Under Her Skin

by Adriana Anders

  “Joey’s got connections, huh?”

  “You have no idea.”

  After a brief hesitation, Ivan kissed her again, this time on the tip of her shoulder. She turned to watch his lips against her shame.

  Not my shame, my life. My experience. Me. The affirmation was overwhelming, almost painful in its clarity: she owned these lines. Every one of them. She’d suffered for them, would suffer even more. They were hers, just as surely as anything she’d ever done or achieved, only these were greater because she’d survived. Like badges of courage, unfamiliar but without the slightest doubt hers. She’d earned them, after all.

  Her next breath was clean, easy, the fear gone like a filter taken off, and she could see herself.

  Above her, Ivan continued his sweet perusal, slow and thorough, and like a tourist in her own life, Uma followed along. He traced the circles around her nipples, then leaned down for the bees’ nest of scribbles on her belly, back up and over to the B in BITCH—the one he’d spelled right. It took a while for Ivan to take the scenic route back to her face, and when he did, there was a change in him too, a smile on his mouth if not in his eyes.

  She felt the air he forced into his lungs before he said, “The tats’re kinda badass.”

  A joke. He was doing his best to adjust, and he was joking.

  Her heart twisted up inside, so hard it hurt.

  At her look, he met her gaze and said, “What?” It was a challenge, a show of admiration. “You think I’m kiddin’? You are a badass.”

  With a huff, she looked away, a little embarrassed at the attention or the compliment, and sore from too much emotion.

  For several beats, they shared something. Trust, maybe. Understanding. Whatever it was, it hurt. He leaned in, pressed his forehead to hers, and whispered, “I got you, Uma.”

  She closed her eyes, swallowed back tears, and nodded, a tiny movement he had to be touching her to have felt.

  The mood changed. He broke it again, just like that.

  Pasting a grin on his face, he bent to lick a path from beneath her ear to her shoulder and palmed a breast. “The tats,” he said between swipes of his tongue, “are badass.”

  She liked that he wasn’t handling her with care right now, how he knew when to move on. And God, she liked how he weighed her in his hand—not too gently—before his fingers moved inexorably to her nipples and pinched. Only a light pressure, but enough to send a jolt through her.

  “You…are…such…a guy,” she managed through a series of gasps. Because, damn it, she didn’t want to be coddled—she wanted the unreserved hunger that shone in his eyes. Maybe just a little of the mean and savage man she’d mistaken him for once upon a time.

  “You’re fucking beautiful, Uma.” She still didn’t entirely believe him, but the words felt good anyway. “And this”—his hand skimmed her arm—“this is just history. It’s who you are. Like this.” He touched the scar on his face. She reached up too, and their fingers met where the angry red mark emerged from his hairline.

  “How’d you get that?”

  He hesitated. When his voice came out, it was tighter, less liquid. “Fight I mentioned.”

  “What happened?”

  “My sister’s ex and me got into it.”

  “Why?”

  “Kind of a bad story. You really wanna know this?”

  “You think I can’t take it?”

  His eyes slid to hers. “Oh, you can take it. I’m worried about me.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she said, maybe a little hurt.

  “I don’t want to,” he said defensively, “but I have to.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I do. After everything you shared with me.” He let a hand settle on her belly—where several jagged lines came together in an illegible scrawl. “Besides, it’s kind of who I am, you know? Why I’m here.”

  “Oh.”

  Propped up on his side, head in his hand, he started. “Frank—that’s Gabe’s dad—beat Jessie up. Bad. So, when you told me about Joey, I thought that’s what you meant.”

  “Oh, he hit me that night. But he also—” A flash of memory. Struggling, Joey holding her down, the fear that she’d never leave that room—not alive, at least. “Well, this happened.”

  “Yeah.”

  He leaned in and kissed her shoulder, that place where a crude heart had been etched and then crossed out in the space of a few short hours. Bile rose up as she remembered the pain of that heart, the pain of the lines over it even worse. She pushed the memory back.

  Another kiss followed the first, this time on Joey’s name, penned in block letters, skittering off on the Y when she’d bucked, hard. He’d run out of black ink halfway through that one. It had finally felt like the end—a reprieve—but he’d only disappeared for a minute before returning with more colors. The sight of all those bottles, brimming with ink, had about done Uma in. That was when she’d decided to let herself die.

  She closed her eyes hard on the memory, shoving out the stench of ink and blood.

  Ivan grasped her right hand and ran it across his abdomen to a white scar on his side. “Got this one in a car accident. I was such a fuckin’ young asshole. Almost lost a kidney. This was before the fight. I’d just gotten out of high school.”

  “How old were you when the fight happened?”

  “Twenty-two. But Frank was older than us. Son of a bitch got my sister knocked up while she was still in high school.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Yep. Then he beat her senseless, and I fuckin’ lost it. Lost it all, I guess. My job, my place. My girlfriend. Fiancée, actually,” he said with an exaggerated French accent.

  “Oh.” She shivered, prompting Ivan to yank the quilt up, wrapping them in it. Once they’d settled, she went on, hesitant to ask. “What happened with her?”

