Inked Temptation (Inked Series, #1)

by Maree, Kay

  “I do trust you.”

  Painstakingly slowly, he slides the stockings down my legs, once off he throws them to the floor. Lifting my left leg, he begins a torturous pace with his mouth, placing soft kisses along the inside of my leg. When he reaches my panty covered pussy, his warm breath washes over me, sending shivers racing through me. A soft moan leaves my lips, but he ignores it as his mouth slides back down my left leg. Pausing at my knee, he sucks the skin on the underside into his mouth. My leg tenses as heat rushes to my aching clit.

  “X.....” comes out on a whimper, but again he ignores my pleas for more.

  Lifting my right leg, he repeats the action, setting my blood on fire. When he runs his nose over my covered clit, my head begins to spin. He pushes his hands up under my dress until they engulf my breasts. When he pinches my nipples with his fingers and continues his assault on my clit with his nose, my back bows off the bed. My mouth opens on a silent scream as my muscles tense, waiting for the fall to happen, but before I can get there he pulls away.

  “Please,” I whimper.

  His fingers slide back down my body leaving goosebumps in their wake. When he reaches my panties, he grips the sides of the lace material and slowly pulls them down my legs. Sliding up my body once again, he pushes my dress to my waist as he goes. His mouth lands on my neck and I turn my head, giving him all the room he needs. I moan as his tongue slides down along my collarbone. My hips puch upward and I feel his hard cock rub against my aching clit. I gasp when the metal hoop from his piercing catches my clit sending a whole new sensation racing through me.

  There’s something sexy about us both being fully clothed as he enters me in one smooth, agonisingly slow thrust and I buck my hips, needing the friction against my clit. With one of his large hands wrapped through the strands of my hair and the other pinning my hip down to the bed, he’s completely stopping my movements. A soft whine escapes my lips before his mouth covers mine in a quick kiss, effectively silencing me. I stop trying to move against him and lock my gaze with his.

  “I need you,” he grits out between clenched teeth, proving how much control he has and how close he is to shattering it.

  “I need you too,” I managed to respond as he flexes inside me and my body begins to hum.

  Cupping my hands against his face, my nails rake through his now neatly trimmed beard and without breaking eye contact with him, I roll my hips the best I can while he’s still pinning me to the bed. His head falls forward, his warm breath coats my face and his eyes stay locked with mine as a single tear rolls down his cheek. I lean forward and lap it up with my tongue before it has time to drop off his chin.

  “Help me breathe,” he whispers.

  His words are so raw they cause tears to spring to my eyes. Slowly he begins to thrust, moulding our bodies together like a well-rehearsed slow dance. This isn’t a race to the finish, this is us letting go of the hurt we’ve been through in the past week and melding our hearts back together, repairing the cracks which could have torn us apart but instead brought us closer together.

  “Love me,” I gasp out as my body arches on the cusp of what could only be described as pure ecstasy.

  “For a lifetime,” he chokes out on a deep growl, pushing as deep as he can go before letting go sending my body into a soul shattering climax.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Xavier

  The moment the town car pulls into the long driveway and slows to a stop in front of the open doors of the little chapel at Lake Macquarie Memorial Park, my heart squeezes as if caught in a vice. Sweat forms on my brow at the thought of getting out of the car. Stepping out makes it all too real, I can no longer pretend it’s all a bad dream that I’ll eventually wake up from. Fuck, how I wish this was just a bad, fucking dream. Blowing out a shaky breath, I squeeze my eyes shut as images of my mother’s face slam into me, one after the other. My mouth dries, throat closes and I can’t seem to swallow the dryness away. It’s the same feeling I had when I woke up this morning. From the minute my feet touched the floor, I felt like I was stumbling and trying not to trip over invisible lines. I don't think I have ever felt so off center in my life. It was as if one more wrong move and my already flaky heart was gonna shred into tiny pieces. Every breath was like a shard of glass tearing through my throat, my eyes burned from forcing the tears back. It became worse the second I put my suit on. I felt like I was suffocating, the walls were closing in around me. I needed something to ground me and I needed it before I let the raw grief swamp me and drag me under.

