The Hideaway (Lavender Shores Book 5)

by Rosalind Abel

  Through the session, his touch never left me. His free hand constantly gripped, soothed, or stretched my skin as his other continued with the needles. Every so often, those hazel eyes would glance into mine, one moment filled with lust, and in the next checking to make sure I was okay, not needing a break, and then the next seeking approval for his work.

  I hadn’t given much thought to other tattoos beyond this one, but Connor was right. This was an experience I wanted to repeat.

  He had finished the field and was starting some of the outlines of the sparse details in the sky, most of which would be done with color.

  The plan had been to finish the entire thing in one session. But we’d already been at it a couple of hours, and I knew the color would take twice as long. Connor had wanted to just do the outline and save the color work for another day, but I’d insisted. Turned out, he was right, just not for the reasons he’d given of my body needing a break and not wanting to inflict too much trauma on my arm at one time.

  Connor placed the tattoo gun back on the table, squirted the bottle of Green Soap over the fresh work and swiped over it with a paper towel. “The outline’s finished. What do you think?” As he spoke, he sat straighter, the planes of his muscled chest stretching out, and the change of his position showing some of his rippling abs above the workstation.

  “I think I’m making a new rule. You’re no longer allowed to wear clothes.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “That might get a little awkward.”

  I shrugged. “On the contrary, I’m pretty certain it would make the world a much better place. It might even bring on world peace. Everyone would be too distracted by staring at you.”

  He tapped my forearm. “The tattoo, Micah.”

  I spared it a glance. It was beautiful. Perfect, gorgeous, stunning. Actually, I had no idea. As I glanced down, Connor swiveled on the stool at just that moment and it caused his partially erect cock to sway. “I’m sorry, there’s a tattoo?” I reached under the tray and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. At my touch, he hardened further.

  He started to roll back. “Micah, I thought we covered this. You touch me there again, and I’m not going to give a shit about the color. You’re going to be offering payments before I’m completely finished.”

  I squeezed my grip around him, not letting him roll back any farther. “Fine by me. Your work is extraordinary. I’ll pay in full twice, once now and then whenever we get back to doing the color.”

  His gaze left mine and focused on my erection, which I gave a tentative stroke, then back at me. “You’re okay if we don’t finish tonight?”

  “As long as you get in my ass, yeah.”

  His dick twitched in my grip. “Good.” He reached for the soap once more. “Let me get you cleaned and wrapped up—”

  “Later.” I tugged on him again, swiped my thumb over his slickness, eliciting a shudder. “Fuck me now.”

  Connor hesitated, glancing back at my forearm. “I really should—”

  I gave another yank. “The customer’s always right. Remember?” Reaching down once more, I gave my cock another stroke and lifted my leg slightly, resting it on the slope of the chair. “And I’m done waiting. So you can choose. You can clean my arm and watch me jack off, at which point I’m sure I’ll want to fall right to sleep and you’ll be left with blue balls. Or, you can do what I asked, fuck me, and depending on how well you do, I might just throw in a tip.”

  Though his gaze was heated, he chuckled. “I think it’s going to be you who’s getting the tip.” He gave an intentional twitch of his dick at his words.

  I let go of him with a laugh. “I’d better be getting a hell of a lot more than just the tip.”

  Connor pushed the rolling tray away and kicked the stool with his foot. Harder than he’d probably meant to, and it rolled a few feet and fell over. He didn’t look back at it. “You know, you’ve been a little bossy during your session.”

  “I’m a demanding client, what can I say?” I waggled my cock at him again.

  Connor swatted my hand away. “Well, your session for the day is over. You’re no longer the client. You’re in my shop. Which means, my rules.”

  “I’m not actually sure that’s how it works. Payment hasn’t actually happened yet.”

  “I’m not asking. My shop. My rules.” His eyes twinkled in enjoyment, and maybe a bit of danger. I expected Connor to touch me. To kiss me, to take me into his mouth once more. Instead, he walked toward the end of the chair, which was the equivalent of one of those reclining dentist contraptions and up to this point had only been equated with pain in my mind. He straddled the lower portion of the chair. “Lift your legs.”

