Beloved Ink

by Ranae Rose

  He was overwhelmingly appealing, no matter the circumstances. After the hell of the night before, she ached more than ever to be close to him, to extinguish the lingering fear their temporary separation had caused. She’d wanted to go to him after the fight, but they’d been led away from each other – him in handcuffs, and her in pain.

  She’d never forget the way he’d defended her, the way he’d fought for her. It was embarrassing to need to be defended, and even more so to need help with things like getting dressed. But he hadn’t made it any more humiliating than it had to be, and she appreciated that.

  He’d done so much for her, at great expense to himself. How could she ever make it up to him?

  “What do you need me to help you with?” he asked when he set down his empty coffee cup.

  She almost said ‘nothing’, then bit her tongue.

  “Well, I’d like to take a shower. If you could help me out of the brace first, that’d be great.”

  He did more than help her out of the brace. He helped her out of the pajamas he’d put on her the night before, and her cheeks burnt just like they had then.

  Her mind balked at the idea of needing such intimate help. But the heat of embarrassment wasn’t the only warmth that crept across her skin, making her blush.

  His touch felt good, even if it was light and practical. Her nipples were hard, and she wished he was touching her under different circumstances. When she was nude, he stood just a couple feet from her and met her eyes.

  “What about your hair?”

  She reached behind her neck automatically, flipping her braid over her shoulder so the end dangled between her breasts. Before she could do it herself, he pulled the elastic band free.

  She could’ve undone the braid one-handedly, but Ben running his fingers through her hair felt too good to resist. He was careful, and she missed it when it was over and her hair hung loose over her shoulders.

  She studied his expression, searching for any sign of what he was thinking. His jaw was still tense, and there was something off about the look in his eyes.

  It took her a few seconds to realize that the thing missing was the look of desire. Normally, when he looked at her, he looked hungry – no, ravenous. But she couldn’t see that now.

  Was it the ugly bruise on her shoulder that turned him off?

  It was an undeniably vivid reminder of the night before.

  Unable to resist, she touched one of his hands, closing her fingers around his. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine.”

  “I’m just stressed.”

  She nodded and despaired. It hurt to see him look so sad, especially since it was completely justified.

  “Before I grab a shower…” She held her breath for a second, biting down on her inner lip. She felt like she was teetering on a ledge, and part of her feared being rejected again, like she had been in the parking lot. But she had to ask. “Would you like to spend some time together?”

  She let go of his hand and laid hers on his chest. His heartbeat made her fingertips tingle.

  For the first time that day, she felt his gaze on her body – felt it like she’d felt it during their first and only night together.

  Her pussy drew tight with a quick contraction. How was it possible that they’d been through so much and had only slept together once?

  She ached to fix that, to fuck him until she felt like their physical bond matched the ties of trust the night before had forged. Maybe it was a bond of misery, but it was a bond of sacrifice, too – on his part, not hers.

  “No,” he said. “It wouldn’t feel right.”

  Her heart dropped, and she had to bite back a sigh of disappointment. Rejection hurt, but her nipples were still hard and her heart was still beating too fast. Wanting him and not being able to have him hurt almost as much as him not wanting her.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I know that. I still want you.”

  He was silent for a second. “I can’t.”

  Having embarrassed herself enough, she retreated to the bathroom instead of pushing the matter further. Once there, she found herself uncomfortably close to tears.

  Not because her shoulder hurt, but because of the stress she’d inflicted on him. She couldn’t even begin to reconcile the man she’d just left in her bedroom with the man who’d eaten cheesesteaks with her and charmed her at the gym.

  And yet, she still felt the bond that came when you survived something bad with someone else. The night before had been awful, but there was a silver lining: now, she knew she could trust him.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t stop her from feeling as if she were sitting on the seashore, watching him sail further and further out to sea, leaving her behind.

  She was afraid of losing sight of him. Most of all, she was afraid that the shitty things they’d endured weren’t over for him. There was a very real possibility she’d ruined his life.

  That broke her. Tears spilled from her eyes, hot and abundant. She turned on the shower and got in, then tipped her head back beneath the showerhead and let the tears flow away with the water. After a couple minutes of standing that way, she jerked when the bathroom door creaked on its hinges.

  “Ben?”

  Instead of answering, he pulled back the shower curtain.

  She sucked in a breath. He’d taken off his shirt. His cut torso was a perfect display of strength at rest, all chiseled lines and shadows lurking beneath the swells of muscle.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  He remained mute. She was just about to ask again when he stepped into the shower, jeans and all.

  The shower spray hit him, water beading on his skin and running down to soak his jeans. The biomechanical tattoo on his biceps made it look like his skin was peeling back to reveal an engine – an engine awash with rain, now.

  The rest of his ink glistened too, just as wet, and the dark hair in the center of his chest was matted against his skin.

  She stood, stunned, as he pulled the curtain shut.

  She turned her back on the water so she could face him. “Ben?”