  Everything became methodical at that point:

  - pull on boxer briefs.

  - shirt on, takes forever to button with trembling fingers.

  - roll on socks.

  - drag on pants and fumble with zipper and button.

  - spend an eternity tying the fucking tie.

  - slip feet into shoes.

  - shrug on jacket.

  It had seemed to take hours as I’d struggled to ready myself and had turned into a battle I was sure I didn’t want to fight. All I’d really wanted to do was crawl into bed and hold Ally in my arms until the pain went away.

  Now, I’m here and I know I have to get out of the car. I’m not even sure my shaky legs have the strength to keep me upright. I fist my trembling hands on my thighs, needing a few moments to compose myself.

  Warmth engulfs both of my hands, offering a promise of support, security. Peeling my eyes open, I look down to see Ally’s small hands folded over mine. With that one simple touch, air gushes from me and I’m grounded in the moment. Knowing I have her by my side makes everything a little more bearable.

  Stepping from the car, I button my jacket and pull the sunglasses down over my eyes. I suck in a deep breath, the surrounding chill a welcome respite from the stuffiness of the car. I glance around at all the people who are gathered, but don’t take in their faces, it’s all just a blur.

  I reach out to help Ally from the car and fix her black shawl in place as it falls over her shoulders. Dad steps from the car on the other side and comes around to join us.

  “Good to hear they’re playing one of your mother’s favorite songs,” dad husks out while looking at the ground and before taking a few deep breaths.

  Honestly, I didn’t even notice. Turning slightly towards the door, I hear A Thousand Years by Christina Perri floating on the air. My mum loved the Twilight series and when this song was released, before she became sick, whenever it came on the radio, my father would dance with her around the kitchen. Mum loved to cook and ninety percent of the time, the kitchen was where you’d find her.

  Ally grips my hand tight in hers and I realise my breaths are coming in heavy pants so, I concentrate on her touch and draw strength from it to calm my breathing. Flicking my eyes around, I notice the people gathered here have their heads lowered as if they’re remembering a time with my mum and my heart does some funny shit in my chest.

  The town car pulls away and a pristine white hearse pulls in at a slow crawl. The blue sky, the people, the music - all fade into a blur as the back door opens. I know it’s my cue to step up but my feet feel like they’re cemented to the ground. Releasing my hand, Ally presses a soft kiss to my cheek.

  “You’ve got this, Baby,” she whispers before stepping to my father's side and taking his hand in hers. Biting my quivering lip, I prepare to move when I feel hands hit my back. I’m so focused on mum’s casket, I don’t realise Beau and Justin have stepped up to my side. A few of my dad’s fire buddies step up to the back of the car. With a little help from Beau, we take the steps separating us from the back of the car. Each man lines up and the pure white casket is slid from the hearse into our hands. I grip the gold handle and the smell of mum’s favorite lavender flowers mixed with white roses hits my nose. My head spins with memories I thought were locked deep down for now. But the instant the smell hits my nostrils, my fragile mind is assaulted with sweet memory after sweet memory of a woman who made me into the man I am today - strong an
d loyal. Sucking in a lungful of air and with my boys by my side, I carry my mother – the woman who held me for so many years, on her final walk in this world as the final lyrics of Let her Go by Passenger floats from the chapel. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other are the words I repeat to myself as we carry her from the car to the chapel entrance. People whose lives she touched in some way are all here. Dad’s firehouse crew stand a guard of honor as we breach the entrance. I look at the long walk way and pray my legs can carry us both up to the small table she will sit upon for the duration of the service.

  I snatch a quick look back to see Ally behind us, her arm wrapped tightly around his waist. His body is hunched, pain and loss rolling off his tired frame in waves. Mum was his world. His life.

