Bad Ink

by Megan Hetherington

  I tighten my grip. “We can’t do this. It would ruin us.”

  “Ruin us? Are you fucking loco? There is no ‘us’ to ruin.” Her head dances from side to side, making her hair ripple with sass.

  “So why did you kiss me that way?”

  “I thought if we fucked then I would get you out of my system. Like a bad itch that gets scratched.”

  For a nano-second, I loosen my hold but as her fingers slide away to my fingertips I clench them in a vise-like grip.

  I yank her back to the sofa, bracketing her with my arms. “You think you can handle my scratch do you, Kitty?” I rumble.

  “I’ve had more manly men than you. Raul.” She lengthens my name in a mock of my fighting identity.

  The mockery unleashes my inner beast. And it makes this acceptable.

  Raul can fuck Kitty until she screams for mercy.

  Isaac would complicate it with feeling and emotion. Emotion I can’t afford to serve up right now.

  “Let’s test it out?”

  I twist the strings on her top, the taut fabric digging into my palms; then I pull so hard, a welt instantly brands her skin before the straps snap.

  She gasps, at the same time as lust in her eyes ignites.

  “Like it do you?” I taunt.

  “Fuck you,” she scratches at my skin, grappling with the neck on my tee and trying in vain to rip it.

  I laugh. A deep, rumbling, merciless laugh and pull my hand over my head and slide the tee off effortlessly.

  Her eyes soak up my tattoos. I’m covered in them. From innocent, to jovial, to downright demonic.

  My muscles instinctively tense, as if I face an opponent in the ring. It doesn’t frighten her away, nor make her squirm, if anything it powers her on. She reaches with delicate fingers to trace the lines of ink which carve out the mythical dragon, whose scales snake down my stomach and under my waistband.

  I grab hold of her hand.

  “No, Kitty. Who said you could go there?”

  “Judging by the bulge in your shorts, I’d say it’s exactly where you want me to go.” She smirks, an expression I quickly wipe away. Forcing my lips on her and sucking, biting, and licking her mouth until she pushes balled-up fists on my chest and gasps for breath.

  She reaches her arms around her back to undo the clasp on her bra, but that’s not happening. I can’t handle seeing her perfection. I need to close my eyes and pretend she’s someone else, because if it snaps into my brain she is Cate, my teenage love, then I’ll crumble.

  Then she wouldn’t get what she is begging for.

  And she wouldn’t leave me alone.

  I deftly toss her onto her front, unhook the bra with one hand, and draw her back to my chest.

  “So, this is it?” I growl out. “If I give you what you want, you’ll leave me the fuck alone?”

  “Yes,” she snarls.

  Good. It’s the answer I need to hear.

  Yes, it was a mistake to buy her the car. I was drunk and reckless when I ordered it last night and thought I could make it part of the plan. But it was the least I could do. I wanted to help her somehow. To show her I was sorry to abandon her how I did.

  I stopped replying to her letters when I entered prison. The torment of them was too much. It didn’t help to know there was a real world out here with her in it. I wanted her to forget me. Get on with her life. I couldn’t bear to think of her mourning over me, suffering a dream which would never become real.

  She needs to become the woman I always knew she would. Strong. Independent. Happy. And that requires me to be out of the picture.

  I grab a handful of her hair, wrapping it around my wrist and tugging back on it until her back arches away from me. My greedy hand rubs over her tits; the soft skin and hard nipples teasing across my palm. Quickly, I banish the image of her that flashes in my mind.

  “You sure?” I slant in to lick her elongated neck from her collarbone to her earlobe. Inhaling the sweet, spicy smell of her skin—an exotic mix of cinnamon and orange blossom.

  “Yes.” She grinds her ass against my cock. She was right about that. Without even a touch, or a suck, or a measly lick she’s made my cock as hard as steel. Ready to slice into her at a moment’s notice.

  Her hands reach around her back, and dive between my skin and training shorts.