  He dropped to his knees, placing his hands on the insides of her thighs before she could blink. When he pushed, a thrill raced through her and she widened her stance, succumbing to the silent promise of his actions.

  His mouth collided with her pussy. She still had no idea what he was thinking, but she had an exquisitely clear idea of what he was doing and she liked it.

  Loved it.

  Pleasure pulsed through her in a way she hadn’t known a man could cause without being inside her. The first contraction was one of shock and ecstasy, and it tore the breath from her lungs. More came, erratic and promising, as he continued.

  He ate her like he was starving, dividing her folds with his tongue and sucking her clit, his lips hotter against her skin than the rushing water. She had to steady herself with a hand against the wall, and even then, she wasn’t completely sure she wouldn’t stumble or fall.

  He kept a firm grip on her. His fingers were like steel bands around her thighs. All she had to do was stay upright until she came…

  It wouldn’t take long.

  * * * * *

  Ben ate Hannah’s pussy as an apology, as a way to show her he still wanted her – bad. As a way to take the edge off the desire he couldn’t indulge. As penance.

  He ate it hard, even though the shower water crept into his mouth and made him feel like he’d drown with her sweet flesh on his tongue. Even though his face was swollen from where he’d been hit, and it hurt just to open his mouth.

  The pain was a welcome distraction. Paired with the intense pleasure of tasting her, it had him in another place, another reality.

  His hair was soaked, and so were his jeans. They clung to him, uncomfortably heavy and hot. The water weight made having a hard-on painful.

  He had one from hell, aching against jeans that didn’t giv
e him enough room, especially when he was kneeling.

  Her thighs shook beneath his hands, and he was ready to catch her if she fell.

  A part of him was ready to fuck her too, but he couldn’t do that. His body was hard and raging with desire, but his mind was divided: half aching for it and half terrified of it.

  That was why he’d left his jeans on: to put a barrier between his body and hers. To make resisting possible even though they were so, so close.

  Fucking her wasn’t an option right now. He couldn’t fuck her because he didn’t want to hurt her. Most of all, he couldn’t fuck her because he didn’t deserve to.

  It was his fault she was hurt, and he couldn’t bring himself to use her battered body for his pleasure.

  Even if she wanted it. There were other ways of giving her what she wanted though – ways like this. This was something he could do. This was something he could give her that would only cause pleasure, no pain.

  Even though she shrieked when she came, he knew it wasn’t because he’d hurt her.

  He waited until the worst of the shaking worked its way out of her legs, then stood. On the way up, his gaze snared on her swollen pussy. He couldn’t hold back a groan.

  With a hand over the soaked front of his jeans, he readjusted his cock as best he could. He’d make a mess getting out of the shower, but he was glad he’d kept them on. No matter what he thought or how much mental agony his stubborn desire for her generated, being naked would’ve made it too easy to fuck her despite it all.

  Too easy to turn her around and guide the head of his dick to her wet cleft while she stood on her tiptoes.

  Too easy to thrust into her until he exploded in a fury of undeserved pleasure. Pleasure that’d only be a few seconds’ reprieve from his guilt.

  He would’ve done it, and so he hadn’t given himself the chance.

  “Where are you going?” she asked as he climbed out of the shower.

  CHAPTER 17

  Hannah stood dumbfounded until the water started to turn cold, then hurried to wash her hair and run a soapy loofah over her body. She was eager to get back to Ben, but she wanted to be clean and fresh for him, too.

  After picking up her razor, she realized she couldn’t shave under either of her arms. She couldn’t lift her right one, and she couldn’t hold the razor in her right hand to shave the left.

  She gave up altogether and set the razor back down, then shut off the water. Her skin might not be perfectly smooth, but Ben certainly hadn’t seemed to care about that a few minutes ago.

  Hell, he hadn’t even cared enough to stop and take off his jeans before stepping into the shower with her. Her head was still spinning. It’d been so passionate, and so … strange.

  A towel waited on the countertop by the sink. She used it to absorb the worst of the dampness from her hair, then held it in front of her body instead of wrapping it.

  Her thoughts raced as she made her way across the hall to her room. What exactly had just happened?

  Ben hadn’t spoken a word, but he’d made her scream with pleasure. And he hadn’t taken any in return.

  Had he wanted to wait until she was out of the shower so they could have sex somewhere more comfortable?

  It made sense – sort of – but he wasn’t waiting for her in her bedroom.

  He wasn’t in the kitchen, either, but his wet jeans were in the sink.

  Her heart pounded. Was he gone? Without his pants? What the hell?

  She found him passed out on the couch. He’d pulled the fleece throw blanket down over himself, but one arm and muscled shoulder were exposed. Judging by what he’d left in the sink, he was naked underneath.

  Completely baffled, she stared for a couple minutes. His eyes were closed and the stress lines across his brow were gone. He looked incredibly young.

  And he was. She hadn’t dated a twenty-five year old since she’d been in her early twenties. Zander had been well into his thirties – well set in his jackass ways and not about to change for anyone, even someone he’d claimed to love.

