Serious Ink

by Ranae Rose

  When he returned to her desk, she was sitting on the edge of it, flyer forgotten.

  He let himself touch her again, let his hands rove all over her body, from her hips to her breasts and back again. When he unbuttoned the front of her blouse and dipped his fingers into the cups of her bra, pinching her nipples, she breathed a long, shaky sigh against his neck.

  With the way her desk was positioned, no one passing by the door would see them, even if they glanced that way. So he slid her bra straps over her shoulders, letting her breasts spill over the tops of the cups.

  Her nipples pointed straight at him, stiff and pink, breasts buoyed by the disheveled undergarment. The sight made his mouth water and his dick throb. They’d slept together the night before – literally and figuratively – but he wasn’t satisfied.

  He never was for long. Not with her. Leaning down, he buried his face in the gaping V of her open shirtfront, dragging his tongue over one breast’s tip and watching it harden a little more before he drew it into his mouth.

  She sighed and arched into him, like he’d known she would. Sucking, he pressed a hand to the small of her back as he eased a leg between her knees, testing to see how much give the pencil skirt had.

  Not much. The slim fit that made it so sexy left little room for anything between her legs, let alone a man. He’d just have to stick with his original plan, then.

  His balls drew up close to his body, aching as he fantasized about it for what felt like the millionth time. Still, he took the time to cup her other breast, teasing and tasting its peak. It was an impossible temptation to resist, especially when he knew how she’d react, arching a little further, bowing beneath his hand.

  She didn’t disappoint. She didn’t seem surprised, either, when he slipped a hand beneath the hem of her skirt, caressing the inside of her thigh. There was a little room, and he wanted to touch her, wanted to see if she was ready for what he had in mind. With a little easing of the material – pushing it up over her bent knees – he was able to reach the sweet cleft between her thighs.

  Pulling her panties aside, he brushed her mound, feeling his way over the bump of her clit – she sucked in a hard breath when he touched her there – and to her folds below.

  The lips of her pussy were wet. There was no mistaking it, and as he ran a fingertip between them, teasing, he cupped the breast he’d left bare, teasing the tip with his fingers like he teased the other with his tongue.

  He barely had the end of one finger inside her, but he still felt the way her pussy tightened, muscles seizing up around the little bit of hardness he’d offered her, as if to draw him deeper in.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t penetrate her any further. The fabric of her skirt was in the way and wouldn’t slide any higher without a change in position. Raising his head, he released her nipple, dragging his tongue across the hardened peak one last time as he withdrew his hand from between her legs.

  Her blush had spread to her chest, pinkness creeping below her collarbones. That happened – her skin was so fair that when she was hot and bothered, it showed. And his dick stiffened to painful proportions every time he witnessed the phenomenon, the natural color that was almost as brilliant as the ink decorating her skin.

  She shifted on top of the desk, her hips wiggling, thighs rubbing together. Could she feel the friction against her pussy, where he’d just touched her?

  The thought broke some invisible dam inside him, flooding him with lust and drowning his self-control. Laying his hands on her hips, he lifted her, spinning her as soon as her toes touched the ground. Within seconds, she was facing the desk, ass toward him, the curve of it just barely brushing the hard-on that tented the front of his pants.

  “Lean forward,” he said, doing the same as he gripped the hem of her skirt, hiking it up, slowly revealing the creamy backs of her thighs and eventually – damn, the sight never got old – the two perfectly round halves of her ass.

  Her panties were skimpy – a scrap of lace bisected her cheeks, and would be easy to pull aside. He chose to pull it down instead, shimmying it over her hips, stopping at mid-thigh. With her underwear out of the way and her bent at the waist, her pussy lips peeked out at him, visibly wet.

  His cock throbbed as he hurried to unbutton his belt and pants, yanking down the zipper, nearly hurting himself. It wasn’t until his dick sprang free, head thumping against her ass, that he remembered he couldn’t just thrust inside her.