  She purrs when she realizes there’s nothing to stop her from grabbing hold of my cock. Teasing me, she ignores it and scrapes her palms around to my ass. Digging her fingernails into my muscles. Instinctively I tense, pushing into her soft, voluptuous backside.

  “Is this how you want it, Kitty?” I let go of her hair and her head falls forward.

  She chuckles behind the sheet of hair. It seems as if she gives as good as she gets.

  With both palms curled around the waistband on her shorts, I yank them down her legs. Closing my eyes against the vision of her peachy ass.

  Fuck, I’ve got it bad.

  I take my cock out before she tries to touch it. I’m not ready for that—I don’t want her fingers or mouth around it. It’s too personal.

  Teasing my hard length up and down the middle of her perfect backside, I can’t resist spanking one cheek and then the other. Biting my lip against a groan when her creamy skin taints with the redness my palm leaves behind.

  She tenses when I nudge my cock gently against her puckered hole.

  “You still a virgin when it comes to real sex, Kitty?” I growl.

  “Yes,” she whispers in a surprisingly innocent fashion. Then turns to look over her shoulder at me with a smirk kicking up on her fuckable lips. “Unlike you,” she mocks. “I guess that’s what prison does.”

  Fuck you, Kitty! Without warning, I slam straight into her pussy. The electric shock, intense, first off hitting my balls then ricochets around my body with heart-arresting voltage. The gasp she lets out echoes in my head.

  I still, sucked into a vortex I’ve no desire to pull away from. Her walls have clamped around me and fuck it feels good.

  It shouldn’t feel this good.

  There’s a danger, if I stay like this, I’m gonna come and after a few scary seconds when my balls tighten and my cock throbs, I pull out. So slow, I can feel every ripple of the walls of her pussy as I glide free.

  I bite down on my lip. Hard. I can’t let on how good this feels, because then I’m ruined. She needs to feel I’m only doing this for her, to make her hate me and with that thought, I pound back in. Relentlessly, I pump harder and harder with each thrust, holding onto her shoulders so I can push her back on to me.

  Her groans and screams fill the room. And with every cell in my body I’m desperate to join her. To shout out her name and roar with the satisfaction I’m feeling.

  To still my mind, I bite harder on my lip to shut off my impending orgasm.

  But fuck is it good. I want to stay here forever. Fuck her over and over again.

  With every ounce of willpower I possess, I pull out before it’s too late.

  Squeezing out the last thought of how good it was I implant a vision into the forefront of my mind, of Carlos snorting coke and taunting me to punch him.

  Back in control, I sit on my heels and pull my shorts over my limping dick, leaving her to flop prone onto the sofa.

  “Is that it?” she mumbles into the cushion, her lips dragging along its knitted surface.

  I want to laugh. Hard. She’s so fucking feisty and I can’t bear how much I love it.

  “Yep.” I run my dry palm over my head and onto the back of my neck. Anything else and I’d get lost in this woman. But I can’t admit that, so say, “Everything else I save for the whores.”

  She huffs.

  I chuckle, in the hope doing so, makes her mad. And she needs to be a mad as hell when she thinks of me. Because I need her to stay the fuck away.

  She pushes onto her knees, picks up my tee and wipes her pussy on it, flinging in over her shoulder and into my face.

  I chuckle again. I fucking love her fig
ht.

  Still facing away, she re-clasps her bra. I’m ready to close my eyes if she attempts to turn around before covering her tits as my willpower is not strong enough.

  After wriggling her shorts back up and pulling on her top—tying a knot in the snapped straps. She asks. “Where exactly are we? I don’t have my wallet on me, only my phone.” She turns to look at me. “Oh, and don’t get an idea I’m tapping you for money, because I’m not. I’d rather walk.“

  “Why you even saying that? You’ve got a perfectly good car down there.”

  “I’m not taking it from you.”

  “You already have.”

  In my drunken state I went along with Carlos’s taunts that I should buy a new car. Only I didn’t buy one for me. It seemed a clever at the time. A parting gift. An apology for how I would leave her and how I left her last time. If Carlos asks, I’ll say mine’s on order. It’ll be over by the time he finds out.

