by Tina Donahue
“You will when I ink you.”
“I can’t wait. You’re sure you can’t do me this morning?”
He laughed. Oh, he could do her and planned to. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”
“What? Will Lauren be at the parlor? Do you think she’d object?”
“Probably not but I’m not talking about her or the parlor. I’m referring to what you missed here.”
She eased back, glanced around and finally sniffed. “Smells clean. Looks nearly as clean as my—” She stopped, her attention on the cocktail table and his gift, big as life. Marnie pointed. “Is that for me?”
“I thought you’d never notice.”
“Today’s not my birthday.”
“I had wrapping paper left over from my mom’s party.”
“You’re a good son. Do you always ignore the gifts people give to you?” She gestured to the box he still hadn’t opened.
“How about we tear into our presents at the same time?”
“Be careful. I don’t want yours to break.”
“I swear I’ll—”
“Race you.”
What? She tore at his box like a kid with a Christmas gift. Even so, Marnie was finding his a lot harder to get through since Tor had stuffed the container with wads of newspaper. By the time he’d unwrapped her dainty package that turned out to be a box of condoms, she’d unwrapped his, which held three boxes of rubbers.
Tor laughed. “Two minds with one great thought—wait.” Sobering, he held up his box. “You said these would break if I shook them or wasn’t careful.”
“I lied.”
She gave him a tantalizing look that raised the hairs on his balls and had his cock begging for her mouth and cunt.
“Nothing can hurt those babies,” she said. “They’re industrial strength and big enough for King Kong, which you most definitely are.”
God, he liked her. If Tor wasn’t careful, he’d fall in love. Could be he’d begun the journey already. “Oh yeah?” He tossed the condoms on a chair and crossed the room to her, planting one hand on her ass, the other on the back of her head. “Think we have enough rubbers?”
“Until noon, then we’re in trouble.”
Laughter poured from him and her, their joy filling the small house. Tor brushed his mouth over Marnie’s before diving in for a full taste of her. She drove her fingers through his hair and gripped his gray tank top with her other hand. Tor wasn’t certain who was grinding their hips more, her or him. Probably a tie. Her sweet mound made his shaft ache with carnal need. He was certain nothing could ever feel better than her hard nipples poking against his chest.
They swayed from side to side and turned in slow circles, trying to get closer, deepening the kiss.
Marnie pulled free first and panted. “Bedroom.” She tossed him the box of condoms she’d bought and grabbed the ones he’d given her. “Let’s go.”
With a fistful of his shirt, she pulled Tor down the hall.
“Wait.” He held back, wanting to tease and drive her even crazier with desire. “Wouldn’t you like to eat first?”
“Later.” She snaked her hand around the jamb and flicked on the bedroom light, brightening the space even more despite the sun bleeding past the closed shutters. “We’ll eat when we run out of condoms and have to play things safe like we did the last time we were together.”
He laughed. “I meant food.”
“Oh.” Marnie let go of him. After tossing her condoms on the bed and doing the same with his, she pulled off her top and rolled the thing into a ball. “You have some?”
He glanced at her tee hitting his chest. “Some what?”
“Food. You’re not keeping up,” she said, toeing off her huaraches.
“Who could with you?” He pitched his shirt past her shoulder. The garment hit the headboard and fell to the floor. “You’re Wonder Woman.”
“Badass. There’s a difference.”
She was moving at the speed of light. Tor was still undoing his jeans when Marnie already had hers off, had rid herself of her bra, and was in the process of pulling down her panties. She seemed to need him inside her fast—either she was dying for his loving…or she was worried what they were sharing might end. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t have to leave here for weeks or months, maybe longer.
“Yeah, I have food.”
Her face brightened in apparent surprise. She flung her underwear behind herself. The lingerie fell on top of his dresser, its mirror showing her mouthwatering ass and silky thighs.
“You know how to use a microwave?” she asked.
