Tattooed On My Soul

by Lisa DeBells

  He lowered his mouth to my chest, pressing kisses between my breasts. Nudging his huge cock in the seam of my underwear, he rubbed it slowly up and down, teasingly. I tilted my hips to feel maximum pleasure. I wanted him to rip my underwear off and fill me with every smooth, blissful inch of him. I craved his hardness in me. Now.

  I was a panting mess while he sucked on one pebbled nipple, then ran his tongue around the soft pink circles like he was making love to them.

  “Please, Mitch.” I teetered on madness. I was also loving that he wanted to draw this out and build me up slowly.

  “You want me?” He asked in that rough gravelly way of his.

  “Yes. Please.” I was begging, but I didn’t care.

  “Tell me you feel it, baby, tell me it’s more, and I’m not going fucking insane.” He kissed my lips and pulled on my bottom one with his teeth. Then he licked the hurt away and fucked my mouth with his tongue driving me further. I wanted to tell him that beyond all doubt that this was more than what I had ever expected, but I wasn’t brave enough to admit it. To me or to him. So I tucked it away for contemplation.

  I moaned in pure pleasure when his hand slipped into my lacy thong and he pressed his palm onto my clit. The pressure was divine and drove me crazy. How could I possibly define my feelings while he was roaming over my body like water running over rocks in a stream? Mitchell was smooth and certainly knew how to please.

  “I want you, please, Mitchell. I want to feel you.” I was panting and grabbed his ass, pulling him into me. He stood up and released his belt, then popped the buttons on his 501s. With each pop I became further undone, anticipating him naked.

  His torso was so fucking amazing that I wanted to lick every inch of it. The inverted V of his abdomen, the tickle of hairs that buzzed it and ran a delicious line down into his underwear. When he thumbed the rest of his clothing off, I couldn’t help being fascinated by his manhood. He owned the most beautiful cock I’d ever fucked, smooth and thick-veined with an amber-colored head that throbbed for release.

  I licked my lips and slowly perused his thick thighs, delighted that he didn’t skip leg day at the gym. They were bulky and well outlined, looking very powerful. The overall muscled, tattooed package was totally brain-fucking me.

  He pulled off my panties and brought them to his nose, inhaling while his eyes looked at me, a salacious grin tipped his lips and I realised my sexual appetite was more twisted because this was the most erotic act I had ever seen. He threw them away, and we were both naked and panting.

  “Breathtaking.” Was the only word he said, and he said it to me in a way that it stripped me bare, filled me up, and smashed into me all over again like a tsunami.

  He crawled up my body murmuring sexy erotic things while kissing my inner thighs with his hot mouth. He plunged his tongue onto my aching clit and I bucked off the bed while he held me steady with both hands on my hips and swirled his tongue on me, teasing me to oblivion. He delved a finger inside me and I instantly clenched onto it as he massaged the tight bundle of nerves that were begging for an orgasm.

  I wanted him inside me when I finally went off the edge, but I didn’t want his fingers and lips to stop what they were doing. The torture was delicious. I looked down to where we met and his eyes were on me. He pulled his lips away.

  “Eden, come for me baby.”

  And it finally washed over me; waves of pleasure, flowing from my core to every point in my body. I rode that wave when Mitchell hurled himself above me, rolled a condom over his length and lined us up.

  He sunk his long, thick delicious cock inside me and I was so full of him. My body wrestled between the sweet pain and the pleasure, as I stretched around him. He became still once fully sated in my core.

  “So fucking tight.” He grunted as his eyes rolled back behind his closing eyelids.

  I was undone, because he was struggling to hold onto control. It was such a turn-on to see him falling apart at my hands and knowing I did this to him.

  He took me slowly, rolling his hips and securing me to him, for the deepest penetration, by angling my ass cheek with his palm. In and out, he drove me. Riding on the peak of that wave and chasing the crash and tumble of another release. “Faster, Mitchell, I need more.”

  “I’m gonna give you what you need, baby.” He hushed me with his lips and swallowed my whimpers.