  I hesitated.

  His eyes flashed at me, pure heat and lust. “I said lift your legs. Like you did on the teacher’s desk.”

  I did, and though it was easier than on the desk, it felt a little strange as well.

  “Grab the back of your knees and pull yourself up. Show me your hole.”

  I followed that direction as well, and with the recline of the chair, the new position made it even easier to sustain my hold.

  Connor stepped closer, still straddling the chair, and from this stance, his erection was even with my entrance. He gripped his dick and slapped it against my hole a couple of times. Then lined it up, and shoved in.

  I cried out, half in pain, half in pleasure. I pulled back on my legs, giving him even more room.

  His eyes met mine again, and his tone left no room for argument. “That’s just the tip.” He gave a little thrust, not much, just enough to slide a touch farther in, and despite how many times he’d fucked me, how used to his girth my body was, his intrusion stung. “You want more?”

  I nodded, desperately. Tried to say something, but the words just came out as a wheeze.

  Connor grinned, looking cocky. Which I loved. “Seems I might be a little too much for you right now.”

  I shook my head and actually managed words that time. “No. Fuck me. Fuck me now. I don’t care if it hurts.”

  “I thought we talked about this. I’m the one in charge.” He pushed in a touch farther, cocked an eyebrow, and then yanked himself out, making me cry out again. “It seems that as talented as your ass is, it’s not quite ready.”

  He lowered himself, straddling the downward slope of the chair and leaning forward, his breath hot against my hole. “Pull your legs back more, Micah. Let me see you.”

  I did. Feeling slightly exposed, even though he’d seen every inch of me countless times. I sucked in a breath when his tongue shoved inside of me with no warning. No tentative or teasing lick. My body responded, my hands pulling my legs back so my knees touched my chest. I knew I looked completely desperate for him. I didn’t care. It wasn’t like it had ever been a secret between us. I was desperate for him. I would always be desperate for him. I gave into it, closing my eyes and losing myself as he tongue-fucked me.

  After having Connor’s hands on me for hours as he’d worked on the tattoo, every nerve of my body seemed to be on fire. Every swipe of his tongue sent another shot of flame through my blood. The scrape of his trimmed beard across my inner thighs made me suck in a breath. The stinging and rawness from the fresh tattoo on my arm only added to the sensation overload.

  Connor withdrew his tongue, and bit, lightly, at the skin of my ass, licked against the hole, and then gave a playful nip there as well, making me cry out yet again.

  “Oh fuck! Holy fuck. Connor. Fuck. Fuck.” It was too much. I wasn’t going to last. I wouldn’t get to have him inside of me. “Stop. I’m going to come. Stop.”

  He pulled back, leaving my hole empty and desperate. I opened my eyes to see him. Connor stood, still straddling the chair, and moved his hips up to mine again. Once more he smacked my entrance with his cock, and grinned down at my erection, which was streaming with precome and twitching. He grinned up at me. “Looks like you’re ready for a bit more than my tip.”

  “God yes.” Holy shit, even I coul
dn’t deny how desperate I sounded. Almost embarrassingly so. There was nothing Connor could say that I wouldn’t do in that moment. Not that there ever was. Maybe that was pathetic. Maybe so. I didn’t give one solitary fuck. My heart was his. It had always been his. The same with my body. He could do anything he damn well wanted.

  And he knew it.

  He lined himself up once more and pushed forward enough that I could feel the pressure of him, just on the edge of sliding into me. He kept his gaze fixed on mine. “No matter what happens, Micah, you keep hold of your legs. You’re not allowed to touch your cock.”

  I just stared at him, panting.

  “Understand?”

  I managed half a nod, and then he shoved in, all the way. I wanted to see him, but on instinct slammed my eyes shut at the intrusion. Though his tongue had prepared my entrance, Connor didn’t offer the same consideration for his thickness. Without pause to let me adjust, he withdrew, and then plunged back in. One of my hands slipped.

