Tears of Ink (Tears of ... Book 1)

by Anna Bloom

  It’s late and dark outside. I don’t know how late, but the yellow street lamps are lighting the car park. “Hey, Faith” the man calls, and I whirl around.

  Just close your eyes and do it, Faith, then you can get rid of him.

  I’ve been telling myself this for a long time. No one can control me. I choose how and when.

  What I haven’t realised until this very moment, is that over the last few days my mind has been so full of Elijah I haven’t thought of anything else. No bad memories. No cravings to help me forget.

  The realisation floors me.

  But he doesn’t want me…

  Lost and frighteningly alone, I contemplate the man in front of me. “Sorry, I’ve got to get going.” I begin to back away.

  “Come now, Faith, you’ve been making eyes at me all night, I know you’re keen.”

  Am I keen? God, I’m so fucking confused, I don’t know what I’m doing.

  I shake my head, but my hand reaches for the guy’s shirt. What my hand is doing, I don’t know. I’m torn. Confused.

  A flicker to the right makes me turn a searching gaze.

  Elijah.

  Sat on the table top of one of the pub’s picnic benches, he’s watching me from under hooded lids. My legs shake a little, my knees wobbling as I lurch a step towards him. “What are you doing here?” I don’t give the random from the bar a second look and assume he walks away as my attention is pulled to the place it should be.

  “I missed you.”

  His words unravel every single talking to I’ve spent the day giving myself. They floor me.

  “Are you busy?” There’s an element of scorn to his tone and my stomach twists. I have nothing to be guilty about, we are nothing to one another, he’s made that clear, but a nibble of unrest bites me inside.

  The way he fills my head, his scent, his presence, is all encompassing.

  It doesn’t erase the disappointment I’ve felt all day. I step another foot closer. And then another. My heart pounds in my chest, my tongue dry and tingling.

  “I’m not busy.”

  He knows, though. I can sense it. He knows what I was thinking of doing with that stranger, but he will never understand why.

  It’s my sting, my burn, my protection.

  He tugs me closer, his fingers weaving into the knit of my sweater. “What are you doing, Faith?” His question is a low murmur.

  My insides coil and tighten, that age old need to run edging me to make a dash for it.

  “Nothing,” I mumble, but a wave of emotion floods me from the inside out.

  “Is this because I was busy this morning and couldn’t chat?”

  “No.” I stare at my sandals.

  “Faith?” He tilts my chin, so I look at him.

  “No. It’s not that.”

  “What then?” A hardened edge creeps into his words. “Because as far as I can tell, you stink of vodka and were leaving the local with a guy, who honestly doesn’t look like he’s washed in a couple of days.”

  I scrunch my face with repulsion, anger coursing through me. My hands smack against his chest, pushing him backwards. “You don’t get to judge me, Elijah.”

  “You’re kind of giving me good reasons to do just that.”

  “Don’t you dare judge me, you bloody bastard. We can’t all be emotionally cut off like you.”

  He laughs, and it downright infuriates me. My face floods with heat. “Emotionally cut off? Are you referring to our telephone conversation? Because I was surrounded by my partners after coming out of a crucial five-hour meeting where we bartered concessions with the opposition.”

  He has me there. I didn’t think for one moment maybe he wasn’t in a position to speak. I just assumed he was giving me the brush off; that his hot and cold routine was winning out on the side of freezing cold.

  “Well, what about the other night? You were all over me like a fucking rash, and then last night it was like we were fifteen and scared to go under the covers.”

  He grins, and my fist tightens ready to punch his smug face. “You want me,” he taunts. One hand snakes out and grabs the waistband of my jeans, tugging me closer, hooking on the belt loop. “Sunshine, I’m just waiting for you to give me the go ahead. You know my stipulation.”

  His lips skim my throat, scorching a pathway of fire as he reaches my ear and gives a gentle nip with his teeth. “Just waiting for your say.”

  My skin heats and cools all at the same time. My legs tremble as I try to get a grip on the situation, try to gain some control back. I can’t, it’s all gone, lost in his touch.