  “Give me everything, God, I need it, harder. Please.” I was dizzy with lust as he pumped his cock into me faster, delivering every thrust how I needed. As I reached for the sky, a flash of pleasure shot out of every point, my sex milking him, pulling his desire, every last drop. I watched his face change into beast mode, a sheen of sweat glistened across his chest. He thickened further, roaring as he came long and unbridled. He didn’t stop until every last warm drop was released.

  He was spent and collapsed on top of me, satisfied. It took minutes, maybe several, for me to form anything of coherence to say since I was just given the most mind-blowing orgasm of my whole life. My arms wrapped about his waist, holding him to me, because his cock was still hard and simply divine.

  I was yet to discover any physical flaws in Mitchell. I wasn’t so delusional as to think he was perfect, but how was it that he could satisfy me—so far in every way I’d needed him—and yet he was still single? The cautious me was buried deeper inside me than ever before. Why couldn’t I just run on these spontaneous feelings? I was an adult, and yes, I’d been completely fucked over before, but no matter how much of a bad boy Mitchell was I was desperate to believe that he could be better for me than any man who had gone before him.

  Mitchell rested up on his forearms, next to my face. He bit the fleshy part of his bottom lip, green eyes light and flecked with golden brilliance and mischief.

  He rolled off me, disposed of the condom and pulled me with him so that I was perfectly lined up on top of his body. I felt timid. I shouldn’t though, because we were in the aftermath of what we’d just shared. I should have felt less self-conscious.

  He had one arm around my waist and my hands were folded under my chin that was resting on him. Mitchell combed my hair through his fingers methodically, and I wanted to purr like a kitten, to just curl up in his arms and snuggle for days.

  “You look . . . relaxed,” he said.

  “Hmm.” I smiled lazily. “Why ruin this with talking?”

  “I like talking to you, Eden.” He pulled me up his body with both hands until my face hovered above his. “Are you still staying?” His eyes sparkled with affection.

  “Yes, I am. If you still want me. I . . . I can leave, either way.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Did I seriously give him an out?

  “I wouldn’t let you go even if you wanted me to.”

  “Oh, really?” I quirked a perky eyebrow.

  “Uh-huh.” He nipped my lip playfully.

  His smile caused a spark to flash in his green eyes. His dimples indented his cheeks and I just about melted for the tenth time that night. My chest ached with his devilish beauty. He did that buzzy thing, where his lips brushed along my skin, combined with a rumble in the back of his throat, he buzzed along my neck slowly, in that way which made me feel special; licking softly along the same path and up to my ear. Grooming me and scenting me. Like I could be any more his.

  Rolling me over, he pulled me to his side and tucked me in snug with my head on his chest. “Sleep, my beauty, stay with me.” He kissed my temple, and placed little kisses in my hair. He reached to the side table and pressed a remote; music that was soft and relaxing filled the space instantly. The ocean waves and sea breeze had my eyelids closing with fatigue.

  “This is nice music.”

  “Glad you think so, baby. Now sleep and dream of me. OK?”

  “Hmm, I can only hope,” I said.

  “This is how I want to wake up: with you wrapped around me.” He found my lips and kissed me passionately with emotions I couldn’t decipher. “Shh,” he whispered on my lips, then he kissed and sucked them, licking me more i
n that way that he did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I hadn’t quite mustered the strength to open my eyes yet. I turned and rolled over onto my belly. I was somewhere between semi-conscious and dream-like haze. It was still dark; the light hadn’t permeated my eyelids. I didn’t care what time of the day it was, but something felt different about today. Like I should wake up different. Maybe it was just Sunday and I wasn’t used to my day off, slothing in sweatpants if I wanted. Or shopping . . . No it wasn’t that. Today even smelt different. I had this feeling of being mismatched. Maybe it was Monday! In that case, holy shiznet.

  I rolled lazily onto my side and blinked, equally indolent, letting the light crack through my eyelids. Like a meteor it all came hurtling back to me.

  I was in Mitchell’s house. In his bed. I didn’t have to look down at myself to know that I was gloriously naked. I held the palm of my hand to my forehead, hoping that the harder I pressed my head the further away I would disappear. I peeked out of one eye. Nope, still here. Well, great!