  “No, it’s not how this works. You stole my car and left yours on my drive. I’m simply returning your car so you can return mine.” She scours the floor for her ball cap, pulling it out from under the sofa.

  “That car will be dog-food cans by now. And your new car is non-returnable.”

  “You have it.”

  “I can’t. It’s registered in your name, your address.”

  She looks close to tears. “I don’t have time for this shit, Isaac.”

  “If you don’t like it, sell it.”

  I pick up the tee and walk off into my bedroom before I say something I shouldn’t, something caring and with empathy.

  “Isaac,” she shouts after me.

  “What?” I stop walking but don’t turn around.

  “Why do you have that tattooed on your back?”

  “What?” I turn to her. I have nigh on fifty tattoos across my back and shoulders.

  “Hope,” she breathes.

  I shrug my shoulders, putting my hand to my neck and rubbing my palm over the italic-scripted word and the two outlines of butterflies which float from it. Murmuring my answer as I make my way back on my mission. “It’s what I clung on to in prison.”

  Just as I reach the door, I push my hand into my shorts pocket and retrieve her car keys. “Here. Let yourself out.” I throw them at her feet.

  Stepping out of my shorts, I walk straight through to the granite-tiled wet-room, turning on the overhead shower and the jets which pulse out from the side walls. I press my fists onto the wall and hang my head under the pummeling water, watching the ravines flow down the side of my head and splatter onto the floor. When the water hits my ass, it stings with the scratches she’s made.

  I don’t know about her but the itch has multiplied and what happened out there still doesn’t feel like the end.

  She wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. And neither was I. The way she responded was like nothing else I’ve felt. It’s not like she succumbed or moaned like a whore. Or even whimpered like an innocent girl. She pushed back and gave as good as she got.

  Without knowing quite what to make of it, I rub the towel over my head and pad into the bedroom, heading for the walk-in closet. As I step over the threshold and the light turns itself on, I throw my towel backward into the bedroom.

  There’s a squeal which I react to, turning around to face Cate who’s sat on my bed holding my towel at the end of an outstretched arm. In a panic, she throws the towel toward me and I let it drop to my feet.

  “I thought I told you to go?” I bark out to her. Remembering at the last moment to make it sound harsh.

  “But I asked you a question, and you didn’t answer,” she protests, constantly staring at my dick. I don’t blame her but I wish she wouldn’t because I can feel it twitching alive again.

  “You got what you wanted. Answering questions wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “I... um…”

  She’s having difficulty forming a sentence which isn’t surprising considering I’m now sporting a massive boner.

  “Isaac?”

  I have no idea what the question means—I need to get my head into gear first. Because right now I’ll take the meaning in a direction I’ll regret.

  “Have you not learnt coming into a man’s bedroom and staring at his dick leads only to one thing?” Yep, that wasn’t the sensible response.

  She answers with an imperceptible nod of her head.

  “Do you want to touch it?” I dig a deeper hole.

  “Yes,” she whispers, leaving her moistened lips parted at the end of her word.

  Slowly, I pace toward her, stopping outside her reach. She bends forward and I take one step back. It seems she does want to touch it.

  My dick throbs and my balls tighten with desire; low in my belly I feel a pull too strong to resist.

  “You sure about this, Kitty?”

  Once again, she nods, her eyes alive with a flickering flame.

  “Because I’ve lost the ability to be gentle. This time.”

  She sucks in a breath leaving her bottom lip trapped in between her teeth and nibbles on it, pensively. That will fall victim first, I decide.

  “You were gentle out there?” she asks, as if questioning if she can handle it.

  “There’s only one way to find out, Kitty.”

  I close the gap between us and she reaches out to touch my cock but I push her backward onto my bed instead. Before she can recover, I yank at her shorts, peeling them over her backside and down her legs. I blank out the image crawling into my mind of the last time I laid my eyes on her in this position. Bare and vulnerable. Eager and afraid. And also, of those times I laid by myself imagining whether I would ever experience her again.