  He had a condom in his wallet. Thank God. If he’d had to stop at that moment, he probably wouldn’t have survived the disappointment. It would’ve killed him somehow – an internal implosion, spontaneous combustion. He’d suffered shattered dreams in the past, but having to turn away from Zoe bent over her desk with her panties down and her skirt around her waist would’ve been the last straw.

  She wriggled a little, causing her ass to shift against his shaft. Whether she’d done it to entice him or because she was trying to get more comfortable in her heels, he didn’t know, but it was almost enough to make him come. His fingers slipped as he tore open the condom package, and he swore.

  “You all right?” she asked, repositioning her hands against the desktop, bracing herself like she expected him to take her hard.

  “Yeah.” Biting his tongue, he finally pulled the condom free. “Just playing it safe.” They hadn’t talked about anything else yet. He didn’t even know if she took a pill.

  “Okay,” she said, voice slightly shaky as he rolled the latex sleeve to the base of his dick.

  For half a second, he wondered why she sounded so breathless. Had the position grown uncomfortable for her already?

  Then he gazed down at the flesh between her slightly-spread thighs and remembered how wet she was. Hell, she was glistening. She was just as ready for this as he was – had to want it almost as bad, if not as bad. Fuck, the revelation was erotic. Guiding himself with a few fingers wrapped around his sheathed cock, he eased inside her.

  He took the first stroke slow because of her shoes, not wanting to throw her off balance and have her twist an ankle or worse. He went deep though, pressing in until his groin was snug against the roundness of her ass, no space between them, no room for so much as a breath of air. And when she breathed a sharp gasp, he pulled back and eased in again, then again, until he was sure she was steady on her feet.

  Then he did what he’d been aching to do since the first stroke – gripped her by her hips, held her steady and thrust hard.

  She liked it. He knew she did. She’d told him several times before, when they’d been in bed, and once, the shower: “Fuck me harder. Like the first time.” Those words echoed in his mind now, causing him to swell inside her, making him aware that it would be perilously easy to come on the spot, if he let himself.

  He hadn’t told her that the first time they’d fucked, he’d been so crazy with the pleasure of being inside her, so consumed by the sheer bliss of it, that he hadn’t realized he’d been going particularly hard. Everything about her called to him, enticed him, urged him on, especially when he was skin-to-skin with her. He wanted her – wanted to take her, to give himself to her – in a way he’d wanted few things before.

  Maybe nothing before. He wanted to give her everything, and so he rocked his hips with purpose, trying to hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. After a little while, he knew he’d succeeded. She practically clawed furrows in the desk’s surface, her purple nails scraping against the lacquered wood. He would’ve been jealous – he liked feeling them dig into his skin – if the view from his position above and behind hadn’t been so good.

  True, he couldn’t see the front of her body – her breasts and the pink peaks he’d teased to stiffness – but he could watch his cock plunging into her, framed by the heart-shaped double-curve of her ass, and that was a sight sure to stick with him for the rest of his life.

  He faltered when her pussy drew up tight around his shaft, wrenching lightly – fluttering. He knew what that meant, and the satisfaction
caused him to draw a deep breath, pushing extra-deep before drawing back and finding his rhythm again.

  He’d hoped he could make her come like this. With no way to really touch or stimulate her other than with his dick balls-deep inside her, he’d thought it might be a challenge. But she was moaning now – short, breathless sounds that blended together – and he felt the tightening again, her body’s signal that she was close.

  He didn’t change a thing about what he was doing. If this was working, he wasn’t going to stop. Besides, it felt good to him too – so good he was tempted to try for a simultaneous climax. How fucking fantastic would it feel to come inside her while her pussy was milking him like it did when she came?

  But this was his fantasy, and it was even better than he’d imagined. He didn’t want it to end. Not yet. Besides, if he could get her off like this once…

  She breathed his name when she came, abusing the desk with her brightly-painted nails as she arched her back, jutting her ass back hard against his hips.