  Looked like I would have to handle this in a more mature way. After all, I was a grown woman and couldn't do magic. But I could handle Mitchell, even though I was hoping he’d ducked out for coffee.

  I focus on something else, other than the bubble of mortification I was currently sitting in on Mitchell’s bed. It’s not like I regretted last night. Who would? He’d blown my fucking mind with words and shown me what its like to be cherised. I pulsed between my thighs with the memory. My body was governed by Mitchell, and he wasn’t even in the room. Yet thinking of him, his hot sexy body, the way he spoke to me through sex tugs on all of the right places.

  Where was he? I crawled to the edge of the bed and sat down. A heavy thudding sound, intermittent pause, thwack, thwack again. Could it be the beat of a drum? Was Mitchell a drummer? I knew he had extremely talented hands.

  What was Mitchell doing? And why had I not woken up wrapped in his arms like he’d told me I would? My heart beat indignantly in my chest. I huffed and blew a stray lock of hair out of my eyes.

  I bet I looked like three day old road kill. I was imagining black smudged raccoon eyes, and my hair, I run my hands over it, I find that I’m sporting a gruesome pile of bed hair. A big blonde tangled nest that would take me copious amounts of conditioner to get the knots out. I resigned to getting out of bed, I needed to use the bathroom but I would try not to look in the mirror until I’d washed my face and found a hairbrush to run through my hair.

  My toes snagged on Mitchell’s shirt from the night before. I threw it on and inhaled his familiar scent as I padded into the bathroom. His smell should be illegal. I bit my lip as the thought of where his hands had explored . . . oh sweet Baby Jesus, I was hurtling into the tremendous vortex of Mitchell. My pulse quickened. I couldn’t deny his effect.

  I was distracted from my situation by how massive the bathroom was. A shower that would easily house up to ten bodies. It featured water jets strewn over the black marbled tile and, my personal favorite, a rainforest shower head. A spa bath, equally as big as the shower, took up the center of the room. How ostentatious was this man? I wondered if he’d filled up that tub and used it to max capacity, sloshing about with another women.

  Jesus, what was I doing getting in deeper with him? Clearly I didn’t think straight when he was near me. I was more practical than this. But why did it make me feel empty when I thought of not being around him? I wasn’t making any clear-cut decisions about where this dalliance was heading, its so unlike me, being a control freak, as Ariel refers to me, came naturally to me and I had to push to let this run its course. I predict stormy seas are ahead.

  Being with Mitchell was like trying to catch a cloud. He moved, changed shape and disappeared too fast, whereas my decisions were more measured and practical. I had captured a little snapshot of him in this last week. A small pocket of time. It was too short. It would never be enough.

  Would he be enough? Could he give me what I wanted? I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but men like Mitchell, total sex gods, did not make good boyfriends. I’m sure his principal pedigree was mostly made up of bad-boy, this was not a trait you learned, you either had it or you didn’t and Mitchell Stone was the kind of package that came tied in a bow full of trouble.

  I peered up into the mirror at my face. Water dripped off the tip of my narrow pointed nose. I tried to focus on the droplets washing down the sink’s hole. I imagined twisting down the same hole just so I didn’t have to face Mitchell. What if he wanted me to leave? What if he wasn’t even here? WOW! I’d never thought of that. It would be like payback; I’d done the same thing our second morning together.

  I walked back through the bedroom while I piled my hair into a high ponytail, and that beating noise was still in effect. I walked down the stairs and hastily fingered the shirt buttons through their little holes. Of course I couldn’t get my fingers to work when I wanted them to. I skipped down the last few steps, vaguely remembering how unreal this loft apartment is, until I came to a shuddering halt.

  There was Mitchell, a bouncing piece of art that had indelibly wrapped me around his awe-encompassing life all in a matter of eight days, punching the total shit out of a boxing bag in the middle of his lounge room. My jaw was somewhere at my bare feet.