Damn, she was feisty today, probably because she trusted him. Pleased, Tor smiled. “I’ve had remedial lessons. I know how to cook pancakes, eggs, plantains…”
“Show off for me later; right now, all I want is meat.”
He actually blushed. “Fuck, what got into you?”
“Nothing yet.” She gestured to his fly. “You’re gigantic but even you can’t reach me from way over there.”
“Wanna bet?”
“I’m not a gambling woman.” She planted her hands on her lush hips and lifted her chin. “You have the goods? I wanna see. Show me.”
Tor stripped as though his clothes were on fire, his cock mega-hard and straining to get to her.
“Easily eleven inches,” she said, padding closer. “And that’s only your tat.”
“Oh yeah?” Tor suppressed his laughter. “How long is my rod?”
“The perfect size for me.” Marnie sagged into him. Her mouth on his, arms around his shoulders, pussy snuggled to his shaft.
A surge of tenderness rolled through Tor along with need so deep he found the feeling kind of frightening yet wonderful too. They kissed with the intensity of a couple facing a separation by war or the end of the world and fell to the mattress. His bedframe groaned. Neither of them paid any heed, rolling to the right, left and back with his strength finally winning out as he pulled her on top of him.
“Mind doing the work?” he asked.
Marnie ran her fingertips across his jaw, sending a storm of sensation through Tor.
“For you, anything.”
He liked what she’d said, playing with her boobs as Marnie rolled a condom over his length, the rubber bright red.
“Kind of flashy, no?” he asked.
“Turn out the lights and the condom glows in the dark.”
“No shit.” He grabbed the base of his rod and moved his shaft back and forth. “With this, I could work at the airport at night, directing planes.”
Marnie’s boobs shook with her laughter, the sound confident and free. “Or you could guide your thing into me.”
“Much better idea. Will you help?”
“Always.”
Their gazes remained locked as Marnie pushed to one knee to position the crown at her opening. She was slippery with moisture, her folds engorged to provide the perfect entrance for his cock. The crown slipped inside easily, a rush of warmth thundering through him.
Marnie lifted her face to the ceiling as she slid her body down his rod, swallowing his length. She presented a sight too beautiful for words, her tightness and heat snatching his breath. Once their curls touched, she released a soft sigh. The kind of sound someone would make after tasting a wonderfully prepared meal or seeing a stunning work of art.
Hell, this was far better. What man needed food or anything even Michelangelo had come up with when he had the desire of a good woman. Marnie was the best. Tor couldn’t get over how well they fit in every way.
He cupped her breasts, thrilled at their weight in his hands, her nipples peaking against the tops of his palms.
Making sounds of pleasure, she tightened her inner muscles around his cock, squeezing him as her hand would.
Raw desire battered Tor, warning he was about to shoot his wad after only a few seconds. Shit, he couldn’t come before they’d even gotten started. What would she think? What would he?
Tor curled his toes until th
ey hurt and did math equations in his head, the kind Marnie didn’t like. He needed a distraction from how she pulled up slowly, releasing his rod then sliding back down him.
He lost what little breath he’d had when their bodies touched.
She lowered her face, her eyes glassy. “You okay?”
No. He was going to come. Her pussy was fucking squeezing his rod again. “Perfect. Keep pumping. Please.”
“Fast? Slow?”
“Now.”
“Got it.” She eased up and glided back down, while continuing to constrict her inner muscles around his unruly cock.
The friction was spellbinding and torturous, challenging Tor to hold off and make Marnie crazed with need. Each time she began her downward descent, he flexed his hips, driving himself hard and fast back into her.
Her upper lip flapped with her loud exhale of breath. “Don’t stop. Please.”
Only a gun to his head would have forced him to do so. They worked each other’s bodies, their moves shaking the mattress and causing the headboard to tap against the wall. Tor didn’t care if the damn thing broke through the plaster, he’d fix the hole no matter how big.
These moments were too epic to stop. With his hand on her belly, Tor slid his finger over Marnie’s clit.
