back to the private rooms, Ray doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Slim ink the butterfly too?” He leans forward and lightly touches the butterfly on my shoulder. I yank the razor away in case he becomes my first ever casualty.
“Yeah, isn’t it beautiful? I have one on the other shoulder too. Slim’s a real master. When he was finished with the roses and thorns, I felt like something was missing. I wanted hope and freedom. And yellow, because it’s my favorite color. He came up with the butterflies.”
“Would have thought black was your favorite color.” He gestures to my clothes. “You always wear black.”
“Yellow is my secret favorite color.” I give him a half smile. “Not many people know.”
Ray gives a grunt of satisfaction, and I feel a little tingle at the thought that I’ve pleased him. He traces the outline of the little butterfly and pleasure ripples through my body.
“Looks just like a butterfly I caught when I was a kid. I watched it for hours. Learned a hard lesson that day. I wanted to touch it and I was too rough. Must’ve broken its wing. When I let it go, it couldn’t fly.”
“You can touch me. I won’t break.”
His jaw tightens, and I curse myself for being so flippant about what was probably an upsetting moment in his childhood. What the hell is wrong with me? He shares an actual piece of personal information and I show no sympathy at all. Not only that, but now I’m begging for his attention.
After a few more strokes with the blade, I wash him off, then spritz him with disinfectant. In my zeal, I spray not only the area to be inked, but the rest of his torso as well. Damn klutz side strikes again. “Sorry. Forgot to reduce the nozzle.” Grabbing a sterile cloth, I dry his chest then work my way over his rippled abdomen. His muscles quiver beneath my touch as I pat along the soft, dusky trail of hair, following it down to his belt. Imagining where it might go.
He tenses when I near his buckle and gives a strangled grunt. “S’good.”
My gaze drifts below his belt, to the bulge in his jeans. He is fully erect, his shaft straining against his fly. A naughty thrill of excitement shoots through my veins. He’s aroused because of me.
“Um…do you want to take a break before I apply the stencil?”
He shakes his head, then leans forward and sweeps his hand through my hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers. A sigh escapes my lips as delicious sensations sweep through my body. I am on fire. And although I’ve been with men before, I’ve never been immobilized by a single touch.
“So soft.” He runs his hand over my hair again, this time trailing his fingers along my shoulder. His thumb glides over my throat and he curls his hand around my neck. “So fucking delicate.”
I am burning. Consumed by fire. A burst of need drives a whimper up my throat, and I choke it back as his thumb circles the sensitive hollow at the base of my neck. Firm. Unyielding. Dominant. With one squeeze, he could break me. The way I was broken before. The way he broke the butterfly. And yet nothing could tear me away from this moment.
“Sia.” He says my name softly, drawing out the last syllable in a gravelly murmur, almost like a prayer.
My brain fuzzes with lust, and I surrender to the thrill of his touch, the pounding of my pulse in my veins, the desire that has haunted me since I first saw him in the ring. My head falls back, my lips part, and I drown in the depths of an azure sea.
With a low groan, Ray turns sideways in the chair, dropping his legs to the floor. With his hand still cupped around my neck, he pulls me between his legs, the casters on my stool squeaking in gentle protest. I circle my arms around his neck and my breasts rub against his bare chest. The press of his erection against my stomach sends a rush of moisture to my sex.
“Jesus Christ.” His voice drops husky and low. “You’re killing me.”
He leans down and sweeps my hair behind my
“Slim ink the butterfly too?” He leans forward and lightly touches the butterfly on my shoulder. I yank the razor away in case he becomes my first ever casualty.
“Yeah, isn’t it beautiful? I have one on the other shoulder too. Slim’s a real master. When he was finished with the roses and thorns, I felt like something was missing. I wanted hope and freedom. And yellow, because it’s my favorite color. He came up with the butterflies.”
“Would have thought black was your favorite color.” He gestures to my clothes. “You always wear black.”
“Yellow is my secret favorite color.” I give him a half smile. “Not many people know.”
Ray gives a grunt of satisfaction, and I feel a little tingle at the thought that I’ve pleased him. He traces the outline of the little butterfly and pleasure ripples through my body.
“Looks just like a butterfly I caught when I was a kid. I watched it for hours. Learned a hard lesson that day. I wanted to touch it and I was too rough. Must’ve broken its wing. When I let it go, it couldn’t fly.”
“You can touch me. I won’t break.”
His jaw tightens, and I curse myself for being so flippant about what was probably an upsetting moment in his childhood. What the hell is wrong with me? He shares an actual piece of personal information and I show no sympathy at all. Not only that, but now I’m begging for his attention.
After a few more strokes with the blade, I wash him off, then spritz him with disinfectant. In my zeal, I spray not only the area to be inked, but the rest of his torso as well. Damn klutz side strikes again. “Sorry. Forgot to reduce the nozzle.” Grabbing a sterile cloth, I dry his chest then work my way over his rippled abdomen. His muscles quiver beneath my touch as I pat along the soft, dusky trail of hair, following it down to his belt. Imagining where it might go.
He tenses when I near his buckle and gives a strangled grunt. “S’good.”
My gaze drifts below his belt, to the bulge in his jeans. He is fully erect, his shaft straining against his fly. A naughty thrill of excitement shoots through my veins. He’s aroused because of me.
“Um…do you want to take a break before I apply the stencil?”
He shakes his head, then leans forward and sweeps his hand through my hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers. A sigh escapes my lips as delicious sensations sweep through my body. I am on fire. And although I’ve been with men before, I’ve never been immobilized by a single touch.
“So soft.” He runs his hand over my hair again, this time trailing his fingers along my shoulder. His thumb glides over my throat and he curls his hand around my neck. “So fucking delicate.”
I am burning. Consumed by fire. A burst of need drives a whimper up my throat, and I choke it back as his thumb circles the sensitive hollow at the base of my neck. Firm. Unyielding. Dominant. With one squeeze, he could break me. The way I was broken before. The way he broke the butterfly. And yet nothing could tear me away from this moment.
“Sia.” He says my name softly, drawing out the last syllable in a gravelly murmur, almost like a prayer.
My brain fuzzes with lust, and I surrender to the thrill of his touch, the pounding of my pulse in my veins, the desire that has haunted me since I first saw him in the ring. My head falls back, my lips part, and I drown in the depths of an azure sea.
With a low groan, Ray turns sideways in the chair, dropping his legs to the floor. With his hand still cupped around my neck, he pulls me between his legs, the casters on my stool squeaking in gentle protest. I circle my arms around his neck and my breasts rub against his bare chest. The press of his erection against my stomach sends a rush of moisture to my sex.
“Jesus Christ.” His voice drops husky and low. “You’re killing me.”
He leans down and sweeps my hair behind my
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