  This is Elijah at his most perplexing: hot, determined, and driven. It speaks to a deep, dark part of myself that I’ve never given the chance to come to light.

  He pulls me closer between his legs, clamping his thighs around my hips, tugging me forward until I’m losing balance and falling into his chest and lap. Through the dark material of his jeans his erection rubs against my pelvis, and it does nothing to fight through the static buzzing in my head.

  Give in, Faith.

  I shake my head and he chuckles. “Do you need a conversation with yourself? Should I step away and give you some space?”

  My eyes screw shut so I can’t see his smile, the dancing light in his eyes, his lips I want to kiss so badly.

  “I don’t let people in.” I open my eyes and stare at him openly. My palms stretch across his T-shirt, hard and soft all at the same time.

  “And I don’t get to be with anyone I want. Maybe somehow this is perfect right now, just for us.”

  That’s it. It’s all he has to say. My defences crumble.

  “Nothing more than what’s in the moment. You can’t fix me, Elijah.”

  “And you can’t be my girlfriend.”

  “I won’t want to be.” I’m convinced of this. I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend. I’m not made of the right stuff.

  His lips meet my mouth; brushing, caressing, drifting in a heavenly touch. “Tell me you’re a rule breaker,” he whispers, “please.”

  I still can’t say it. Still can’t let go, even though the words are screaming inside my head. “Why are you here? You said you weren’t coming back for days.”

  The blues rest on my face in the dark; reading, absorbing. I want to hide from them, but then I also want to stand proud—this is me in my most fucked-up way and he’s still not running away from me screaming.

  “I wanted to say hi.”

  “You drove all the way from London to say hi?”

  I kiss him. Stretching onto my tiptoes, I slide my hands around his neck, fixing my mouth to his. Hot and eager, he binds me into his arms. “I’m a rule breaker,” I whisper the words into his mouth. In my stomach butterflies take to flight, and across my skin every story I’ve ever inked is slowly washed away in need and hope.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  We walk largely in silence to the pink walled outhouse. Anticipation dries my tongue. My fingers are warm in his grasp as our hands swing between us.

  Every so often he casts a searching gaze in my direction and grins.

  “What?” I ask eventually.

  “Nothing.”

  “No, come on. Something is funny.”

  “I’m thinking about Gerard Steers.”

  The warm blood rushing through my veins cools a little. “Why?”

  He shakes his head, but his grin grows, and damn does it look mighty fine. “Just schoolboy stuff, don’t worry.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Are you still a schoolboy, Elijah?”

  We are at the door to my room. My heart is pounding, my knees knocking. It’s as though this moment is everything all at once. It’s nothing, not really, but my head and heart are telling me otherwise—I wish they’d shut up.

  His fingers trail along my collarbone, dancing a light as feather touch as they skim up my throat and slide around the back of my neck, his thumb running along my jaw.

  Blues sweep across my face. “I’ve wanted you since the first
moment I saw you in The Ritz.”

  My stomach flips with his words and my legs turn to jelly.

  My gaze sweeps up through my lashes, my mouth parting as I breathe in the warm summer air and the hint of his soap. It’s a heady concoction which makes my head spin.

  When his lips graze mine, it’s all encompassing. A brazen fire lights in the pit of my stomach, a needy ache I know won’t be quenched, and I’m not even going to try, I’m not going to fight it. I kiss him back, breathing it, living it, giving it everything I have. My fingers slide to their new favourite place, playing with the short hair at the back of his neck. His hands drop from my neck, skimming down my ribcage, anchoring onto the ridge of my hips.

  Our tongues tangle, probing and searching; at first gentle and soft, then harder and faster, until our breaths come in shortened gasps. I don’t want to breathe if it means ending the kiss. He opens the door, never breaking contact, guiding me in with eager hands, firm and strong.