  “Keep holding your legs, Micah.” He shoved in again, so hard that his heavy balls smacked against my ass. “Look at me.”

  I readjusted my grip and forced my eyes open, but the second I saw him, it was no longer a struggle. He was too stunning to miss.

  With the way I was holding my legs, he needed no more assistance, so his hands were free. Without touching me, he fucked, pistoning his hips, jacking into me over and over, each time with a loud smack of our bodies coming together. His hands roamed over his body, giving me a show, his fingers tracing his abs and then moving up to his chest. “I love how hot your ass is, Micah. How it milks my cock. How it begs for my load.” He flicked his nipple, and then began to pinch it, his grin growing. “Do you want my load, Micah?”

  Again, there was no way words were coming out of me. But I managed a groan and nodded.

  Sweat trailed over his body, running down his chest and over his stomach. Never losing his driving rhythm into my ass, he lifted his other hand and began to tweak his other nipple, his words guttural and broken by his heavy breathing. “You sure you want this big load? Can you take it all?”

  I’d only seen hints of this sort of dominance from him before, and I’d always loved it. But it had been nothing compared to how hot he was in that moment. Watching him pleasure himself as he fucked me. Bragging about his load. Knowing that I needed it, wanted it. “Fuck yes, Connor give me your load. Fill me up. Empty into me.”

  “Show me how much you want it.” He began to tremble. “Show me, Micah. Show me you want my load deep.” His pounding increased, nearly more than I could handle. “Come for me. Shoot for me. Show me how much you want me.”

  I’d barely been hanging on to my orgasm, not wanting it to end. But the sound of him smacking against me, the rawness of his thick cock nearly ripping me open, and the guttural growl of his demands sent me over the edge. Yanking back on my knees even harder, I gave him that much more space, and he took it. His cock driving into me deeper and deeper.

  I came. With such force the pleasure was nearly lost. With such force my scream sounded more like pain.

  “Fuck yes!” All control in Connor’s voice had left. And the volume of his curses surpassed my own. “Fuck! Yes, yes! You’re mine, Micah. Take this load. Take my load!” He threw his head back, and his body arched like he was riding a bull, and he buried himself deep as he came. He came so hard I could feel the explosion. Feel as his cock thickened even further. Then he thrust again. And then again. Emptying into me, claiming me with every ounce of his body.

  We managed to contain our lust long enough for him to clean and wrap the tattoo, then made it up to his bedroom before we fucked again. After cooking and devouring a frozen pizza, we tumbled back into bed, and Connor took his rightful place in the crook of my arm.

  “Can I take this thing off yet?”

  He chuckled, his breath warm against the bare skin of my chest. “You’re as bad as a five-year-old. You’re asking every ten minutes how much longer. So, considering that, you only have to wait another fifty minutes instead of the hour it was ten minutes ago.”

  I lifted my cling-wrapped arm, twisting it in the dim light of the bedroom. The design was partially visible, but smeared with ink and blood. Now that my hormones had been satiated, I truly could appreciate how beautiful it was going to be. Even in its concealed condition, it was clearly a masterpiece. “I love it.”

  Connor repositioned slightly, allowing himself to look at it. “It was a good concept, Micah. And it’s gonna look even better with color. We’ll let it heal for a couple of weeks and then get back to work.” He settled against my chest.

  “I’m in no rush. If every session is like tonight’s, I’m okay if we never end.”

  “Me too. But with Moses back, I don’t know how that will play out.” To my surprise, he didn’t sound stressed at that notion.

  “Maybe we can make Uncle Gilbert and Uncle Walden a monthly occurrence.”

  Connor snorted. “I know Gilbert says it’s different with Moses, since he’s not a kid, but I think that might be pushing our luck.”

  Probably so. I didn’t reply and began to trace my finger over the tattoos along Connor’s shoulder and triceps. He sighed contentedly. Couldn’t believe this was finally real life. Or at least was soon going to be real life. We knew there’d be an adjustment. For us as well as the family once everyone knew, but it was so close I could taste it. The ease between Connor and me with the big reveal was calming. Not quite what I’d expected. I figured the closer we got, the more stressed he would be. But it seemed we were finally settled. After years of doubts and fears and secrets, it was time to be us. The real us.