She whimpered, shoulders shooting to her ears.
He stroked her again, harder, faster.
Her throaty moan spoke volumes, telling him she liked what he was doing.
Tor rubbed and pumped, falling into an easy rhythm despite the sensations cascading through him, threatening to overwhelm. Sweat rolled down his face and across his chest. His muscles ached from tensing them too much. Still, he fought against release. Marnie did too. He saw torment on her face. If she clenched her jaw any harder, she’d break her molars.
Fuck, this was heaven.
He pushed harder and rubbed. She moved faster and squeezed.
They came on a shout and a wail, their rough breaths quickly taking over, her cunt pulsing around his rod.
Marnie collapsed on top of him, her mouth on his throat, breath skipping over his skin.
“Wow.” She coughed, her sweet little belly bumping into his. “The condom did everything the package said it would.”
Tor laughed, the effort almost killing him he was so spent. “The condom?” He smacked her ass playfully. “Bad girl.”
She stopped sucking his throat. “I can be. Sometimes I want to be.” On a grunt, Marnie pushed to her elbows. “How about you?”
He loved her tangled hair. Several strands clung to her cheeks, making her look well loved. Lust, rather than fatigue, sparkled in her eyes.
“I’m never a bad girl,” he said. Tor flexed his rod within her heated sheath. “Too much equipment.”
Marnie grinned. “I’m not complaining.” She tightened her inner muscles, proving she liked his junk. “And you know what I meant—what I was talking about. Do you ever do kink?”
Sometimes, though Tor hadn’t expected her to ask. “Do you?”
“Haven’t with you. Want to try?”
“You mean bondage, spanking, stuff like that?”
“Within reason. Not to hurt.”
“God no. I’d never harm you.” As tired as he’d been a moment ago, Tor was as alert now, wanting to reassure Marnie she had nothing to worry about from him. No way would he ever be like her dad. He cupped her face. “We can try whatever you want. If you enjoy what we do, we’ll continue. If you don’t, we won’t.”
“Not today. I’m not much of a badass as yet, but I will be.”
He pulled Marnie close and hugged her without reservation. “Whenever you’re ready baby, just say the word.”
She wanted to try everything with Tor, liking him more with each second, amazed at how much fun he was to be with. Marnie couldn’t recall the last time she’d laughed as much or enjoyed sex as she did with him.
After a quick rest, he rolled them over and kissed Marnie deeply, stroking her neck and shoulder, relaxing and arousing her. A spectacular combination. After making out for minutes, he put on a new condom—this one bright yellow—and entered her missionary style, affection in his eyes, his smile broad enough to make dimples.
Marnie touched the creases in his cheeks and sighed. “You have to quit shaving around me.”
Tor kept pumping, a slow, steady slide in and out of her body. “Why?”
“I want to feel your stubble.”
“You will after the first session with your tat.”
She moaned softly at his hand on her clit, his rod continuing to stretch her channel. “You don’t intend to shave?”
“Not after we’re through at the parlor and come back here.” He thrust into her again, slightly harder this time, and then paused to gulp air. “Remember me talking about babying you? If you stay the night, I can take care of my work. Give you a bath. Rub lotion on you.”
Sounded wonderful. “Is that a rule?”
“Part of the licensing in this state. If I don’t follow the statutes, the powers that be could shut me down.”
“Bastards. Guess I’ll have to stay.”
They smiled at each other and finally fell silent to concentrate on their lovemaking. Marnie broke before Tor did, her body greedy for every touch, each kiss, her joyous cries filling the room. He followed on an unrestrained growl, sagging down to her, supporting most of his weight on his arms. As he rested, Marnie suckled the same spot on his neck she had earlier, not stopping this time.
“Giving me a hickey?” he finally asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Cool. I can show off when I get to the parlor.”
“Not for a long time.” Marnie didn’t want this to end.