  I’m splintering into hundreds of pieces, all of them desperate for him at the same time. I want my clothes off and his skin on mine. Him warm and strong, burrowing in the darkest places of me. I grab at his shirt, pulling at it, uncaring of the expensive tailoring, catching the buttons and forcing them with unsteady fingers through the holes. He helps, his fingers calmer as he pops them one by one, his lips still on my mouth as he shucks the shirt off his shoulders and it pools by our feet. My hands slide along his hard chest; his smooth, tanned skin gleaming in the dark shadows of the room. He’s perfect, toned and lithe, all my favourite things. I kiss the skin I find, trailing my lips across his chest, my hands running down the flat of his stomach to the buckle of his belt. The few moments we’ve had together he’s always focused all the attention on me. Not anymore. Not now I’ve chosen. I flick my tongue against his nipple, and it buds against my lips as he shivers slightly and groans. I suck, teasing it between my teeth, before I skim my lips to the other side and do the same. His hands hold me tighter, his palms burning through my jeans, gripping my hips.

  “Fuck, Faith.”

  I grin and continue exploring with my mouth and hands. Dropping to my knees, I unbuckle his belt, my fingers working better as I slip the leather through its loop and unhook his suit trousers, tugging them down until they are at his ankles. He kicks off his shoes and manages to hook his toes into his socks, pulling them off with undeniable skill. When he’s just in his boxers, I straighten, admiring the sight of him, unable to pull my gaze away from the bulge through the black material of his pants. I rub my palm along his length, and his mouth greedily searches for mine, pulling me tight until we are meshed together.

  “You’re wearing far too many clothes,” he almost growls into my mouth. In a startling move, he sweeps me up, placing me against his chest as he paces for the bed and throws me onto the mattress. His hands are quick, certain and sure as they tug at my jeans, peeling them away from my legs. His hands yank my top off with little ceremony until I’m just in my matching lace underwear. “You are so incredibly beautiful.”

  I blush and lay back, my whole body burning for him. He lowers towards me, his lips everywhere. His hands are along my sides, then cupping my breasts, and pulling my hair—so many places. I’m falling from one moment to the next like I’m jumping stars. “I need you.” Between my legs, a molten river of fire scorches for his touch.

  “I want to taste you.” He dips his head to travel down my body, but I catch him back up, pulling his mouth to mine.

  “Not now.”

  His eyes meet mine, his hand dipping between us, searching out the places under my drenched knickers. One finger slips swiftly inside, then another, and I arch up to meet his touch. It’s not enough though; I need it deeper, fuller, harder.

  I grab at his boxers and catch my toes into the waistband, pushing them down while he smirks against my mouth, his lips curving slowly. He turns me, rolling me under his thighs, until I’m face down on the mattress. His fingers trail across the ink on my skin, skimming between the crease in my ass. When he unhooks my bra and slides my knickers down, I’m almost floating above the bed. His fingers never stop trailing, touching, caressing. I spread my legs a little, so they can slip back where I want them the most. It’s a guttural groan I let out into the soft pillow as both his fingers slip beneath my clit and enter me, massaging the sensitive spot deep inside.

  I’m going to come. It builds and builds until I’m clawing the sheets and he flips me over, pushing my legs wide apart, his eyes sweeping along me. When he lowers his boxers and his erection springs free, I stifle a small cry. I’ve never wanted anything more, never needed anything as much as I want him right now.

  He bends over the side of the bed, one hand searching the pockets of his trousers for his wallet; the other hand teasing and torturing me with delicate strokes. He slips a condom from his wallet and tears the packet open with his teeth. Rolling it on, he positions himself at my entrance and I’m almost bucking off the bed trying to get him inside. His eyes hold mine, never wavering as he slowly pushes in. I sigh a breath as he inches further, deeper and deeper until he’s taken me to the hilt. Then he leans down, his lips finding my mouth, our foreheads pressed together as he slowly rotates his hips. It’s just the smallest of movements, rolling deep, pressing me to the absolute max. I groan as the friction of our bodies alongside one another rubs my clit. Within me he’s stroking the sensitive spot that makes my toes point and stretch.