  Several more minutes passed, and Connor’s breathing shifted. I realized he’d fallen asleep. I considered sliding free and going to unwrap the tattoo and clean it up. But this was too perfect. I had heaven in my arms; why would I leave?

  After a little while, I joined him, drifting off into a happy, dreamless sleep.

  When I awoke to voices, I had the sense not much time had passed, but I struggled to gather my bearings. Beside me, Connor shifted in his sleep, pulling me closer.

  I blinked, and just as things began to make sense, two shadowy forms stood in the open doorway of the bedroom.

  “What the fuck?” Gilbert’s voice had an edge of horror to it that I had never heard before.

  At the sound, Connor shifted, mumbled something, and then sat straight up in bed. “Gilbert.”

  The silhouetted figure beside Gilbert made a noise, a mix between an intake of breath, a whimper, and a gasp of pain.

  At the sound, Connor started to slip from the bed, the covers falling off his hips. He pulled the sheet over himself, nearly ripping it off me, but I managed to grab the edge in time.

  “Moses. I can explain.” Panic filled Connor’s voice.

  Moses just shook his head, whirled around, and a second later the front door slammed.

  With my eyes adjusting to the dark, I met my brother’s gaze. Gilbert looked from me, to Connor, back to me, and then Connor again. “What the actual fuck, dude?” Any shock he’d felt, clearly giving way to anger.

  I spared a quick glance at Connor, saw the horror and guilt wash over his face, and an unexpected fury coursed through me. “Don’t sound like that, Gilbert. Like you have any room to judge anyone.” Because that approach was going to be helpful.

  Gilbert didn’t even look at me. Didn’t seem as if he heard my words or cared. His own fury surpassed my own, and it laced every syllable he spoke. “You’re my brother. Were my brother. Connor, man, how the fuck?” He smacked the wall and took a step toward the bed, his fists clenched. “How the actual fuck could you—”

  “Gilbert. I’m sorry.” The panicked tone in Connor’s words had given way to emotions I was so familiar with hearing from him. The sound nearly gutted me. Guilt and shame.

  Gilbert opened his mouth and then shook his head. Spitting out some snarled curse, he glared at me, whirled around, and followed Moses out of the
apartment.

  Connor started to head across the room, the sheet forgotten.

  I sprang from the bed and grabbed his arm. “Wait, just wait.”

  He started to shove me off. “I’ve gotta talk to them. We can fix this.”

  I didn’t let go. “Not right now. Right now we can’t fix this. Give them space. If we try now, something will get said, something will happen, something that someone can’t take back.”

  He hesitated and then looked back at me, his shoulders slumping. He nodded. And again, I could see the shame wash over him. Like it had countless times before. Connor gestured with his head toward the restroom. “Come on. Let’s unwrap your arm and clean the tattoo.”

  Like I cared about the tattoo.

  We’d been so close. So goddamn close.

  Eighteen

  Connor

  “What do you mean you’re not going to go get him? He’s your kid now. You have custody.”

  I could almost see Gilbert’s expression through the phone. It likely matched Micah’s, who gaped at me. Though Micah had only heard my side of the conversation, he clearly understood what had happened.

  “You think I don’t want to, Gilbert? That I don’t want to drive straight to Russell’s and beat down the door and take Moses back?” I did my best to keep my anger at bay.

  “I don’t know what you want right now. I’m not even sure I know who you are.” Gilbert’s words stung, but he had every right to feel the way he did.

  “I do. It’s taking every ounce of power I have to sit here and not rush to get him.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Micah reached over and grabbed my knee.

  I shook my head, and though I met Micah’s gaze in the moonlight in my living room, I spoke to both of them. “You two can’t understand what he’s thinking. You were never a part of it. Seeing what he saw….” I took a steadying breath. “It confirmed everything he’d been taught about me. And if what the Clarks told him about me is true, then he’ll feel it’s true about him.”