  Mitchell was certainly a sight to behold. I could only see the back view. All of his bronzed glory was on show, the gym shorts he wore went to mid-thigh in length, he was barefoot, and oddly that turned me on. His back muscles moved gracefully with each strike of the bag. He hit it hard and in quick succession, and then jumped back only to pounce forward again to give it another beating.

  Sweat had given his body a shimmery glow, showcasing his build to the finest degree. The color in his tattoos was so bright, but blurred as he moved his thick arms quickly. He wore headphones, the kind that sat round on your ears, they looked like Dr Dre beats. They sat over the top of a black cap the he’d turned back to front.

  I didn’t think there was a more amazing sight than seeing Mitchell in all of his Zeus-like proportions. I could fully understand why Minnie and her friend had dripped off him. Mitchell was special. Beautiful, but not just on the outside. Again, I felt like I was sneaking a look into his private life, and that maybe I should call his name, but heaven knows how I could stop this one-of- a-kind piece of unownable art from hitting that poor bag.

  He hit it like his life depended on knocking it further each time he pounded it. He gave the bag some kicks for good measure and halted as fast as he had struck. His breathing was heavy and labored, biceps heaving up and down with each breath.

  I wanted to run to him at breakneck speed and throw my arms, OK, and my legs, around him.

  He turned the one-hundred-and-eighty degrees that would bring us face to face, and I mentally prepared myself to be undone by his green eyes that slayed me, eclipsed through to my very soul, where I didn’t want him to be. I didn’t get the chance to blanket my flat out stare before he perused me sedately, with his eyes. He was totally fucking me with his eyes. Holy hell.

  “Hey you.” He spoke through heaving pants of exurtion and cracked his neck from side to side.

  “What did that bag ever do to you?” I took a step forward and bit at my bottom lip so I didn’t say something insipid. I wasn't sure if he would be happy that I’d encroached on his bag time.

  “Come here.” He pulled the headphones off along with the phone he had clipped into the waistband of his shorts. Shorts that were so low on his hips that I could bump my finger over the well-defined muscles like little gorgeous mountains all the way down to that delicious little snail trail of fuzzy hair.

  He leaned toward a coffee table and dropped his phone. I gulped and stood rooted to the ground. I wasn’t a Barbie doll. I didn’t move just because he wanted me to. My heartbeat was as loud as a punch to the bag.

  “Eden?” he said questioningly with his highly raised eyebrow. “Are we good?”

  I nodded my head like a bobble-headed Barbie tha
t I loathed. Jeez, woman, Simon says speak before you look like one of his previous dopes. “Yeah I’m great, you’re sweaty and I need caffeine.” I spoke fast and concise and walked in the opposite direction to him and followed the sweet smell of my morning perkiness; coffee. Bless him for having a cappuccino machine. He just jumped forty rungs up the ‘qualities of a great boyfriend’ ladder.

  Boyfriend? Had that really crossed my mind? Ummm no, there were one hundred reasons for him being the wrong type of boyfriend material for every great one.

  “Mitch, were do you keep the—” I called over my shoulder. Coffee would give me some clarity, then I would cab it back to my apartment and make an appointment for therapy with Ariel.

  “Cups.” He was standing behind me, eager. “Here.” He reached up next to me and pulled two double walled glass mugs out of the cupboard and placed them under the double spouts. Leaning over my shoulder, he pressed the button that ground the fresh beans, I inhaled the aroma like it was my antidote for negativity. Mitchell moved to lean up against the island bench, I had to turn around; giving him my back would be rude and my parents had taught me manners. If that was my cure then Mitchell was the elixir that knocked me off my safe little perch, ruined for anyone else, but it wouldn’t matter, I would slip that Mickey Finn into every hour of my day on purpose.

  He’s arms were folded casually across his chest, it accentuated his tattoo sleeve that painted a beautiful array of flowers and sweeping waves of blue ocean. One foot rested over the other, his lip firmly lodged between teeth, head tilted and a crackling spark of heat danced in his eyes, he raked them over my body kindling my inner slut. I knew he felt it. The crackle. He knew I knew too. Maybe we were both as emotionally fucked as each other, I hadn’t considered that. My heart bounced in my chest, the coffee long forgotten.