  And then, just when I can’t guess how this can be anymore wonderful than being filled to the brim with this deep and strong sensation, he slides in and out. With every drive of his hips, he drills deeper and deeper until our bodies are slinging together, my nails are dragging along his back as an anchor and my hips are lifting from the bed.

  Harder and faster he pounds, and I arch myself to meet him, my lips trailing wild kisses across any bit of his skin I can touch. Then, just as I’m cresting a dark tormenting wave of an orgasm, building from my toes and travelling along my legs to where I’m going to explode, he fills me deep again, stopping and waiting. His breath hangs between us as he kisses me deep, his tongue hard and fast. My hips buck against his, willing him to carry on, but he doesn’t, and I’m left whimpering on the edge of a dark wilderness. Pushing further and further, I think he’s going to split me in two. He moves so slowly, I sob out his name.

  “Eli.”

  His eyes meet mine, his fingers brushing the damp hair from my face. “Scream my name.”

  And then he’s off again, and the orgasm tantalisingly close, held at bay, frozen in the moment, erupts and carries me off and I scream for him. Shouting his name and searing it into my soul forever more.

  “Eli. Eli. Eli.”

  He follows, driving hard as he grips my hair, and his hips buck with one final tearing deep thrust.

  He collapses across me. My skin is damp. His hair is wet as he kisses along my shoulder, and I’m shuddering and breathing shocked little gasps of air.

  I don’t want him to ever pull out. I want him to stay there forever, for our sweat to always be mingled, for his body to always be pressed against mine. His lips find mine, soft and gentle, and he leans onto his elbows. His face is frank and open, nothing but beautiful calm. He gives me a slow smile and a strange squeeze presses inside my chest. “Stay there forever,” I murmur.

  “But you love my spooning.” His face lights with mischief and, fuck, it’s adorable. This guy is beyond dangerous to be around. Another squeeze tightens my chest and I’m not sure if I’m having a heart attack.

  “I do, but I love you more there.” I squeeze around him tight.

  His gaze holds steady and a moment of silence beats between us. “So, when do you run? When does the rule breaking commence?”

  “When can you go again?”

  He looks deep in thought, and I giggle. “Give me fifteen.”

  “Rule breaking commences in fifteen.”

  He laughs and rolls me over, somehow staying inside me until I’m straddled
on top. His eyes skim my skin. Naked and exposed, I allow him to search my patterns, my tales. His thumb runs along the blank space above my heart. “What’s this waiting for?”

  I shrug. “I’ve never known.”

  With a laugh, I shift and allow him to slip out. It’s a tragedy, but Elijah is turning me into a rule breaker and I don’t want to wait. I pull off the condom, dropping it on the floor and making a mental note to pick it up as soon as I can. Then I shimmy down his body.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fifteen minutes is too long.”

  I hook him up with my fingers and slide my tongue along the length of him. He is soft under my touch, but an instant stirring makes me know I won’t have to wait that long. I slip him into my mouth and give two long sucks and, like magic, he firms and hardens. “It’s magic.” He laughs, and I shake my head focusing on the task in hand.

  “So, no spooning then?”

  I suck him into my mouth, taking him as deep as I can. All talk of spooning is forgotten about.

  I’m exhausted and aching, lying across his chest. The rule is broken, but I know it’s going to take more than one night to see it through properly. Elijah is dozing, his arm thrown around me, his breathing regular and comforting.

  What am I doing?

  I don’t even care. This is dangerous and unknown, but I don’t care. I can’t even protect myself from it.

  “What are you thinking about?” A light pressure touches my head and that squeeze tightens my chest again.

  “Rules.”

  “Mm.” He snuggles me tighter, his strong arm pulling me in.

  “Eli.” Changing his name comes easy now. “Will you show me more of your paintings?”

  “Mm.” His fingers trail along my naked spine. “At the weekend.”

  I smile in the dark and settle down.

  He surprises me when he moves and places a tender kiss along the back of my neck. “Don’t be mad when I’m not here in the morning.”

  “I won’t.”

  I know he has to go to work. I know he has responsibilities, things that I can’t even understand. I’ll miss him, though. And that fact alone scares the hell out of me.