They slept for less than an hour, their growling bellies driving them to the kitchen where they leaned against the counters, nude and relaxed. Tor gestured to his fridge. “I have ham, bacon, eggs, pancake mix, plantain, potatoes. What would you like?”
“To help.” She grabbed the spatula from the counter.
“You afraid of what I’ll come up with?” Tor crossed his arms over his chest, making his tat dance. “My mother taught me how to cook.”
“Mine too. And to pitch in.”
“If you insist.” He pulled out the bacon and ham, handing both to her. “If you don’t mind my asking, is your mom buried in one of the memorial parks here?”
The question surprised Marnie so much she stopped checking the cabinets for dinnerware.
“What are you looking for?” Tor asked.
“A platter, plates, utensils.”
He pulled out what she’d asked for.
Marnie opened the package of bacon. “Mamá’s buried in Miami.”
“More than an hour away? You’re not from this area?”
Her pulse started to race. “No. Miami.”
“What brought you to West Palm Beach?”
Marnie wanted to say the job at Alice’s shop, but didn’t, knowing how lame the answer would sound. Who moved over seventy miles for a retail position at a store that succeeded or failed on the whims of tourists? She recalled what Alice had said about telling Tor the truth concerning Ethan. Marnie didn’t want to, not today—these moments had been too perfect. They’d laughed and loved. Who knew when she’d have a chance to do so again? If Marnie piled too much crap on him, he’d take off. Hell, any sane man would.
Besides, she was ashamed at having fallen into the same trap her mother had.
“Just wanted to,” she finally said. “I’d been here before and liked the area.”
He put two plantains on the counter and pulled out a skillet. “You don’t get to visit her much if you’re here and don’t have a car. Do you take a bus to the cemetery?”
She lied with a nod.
“On Sundays?” he asked. “Did I keep you from going there this morn—?”
“No.” Marnie turned to him. “I want to be here. You didn’t keep me from anything. I usually go on Wednesdays.”
He rubbed the back of h
is neck. “For the next couple of weeks, you’ll be getting your tats then.”
“That’s okay. Mamá will understand. I’ll visit her when I’m finally pretty.”
“Hey, hey, hey. No talking like that, all right? You’re gorgeous exactly as you are. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
She had for years, first from the last words her father had said to her then from Ethan’s cruelty. When he got pissed, which was often, he couldn’t tell Marnie enough how ugly her scars were. How lucky she was to have him because no other man would be able to stomach her imperfections.
Tor leaned closer, studying her face. “Are you all right?”
“Hungry.” Marnie wrapped her arms around him. “Thanks for being such a great guy.”
“I thought I was a god.”
She laughed. If Marnie hadn’t, she might have cried, thinking how lucky she’d gotten to have met him.
Chapter Seven
On the day of Marnie’s first inking, Tor brought her to the parlor hours before the rest of the staff would arrive. He left the lights off in front and headed for the counter. “You need to fill out the forms before we can begin. Shouldn’t take more than two or three hours.”
He lifted a stack of papers, showing them to her.
Uh-huh. “Maybe we should wait until Jasmina or Lauren get here. They might know a shortcut.”
Tor gave her a wounded look. “What fun would there be in that?”
None, as far as Marnie was concerned. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Sure? What I want could take days.”
Sounded like a plan. “Before we do anything, show me where my portraits are going to go on the wall of fame.”
She went to the area where Lauren displayed his and Van Gogh’s work, all of the art magnificent. Tor’s was startlingly creative, his use of color and shading for his portraits like nothing she’d seen. Van Gogh’s paintings reminded her of his namesake—wild bursts of color, the images slightly surreal. As Marnie regarded the pieces, she munched on one of the pasteles Tor had gotten from his uncle’s restaurant, the puff pastry filled with cream cheese, glazed with sugar. An orgasm of taste in each bite.
Tor came up behind her. “I’m thinking about putting your stuff on easels outside.” He slipped his arms around her waist.