  “Turned out she wasn’t interested in bein’ married to a felon. She left me before I was even convicted. Actually, she didn’t officially break up with me. Just started sleepin’ with everyone else, claimed I’d hurt her. That was kind of a sign.”

  “That doesn’t sound very loyal.”

  “Nope. Loyal, she was not. Asked her to sell her engagement ring to help Jessie. Told her I’d get her another bigger, better one later, but she refused. Not even to buy food for a nursing mother.”

  “Whoa.” Uma jerked back. “Jessie was nursing when he beat her up?”

  Ivan’s chest rose and fell a few times before he answered, voice strained. “Yeah. Did it in front of Gabe.”

  “His own kid?” He gave a brief nod before Uma grabbed his hand in solidarity. “Where is he now?”

  “Lives a few miles over, in the valley.”

  “You ever see him?”

  “Nah. He knows better than to come around here.”

  “What about Gabe?”

  “Doesn’t know his dad.” Ivan’s voice sounded full of challenge. “He’s got me.”

  “He’s a lucky boy.”

  “Remains to be seen.”

  “No.” She tightened her fingers around his. “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

  “Yeah? Anyone?”

  “Anyone.” Now she’d gone and done it. Somehow, without saying the words, she’d let him know how she felt about him. Switching gears quickly, she said, “So, tell me about the fight.”

  “Fight was pretty one-sided. I had a lot of practice, since I spent my first twenty-one years fightin’ everyone who looked at me wrong. Been makin’ up for it ever since.”

  “Problem teenager?”

  “You could say that. Pissed off at everything. Thought the whole world had fucked me over. So, when I had an actual reason to hurt somebody…man, I kicked the shit out of him. I mean, I hurt him real bad.”

  “Do you regret it?”
<
br />   “Hurting him? No. I’d have killed him if the cops hadn’t shown up. Steve was the first guy on the scene. Guy who owns the martial arts school. He was already sheriff back then.”

  “He owns it?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

  “No. I thought he was just a police officer.”

  “Well, sheriff.”

  “So, Steve showed up and—”

  “He took me down.” She could hear the admiration in his voice. “Did some crazy, wrestling-type moves on me before I could kill Frank. Good thing too. Otherwise, Jessie would have been completely alone, and Gabe would have had a dead dad and an uncle still in prison.”

  “And now you’re friends with Steve.”

  “Yeah. Funny how these things happen.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

  He took advantage of her position to kiss the top of her back, right below her neck. That was the first one, there. The tattoo she’d chosen. Idiot, she thought, a little less angry with her old self.

  “This one’s different.”

  “Yeah. We got them done together. By a guy named Zap.”

  “Ooh. Never trust guys whose names come straight from comic books.”

  She chuckled and brought her hand back to his body, to another scar. This one invisible under the hair on his belly but clearly textured beneath her fingers. He shivered under her touch and tightened his arm around her.

  “Appendix,” he said, voice a little breathier than before. “Probably the only one I got that’s not my own damn fault.”

  Continuing her exploration over one sharp hip bone and down, she let her fingers trail a hot path, enjoying the feel of soft, resilient skin that had seen so much, the muscles tensing as she went. “Oh, what’s this one?”

  “That?” His eyes, slightly glazed, took their time moving to an irregular spot above his knee, and rather than wait for his explanation, she shifted, stroking up and down, up and down. “No idea.” Another stroke up brought her hand to graze his half-hard cock, and she left it there, tantalizingly close. “Honestly, baby, not sure I could tell you my name right now.”

  “No?” She smiled, sultry and powerful as she watched his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. Their eyes met for a second before traveling down, together, to where she touched him. With a shaky breath in, she said, “Thank you, Ivan.”

  “For what?” he mumbled.

  “Being here. Taking it in so easily. Still being…attracted to me?”

  “You kiddin’?” He smiled and caressed her with his eyes, then with his words. “Told you you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

  She said, “I want to make you feel good,” and let her finger stroke him, a slow discovery in that same up-and-down cadence.

  Another swallow. “Yeah?” He cleared his throat, and their eyes stayed fixed on her hand—so pale on his thick, dark cock. “I’d like that.”

  Slowly, she lifted up and over him, admiring this body so alive and well lived-in, and planted her knees to lean down and kiss his belly before moving her mouth to his erection. He groaned when she kissed it gently, just the tip. The feel of it against her lips put her in charge again.

  The tide shifted, with her taking control as he gave it. She rather liked that idea—a finite amount of power to be shared in infinite configurations—like a drop of mercury, separating and reshaping over and over again.

  “Move back,” Uma ordered.

  The view from where she kneeled was amazing. Layered over his physical perfection were the scars, each with its own story. A mere mortal in the body of a god. She’d call this photo something like The Beast Awaits, or Anticipation, or maybe Want. She’d probably need to take a dozen shots to capture it fully—a hundred. The physical aspect of him leaning back on his hands, arms straight, abs pushed into stark relief by the position, along with the warring emotions on his face: the desire, the raw want, with something darker underneath.

  Her eyes flicked to where she’d left the camera two nights before. How could she have forgotten all about it lying there?

  Should she? No. Enjoy the moment. This is too good, too real to filter.