  That nearly pushed him over the edge despite his resolve to keep going. Summoning every scrap of willpower he possessed, he kept thrusting into her, rocking his hips until her ragged breathing slowed a little and the contractions in her core became erratic, weak.

  Then he took it slow. “You all right against that desk?” He hadn’t forgotten about her heels, the ones that made her legs look so good and thrust her ass up at a pert fuck-me angle.

  “Yes,” she sighed, voice breathy.

  “You sure? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

  “You’re not hurting me.” Her voice came out stronger this time. “I’m fine.”

  Satisfied, he continued to rock slowly in and halfway out of her, savoring the tight embrace of her body. She felt so good – had from the first moment he’d ever thrust inside her, and still did every time he found himself fucking her again. How had he gotten so lucky?

  It was crazy when he thought about it. A couple weeks ago, he’d been taking her on their first date. Now they worked together – at least part of the time – and lived together. It should’ve sounded like way too much, too fast, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

  As it turned out, slow and steady worked, too. He’d figured her body would be more sensitive after the way he’d pushed her to her first climax, and he’d been right. As she neared her second – tensing around him, breathing his name again – he took her in long, deliberate strokes. He wasn’t fast, but he pushed each thrust until he felt her soft, tight flesh yield to his dick. Ultimately, he was rewarded with the sight and sound of her pleasure, the sensation of her pussy shrinking around him again.

  He came soon after that, heat pooling at the base of his spine and rushing through his groin just like his come rushed out of him, tearing a moan from deep in his chest as he gripped her hips hard, riding out the insane, thought-obliterating pleasure.

  When he pulled out, he did that slowly too, reluctant to give up the embrace of her body, even as satisfaction flooded his mind and muscles.

  He used his grip on her hips to steady her as she straightened. Sliding his hands down her thighs, he gripped her delicate panties and eased them back into place, pulling her skirt down over them and smoothing the material as best he could. A few wrinkles remained, and he’d have been a liar if he’d said he didn’t like the sight of them.

  “Good?” he asked when she turned around, finally facing him.

  Her cheeks were still flushed, and a few flyaway strands of her dark hair framed her face at odd, undeniably appealing angles. Reluctantly, he ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing them down, erasing the evidence of what they’d just done.

  “Yes,” she said, readjusting her bra straps and buttoning up her shirt.

  With a pang of sadness, he watched her conceal the pinkness of her nipples, her generous cleavage. Looking was always a pleasure, even if he was – temporarily – satisfied.

  Disposing of the condom in the wastebasket by her desk, he tucked his barely-softening dick back into his pants and did his best to make himself look presentable. Like her, he bore a few wrinkles in his clothing despite his best efforts. “Are you working tonight at Hot Ink?”

  If she wasn’t, maybe they could go out. He wanted to take her somewhere – wanted to do something special with her. Something more than sex, as good as that was.

  “Yeah.” She tucked a strand of freshly-smoothed hair behind her ear. “Until closing.”

  He tried to suppress his disappointment, telling himself not to be greedy. Between work and living together, he saw a hell of a lot of her, for someone he’d known for just a few weeks. He had no right to covet more of her time.

  “Guess I’ll see you when you get home.”

  “Is it time for me to leave here already?” Her eyes widened a little, and she bent, peering at the laptop open on her desk.

  He hadn’t meant it that way – he’d only been consoling himself.

  “It is time for me to leave. Wow. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  He peered at the laptop clock himself, discovering that it really was later than it seemed. Apparently time had a way of flying when he was buried inside her having his mind blown.

  “I’ve gotta go.” She smoothed her hands over her clothing one last time, grabbing her coat off the back of her chair. “I’m going to be late for my visit with my dad.”