  Donald, the Funeral Director, begins to speak but I tune out what he is saying. I’m not able to turn my mind completely off and hear soft cries as they echo off the high vaulted ceiling. They are like wrecking balls going off inside my head, pounding away. My eyes sting from staring at the wall ahead, willing the tears not to fall.

  “Emily left a message for her loved ones,” Donald murmurs into the microphone, his words capture my attention.

  “As you know Emily suffered from Alzheimer’s and before she lost herself completely, she wanted to leave something behind for the one’s she loved most of all.”

  Shuffling papers around, he blows out a steady breath while a white screen descends from the ceiling behind the coffin. On pressing a button on the remote control in his hand, my mother’s sweet voice flows through the speakers scattered above us. A photo appears on the screen, it’s of the three of us smiling at the camera. I remember the photo – mum’s brother had taken it when we were visiting him in Queensland one summer before he passed away. I would have been about seventeen years old at the time.

  “If tomorrow you wake without me, know that no matter what, I will always be shining down on you. I’d like for your memories of me to be happy ones. Smile when the sorrow hits. Lift your face towards the sun and feel the warmth. If it’s raining, lose yourself to the simple drops. Be thankful to everyone you encounter and love those closest to you for you never know when your time will be done. Cherish the simple things and guard those which are sacred to your heart. Find that one love, your true soul mate who both pushes and savors you and hold on with both hands.”

  Photo after photo fade in and out. Family. Friends. Vacations. Christmas mornings. Birthdays.

  “To my son - I watched you grow and wished every day you would slow down so I could hold on just little bit longer. Just as the seasons changed far too quickly, before I knew it, right before my eyes my little boy had grown into a strong loyal man. I’m so very proud of you. Always remember, no matter where your path leads you in life, you are stronger than you believe. Mother’s hold their children's hands for a short time but we hold them in our hearts forever. My son, I am so thankful that my heart held you in it for a lifetime.”

  I swallow down a deep breath as tears stream unchecked over my cheeks., Ally’s warm hand keeps me grounded in the moment as the video continues to play. Photos from our life together fade in and out as my mum’s voice sounds out clear.

  “My husband. My best friend. My soulmate. From teenagers to adults, our love withstood the test of time. I knew, no matter what, I would always love you. I cherished every moment I had with you. In the dark it was your smile, our dreams, our life together which pulled me back to you. I realised I was falling and I knew I had to do this one thing for you to hold onto forever. I know, even at my worst, your love, strength and desire will never waiver.”

  There was a short pause before she continued.

  “Before I slide away completely, I want you to know, I saw in your eyes how much you missed the old me. I heard your words when you sat with me and told me stories of our love. Our son. You always had me wanting more – wanting to remember. I would smell your scent before you even entered the room and smile because I knew you would hold me. Read to me. Show me how very much you loved me. So today, I leave you, my husband, with these words.....”

  Tears streamed from my eyes and when I glanced around, there wasn’t a dry eye to be seen.

  “I want, no need you to know, I have always loved you with all my heart and I will miss you every day until you’re back in my arms again. When you feel sad, cry – for the tears which creep down your cheeks will become mine and I will rid you of the sadness. When you’re happy, the warm feeling you have will be me holding you close. When you’re alone in the dark of night and a warm breeze kisses your cheeks, it will be me hugging you. Our story will live on in you until the time comes for you to join me. Until then, my love will be with you, guiding you from above. Your Emily. Your forever. Your Wife.”

  A picture fades in of my parents on their wedding day. It’s a shot which was taken from off to one side, without them knowing. It’s natural, beautiful. My dad’s arms are wrapped around mum’s waist and he’s staring down at her with so much love and adoration in his eyes. Mum is facing the setting sun, a peaceful look on her face and a smile curving her lips. The sunset of oranges, reds and purples blankets around them.

  After a moment when only soft crying can be heard, Donald speaks again.

  “Xavier, Emily’s son would like to share with you now.”