  She took the mental picture and stored it away for another time before leaning in and giving him what he wanted.

  She marveled again at how good he smelled up close—like soap and smoke and metal.

  “Did you take a shower?”

  “Of a sort.” He chuckled, tilting his hips up so the head of his erection bumped her mouth.

  She licked him. His taste was ambrosia—not the immediate satisfaction of a chocolate bar, but the subtler flavor of good, strong chemistry. It confirmed everything she’d ever heard about genetics and attraction. This was right; it was meant to be.

  He let out a noise that would have been a whimper from a lesser man. Her mouth closed over his cock and pulled him deep.

  They groaned in unison, a lascivious song of pleasure born deep in their bellies. Pleasuring him was heady, elemental. The only thing more satisfying would have been to sink herself onto him. She pulled and sucked and grazed with her teeth, tearing up and gagging when she accidentally took him in too far, but not minding for once. God, he was huge. Stiff and dark.

  She lifted up and glanced at his face. Ivan was flushed and sleepy looking, but his eyes shone hungry and bright beneath heavy lids.

  “It’s so good, baby,” he whispered. The approval was soothing, so wonderful that she continued to watch him as she moved to lick, teasing his head until he looked crazy. With another groan, he sank back onto one elbow and set a hand gently on her head. It was like a question.

  “Suck me again. Please.”

  She thought about teasing him for a bit longer but wasn’t quite sure how. I’ll have to work on my femme fatale routine.

  Instead, she did as he asked, letting him fill her mouth, then nudge her throat. Uma had never done this before, taken someone in that far of her own volition. But with Ivan, she wanted it. She wanted him to fill every crack, every tiny little crevice Joey had created. She relaxed, and he sank in another centimeter. Up and down, but this time with suction, the next just tongue, another time with teeth. She learned him, played him like an instrument.

  Who knew giving a blow job could be so enjoyable? It was amazing, unbelievable, a treat. She was lost in it. The in and out, the taste, the smell, and those fucking sounds he made. Uma owned his pleasure.

  Without thought, she reached down and gently weighed his balls. She heard the moment he changed. Harsh breaths peppered with groans were forced from his throat, and the hand on her head finally grasped her hair, giving her the rhythm he needed. One pull, two, faster than she would have done it on her own, three, and he tugged her up.

  “Stop, stop, you gotta stop.”

  “No.” She went back for more.

  “I wanna fuck you again, Uma. I wanna look at your face when you come. Please. Please.”

  What was it about the sound of Ivan begging? Who needed water or food or even air? God, she could live off that sound.

  With a seesawing motion, she leaned back, pulling him with her until he was on top. He hovered over her, taking her in, memorizing her.

  Why would he do that? Why would he want to? She nearly pushed him away or covered his eyes, but instead ignored the niggling doubt and accepted the perusal. Slowly, so slowly, he leaned into her and rubbed his chest against hers, nipple to nipple, and the crisp rasp of hair to skin, the rough brush of his thighs against hers. She shivered and pulled in a shaky breath.

  “You want me to fuck you again?” he asked. She nodded. “Let me hear you say it.”

  “I want this.”

  “I like it when you tell me what you want.”

  “I already told you.”

  “Say it again. Use that bossy voice.”

  “You’ve got to fuck me, Ivan.” He staye
d there, watching her, so she grasped his ass and pulled him. “I want to feel you inside me again.”

  Rather than answer, he looked down between them to where their bodies nearly met. Slowly, painfully slowly, he dipped his hips until his cock settled against her. Another maddening pause before he dragged through all the wetness that had gathered there. She felt more than heard his gasp.

  “So wet. Guess I’m doin’ somethin’ right, huh?” He chuckled, and she joined him.

  She loved this: laughing during sex, like maybe it didn’t have to be deadly serious all the time. His ass clenched beneath her hands, and his cock slipped down, glancing her clit with an electric twinge before coming back up again. Down, up. The gliding rhythm was perfect, almost stimulating enough to make her come.

  “Put it in me.”

  “Can’t.”

  She stilled. Clearly she wasn’t bossy enough. “Now, Ivan.”

  “You got a condom?”

  Oh. A tiny dose of reality seeped in. “Oh. Right. I completely forgot.”

  He smiled at that and held up a hand, a condom tucked between his fingers. “Some of us like to plan ahead.”

  Her heartbeat kicked back up a notch, and her pelvis lifted unconsciously toward him.

  He skimmed his hand down her body to cup her between the legs. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay there. Don’t move. Don’t do anything. Let me take care of you.” That didn’t sound bad—quite good, in fact—except what if… “But if you want me to stop, it’s like last night. Just say so, okay? And we’re done.”

  She nodded. No longer surprised that he understood her so well.

  As he pulled it on, the smell of latex, always unpleasant in her mind, floated on the air, mingled with the musky smell of their bodies, and took on a whole new dimension beside her newfound acceptance. The blankets shifted, rustling, and Ivan was back, warm skin pressed to her.

  “Hold on a sec.” Ivan clasped Uma’s jaw firmly and swept his eyes down her body, skimming her skin before kissing her, long and slow and deep.