  “Right.” She’d mentioned her visits with her father to him several times during the weeks he’d known her. Where her dad lived, he didn’t know. Obviously, Zoe was just as loyal a daughter as she was a sister. Her father never stopped by the apartment to visit her, but then again, maybe Zoe didn’t want him to. Maybe he didn’t even know his daughter was living with him.

  “See you tonight,” he said as she thrust her arms through the sleeves of her coat, frowning.

  “See you then.”

  She grabbed her purse, hurried toward the door and was gone before he knew it.

  Alone in the office, he picked up the flyer and walked toward the copier, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling eating away at him. Why did she always look so stressed when she mentioned her dad? He’d noticed it, particularly of late. Sometimes, when she left for one of her visits, she looked more like she was marching into battle.

  He didn’t know what she was fighting against, but he recognized the stubborn gleam in her eyes – it was the same one that had led her to living with him. He got the feeling that she was sacrificing herself in some way for something, but how and for what, there was no telling. Considering the lengths he knew she’d be willing to go to for her family – like living in a closet – it worried him, even if it was none of his business.

  * * * * *

  It wasn’t cold enough for the rain to turn to snow, just cold enough to make the day completely miserable. Zoe strode inside, hair dripping into her eyes, cursing herself for not having worn a hood or taken an umbrella.

  Schubert skulked beneath the futon, yellow eyes gleaming dully like frosted-over topaz as Zoe hung up her coat on a hook by the door. The little coat rack was one of a few purchases she and Noah had made over the past couple weeks – little things they’d found they needed around the apartment.

  As she swept a lock of damp hair out of her eyes, the dull roar of rushing water told her that Noah was in the shower. She’d just have to wait her turn. Fighting a small smile at the memory of him suggesting that she might be a “shower-hog”, she retreated to her bedroom.

  She didn’t spend much time there, really. At night, she slept in Noah’s bed. Usually they’d start out there for reasons that had nothing to do with sleeping, and then she’d just … stay. She liked that just as much – liked being with him, in general. It wasn’t just the sex.

  Peeling off her dampened black v-neck sweater and jeans, she settled on the edge of her bed.

  No sooner had she drawn her feet up onto the mattress to sit cross-legged than the sound of rushing water stopped. Moments later, the faint squeak of hinges announced th
at Noah had exited the bathroom.

  She rose, picking up a towel she’d draped across her laundry hamper that morning. After squeezing the worst of the wetness from her hair and patting her shoulders dry, she headed for the hall.

  Noah’s bedroom door was halfway open, spilling light out into the hallway. Schubert stalked inside, and after a moment’s hesitation, Zoe followed, bracing herself with a hand on the doorframe and peering inside.

  Noah stood facing the far wall, a towel slung low around his hips. His skin glistened, still wet, as he stood with one hand touching the drywall. Slowly, he raised his hand, maintaining contact with the wall, letting his fingers crawl upwards until his arm was fully extended. With his long, lean muscles stretched, he paused, motionless for several seconds.

  When he dropped his arm, it was only to start all over again.

  “Noah?” Zoe spoke up after watching him perform the baffling ritual a second time.

  He froze with his hand halfway up the wall, the muscles in his back tensing visibly beneath the smattering of water droplets that clung to him. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder, eyes connecting with hers from across the room.

  His gaze was sober, assessing. Maybe a little surprised. She felt nervous in her bra and panties, which was unusual – she’d quickly learned to feel intensely comfortable in her own skin around him, especially when he was undressed, too.

  “I’m home,” she said lamely, because clearly, he hadn’t realized it.

  He nodded. “Didn’t know where you were or when to expect you back. You had this morning off, right?”

  “Mina’s little sister was feeling under the weather at school today and needed to be picked up. I volunteered to cover Mina’s shift at Hot Ink so she could take care of her.”

  He nodded again, his fingertips still touching the drywall.

  “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just wanted to let you know I was here.” Plus, she’d been hoping to sneak a peek at him sans-towel. “If you don’t mind my asking, though … what are you doing?”