  Ben was so different. The three year age gap between them suddenly seemed significant, and that multiplied her guilt exponentially. He was so young, and already burdened with problems he hadn’t asked for and couldn’t escape. She couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen to him if he was convicted.

  It didn’t seem like he could bear it, either. Maybe that was why he was sleeping – maybe the stress had exhausted him.

  She returned to the kitchen, eyes stinging again, and grabbed his jeans and boxers. She carried them back to the bathroom. He obviously didn’t realize it, but there was a door that opened to a laundry closet there.

  The dryer would have his clothes ready to wear in half an hour.

  Back in her bedroom, she blinked away bitter tears. Slowly and carefully, she pulled on panties and a pair of shorts. Selecting a shirt she could get into herself was more of a challenge.

  In the end, she chose a stretchy cotton cami. She was able to get it over her head, then pull it down to her hips and work the straps over her arms from there.

  Her nipples poked hard and obvious against the fabric. She wasn’t dressed to leave the apartment, but that was fine.

  The only thing she was missing was the brace, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to go without it for just a little while, especially if she rested. Ben obviously needed rest, and she didn’t want to wake him up. And there was no telling whether it was the physical pleasure or the emotional rollercoaster that had done it to her, but she was exhausted too.

  She lay down on her bed and thought of Ben out on the couch. Eventually, those thoughts transitioned into dreams.

  * * * * *

  Ben woke up to his phone ringing. At first, he didn’t know where he was. Then it all clicked and a sense of alarm took over. How long had he been asleep?

  He’d only meant to wait on the couch for Hannah, so he could help her after her shower. But he’d passed out.

  He wanted to rush to her, but the call was from Dylan, so he took it. By the time it ended, he knew he had an appointment with a criminal defense attorney the next day. One of the best in the area, or so Dylan said.

  He tried to internalize the news as he sat up on the edge of Hannah’s couch. Where was she?

  According to his phone clock, he’d been asleep for a solid hour.

  He wrapped the blanket around his hips like a towel and walked down the hall to her bedroom.

  She was there, asleep on the bed in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Her brace was on top of the dresser.

  Fuck. What was wrong with him?

  He was debating whether or not to wake her up whenever she stirred.

  Her eyes widened the moment they settled on him. “Whoa!”

  “Are you okay?”

  She blinked. “I’m fine – just not used to waking up to see a man at the foot of my bed. Especially a naked one.”

  He glanced down at the blanket. It was pretty ridiculous, but his jeans were soaked.

  “Sorry if I scared you. I fell asleep on your couch, and when I woke up I didn’t know where you were.”

  “You look tired.”

  “I’m not anymore.” It was a lie – the first he’d told her. Most of his energy had been siphoned into stressing out over the clusterfuck he was in the middle of. But he didn’t want her to think he wasn’t up to helping her.

  “Whatever you say. Do you want some more coffee anyway?”

  “Sure. I’ll make it. First, let me help you with the brace.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at the kitchen table together with half-finished mugs of coffee in hand. He was no longer wearing a blanket – she’d surprised him with his dry clothing. He hadn’t realized she had a washer and dryer.

  “You seem like you’re a million miles away.” She ran her foot along the outside of one of his calves. “Is the coffee having any effect?”

  He met her eyes reluctantly. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Do you want
to pick up where we left off then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She smiled, and he flashed back to the shower.

  “I can’t,” he said, suddenly aware of an ache in his balls.

  Her smile turned into a frown. “What changed your mind? You didn’t feel that way an hour and a half ago.”

  “Yeah I did. Things went as far as I was willing to take them.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense to me. Why would you jump into a shower with your clothes on to eat my pussy and stop at that? And don’t tell me you weren’t into it, because you obviously were.”

  “Because I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

  Her frown grew more severe, and lines appeared between her eyes. “The only thing you don’t deserve is the shit you’re in right now. We could do things together that’d distract you – make you feel good – at least for a little while. I hate to see you turn that down. When you came into the shower, I thought…”

  He held her gaze. “I want you. But whenever I look at you, I see that bruise and I remember you’re hurt. I remember that you wouldn’t be if I’d done things differently. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, but I just can’t bring myself to take anything from you.”

  She was silent for a little while.

  “Speaking of bruises,” she eventually said, “your face looks like hell, and I know what you did for me in the shower had to hurt.”

  “It did,” he admitted. “But when things are this shitty inside my head, that’s not a bad thing. Pain is a good distraction, and having my face buried in your pussy… That’s a hell of a distraction too. Doing that for you was the best I’ve felt all day. I wish I could go back in time and do it again.”

  She stared at him.

  He stared back.

  “I don’t like this,” she said after a long time. “I don’t agree with your logic, and I can’t stand to see you depriving yourself because of unjustified guilt. I feel guilty too, you know. But… It’s not like I’m going to coerce you into sex. Just tell me if you change your mind, okay?”