  And with the memory laid before, me I blacken my thoughts. Because all that matters right now is to scratch the itch and drown those memories.

  I press her thighs out and upwards and lean in to inhale a deep breath, sniffing the arousal left from her orgasm, and making sure my one and parting memory has all the senses ticked.

  Usually, I don’t go down on women for fear of tasting the last guy who was there. And even though I know Cate has some guy she’s fucking, I want her so bad. And there’s also a perverse desire to drown out any fucking chance of him ever taking her again.

  The taste of her is divine. Sweet and tangy and uniquely her.

  She reaches her hands on to my head, encouraging me to stay there and give her pleasure.

  And that’s when my desire snaps.

  This isn’t how it will go down.

  I’m going to fuck her till she breaks. Take her to the point where all she ever wants is a gentleman. Not someone like me.

  With the taste of her on my tongue and lips, I kneel onto the bed hauling her further on to it.

  She tries to touch my cock and against my better judgment I let her. After two or three gentle strokes I decide that’s enough playing around. I line my cock at her entrance and slowly let her draw me in. A sigh leaves my lungs, travels up my throat and bursts out of my mouth before I can swallow it.

  Then, I open my eyes to discover tears misting hers. Urgently, I coral every dark thought I can muster to leave behind this feeling of bliss and of being home with my one true love, and callously, I pull out.

  She whimpers.

  Good, I’ve made the right decision. Roughly, I grab her backside and flip her over, grappling with the flesh of her buttocks so I can push her onto her knees and slam back in.

  This is the only way. When I can’t see her. Where she can’t touch me. And all there is left, is to fuck her hard.

  It still feels good, way too good. I dig my fingers into her hips and pull her back, picking up pace and thrusting as hard as I can.

  Trying to blank her out isn’t working and every time I close my eyelids all I can see are her icy blue eyes. Soft, bright and hypnotic.

  When I try to think of other women, it makes me angry.

  The faster I go, the more difficult it becomes. This isn’t how it supposed to work with my girl.

>   I wrap my long fingers around the front of her neck, squeezing and lifting her chin. But instead of trying to break free she pushes her hips back on me. Meeting my thrusts with equal vigor.

  With a herculean amount of mind power, I push every thought away.

  She’s just another woman. She’s not my Cate.

  As soon as I get it straight in my mind, I feel myself about to orgasm, at the precise moment she shakes from within. Jesus Christ, I’ve never had a woman respond like this. With that, I catapult over the edge, tip my head back and blow out the pressure before the veins in my neck and temples explode.

  “Fuck!” I rumble from deep in my gut.

  Quickly, I pull out and come over her backside, smearing it around her gorgeous cheeks with my hand.

  With legs too weak to want to stand, I force myself up. Away from the body I want to lie with and cuddle.

  I stagger to my bathroom, leaving her flopped on the bed, and lean my head over the wash basin. Taking heavy breaths to calm my mind. I’m not sure how I should feel about this. It’s all wrong.

  Movement catches my attention and I glance out to the side as she pushes to her knees. Taking my tee from the floor she rubs the come off her backside and throws it at me.

  “You done now?” she snarls.

  “No, but you are,” I snap out, restraining my look to the basin. I can’t, not even for a second, look at her again because otherwise I’ll bridge the gap between us and hold her tight until everything else fades away.

  I kick the door shut and when I eventually re-emerge to the bedroom, she’s gone.

  14

  Cate

  When I get to the office, Elliot stands in my line of sight, dancing on his tiptoes and drumming his fingers together. He seriously looks as if he will pee his pants; he’s that excited. And for Elliot, it’s saying something.

  I throw a rolling scowl as I circle around him, casting my briefcase under my desk and slowly wheeling back my chair. “What?” I snap. Knowing I’ll lash out at everyone today. Even when it’s not their fault.

  “What the fuck?” He manages to whisper his cuss, before strutting across to the office door and shutting out any chance of Tessa hearing him. “What have you driven to work in?”