  Squeezing Ally’s hand one more time, I gather the strength to stand. On shaky legs, I make my way to the dais. Blowing out a deep breath, I pull a sheet of paper from my suit jacket and with trembling hands, place it on the stand in front of me.

  “My mother's soul was beautiful and wherever a beautiful soul has been there is a trail of the most beautiful memories. Those memories are all my father and I have left to cling to. Losing a mother, a wife, is well it’s permanent and inexpressible. It’s a wound that will never quite heal. Time will allow it to fade. Days will carry on. The nights will fall and the stars will dance in the sky. Me? I’ll continue to be here in the fog of loss, like a cold blanket wrapped around me. Forever longing to look into her crystal blue eyes, to hear her telling me everything will be okay. Never will I watch a smile break out like pure sunshine across her face, filling me with comfort. I will never again hold her hand, feel the warmth of her touch or have her hug me. Hear her sweet voice which danced over me like the sun on the crystal calm of a blue lake. You will leave here today and your life will carry on. She touched all of you in some way or you wouldn't be here but she loved my dad and I more than breathing. Now we have to learn to breathe without her, to wake in the morning and find ways to move through the empty day which was always filled with her being a mother and a wife. She was always there - in the dark when, as a 4-year-old boy, a nightmare took up space inside my dreams. When, as a 10-year-old boy, I grazed my knees learning how to skateboard. Then, as an 18-year-old young man who had his first taste of love and heartbreak. She was always there to hold me. Kiss me. Take away the fears, the pain, the tears. A lifetime she was my strength, my light and my life. A lifetime which was far too short. I regret that it took me so long to find what her and my father have, a deep love where just looking at that person takes your breath away. I hate that a disease took her memory before I could introduce her to the woman I have fallen in love with. The woman who loves me unconditionally. I will take my mother and all our memories with me as I travel throughout the rest of my days. I will strive to show those I encounter, some of the love she showed me. The world will be dimmer, maybe a little bitter and colder than when my mother was in it. My mother – my first love.”

  Biting my lip, I pause for a moment and lock eyes with Ally as she rubs dad’s back. Silent tears stream down her cheeks, but with a small nod of encouragement from her to keep going, I blow out another breath. Gripping the stand in front of me, I steady myself.

  “Today, I’ll hold my head high knowing she taught me how to be the man I have become. She showed me right from wrong, held my hand and picked me back up when I fell. Today is a day I fall but tomorrow I will get back
up even stronger, knowing she taught me how. Even on her weakest days she held her head high, pushed harder and continued to smile. I remember her telling me, the best thing in life was finding that one love who could help me overcome any obstacle. To always live for today and reach for my dreams. I have always lived by her words so, today I stand before you a better man because I had her love and guidance. I have said goodbye a thousand different times and ways in my life, but this is by far the hardest goodbye I have ever had to say. So, today I won't say goodbye. I refuse to utter the word and I will end this by saying – Mum, you were one in a million and will forever live on in my heart. Until I see you again, know that even in death, you will never be forgotten. I love you, Mum.”

  Folding the paper in my hand, I take the two steps separating me from the coffin. Thick tears fall free as I place my hand against the cool wood - Close your Eyes by Michael Bublé floats around me.

  I stood watching as people who cared about my mother approached her coffin and placed flowers on the wooden top. Pulling dad and I into their arms, kissing our cheeks and saying, “I’m so sorry for your loss” and “She was beautiful, so beautiful.”

  I feel numb, she was my mother and now I have to live without her. I’m battling to go through the motions of being polite before they file from the chapel. Sun’s rays filter through the pretty stained-glass windows to illuminate the coffin and it seems so appropriate. I run my fingers over the small buds of flowers which cascade over the side of the coffin in a rainbow of colours

  My memory drifts to a time when, as a child I was in the garden with my mother helping her to cut flowers which she’d arrange in vases throughout our home. Her fingers would entwine with mine as we walked back to the house, the sun shining down on her, lighting her up like the angel she was.

  I’m startled when my father places his hand on my back.

  “Sorry son, it's time.”