Claimed: The Complete Short Romance Series

by Nichole Rose

  "I was skimming through the book last night and saw this line," he says, reaching out to tap the page right above it. "It's you, angel baby. You may be tiny, but you're more than equal to anyone you meet. You're as fierce as a queen when something matters to you. You can do anything. If they don't see that, fuck them."

  "It's perfect, Asher," I whisper, stroking my finger over the sketch. The simplicity of the crown contrasts with the elegant script, adding an unexpected layer to the piece, tying it together. "I love it."

  "Do you want it?"

  "You want to put it on me?" I ask…not sure why I'm surprised.

  "Only if you want it," he says.

  "Where?"

  "Depends on if you want people to see it or if you want it to be our little secret," he says, reaching for my hand. He flips my arm over. "I can put it right here." He rubs his thumb over my wrist and then releases me to tug my shirt up. He tugs my pants down a couple of inches, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. "Or right here," he says, running his finger a couple of inches above my hipbone.

  "The wrist," I decide instantly. "I want something else there."

  "What?"

  "Not telling." I grin at him. "But when I'm ready, I'll let you put it on me."

  He meets my gaze, something dark and wholly wicked in his gray eyes. He swallows hard and nods.

  The tattoo doesn't take long, but by the time he's finished, we're both shaking. He doesn't try to convince me to tell him what I have in mind for the other spot. Having his hands on me for any length of time, even just on my arm, leaves me aching with need.

  He's a conundrum, so hard on the outside, yet so soft beneath the surface. There are depths to him you'd never expect just by looking at him. He wears his tattoos like armor, I think, carefully masking his vulnerabilities beneath the things that helped to shape and form them.

  When he touches me, I feel both sides of him. The fierce man who wants to dominate and possess, and the gentle lover who wants to worship and adore. They both make me burn hotter than the sun. They both make my heart go wild with love for him.

  He wraps the tattoo carefully, and then instructs me on how to take care of it. I have a feeling I won't be needing those instructions though. I can already tell by the look in his eye that he plans to be the one to take care of it for me.

  I don't mind. He's taught me something I never expected to learn about myself. Something I didn't know was even possible. You can be independent and still be a little bit submissive. You can forge your own path and blaze your own trail, but still want to be cared for and protected. I don't have to do everything on my own to be my own person. I don't have to change for the world or pretend I'm anything more or less than I am.

  I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart.

  He looks at me and sees the independent, ambitious woman, the one with hopes and dreams and goals and the ability to stand up for herself. It doesn't matter if the rest of the world sees it. He does. He sees it…and he loves it.

  It's not lost on me how completely opposite we are. Nor is it lost on me how much beauty there is in contrast. Light and dark, hard and soft, yin and yang. They work best together. I have a feeling Asher and I work better together too. We fit because we were made for one another.

  He's crazy…but I am too. For him. Only ever for him.

  "I love it, Asher," I murmur, running my hand down the side of his cheek after he has my tattoo all wrapped up and ready to go.

  He lifts his eyes to me and smiles. The whole world stares back from those mysterious gray depths. No, gray isn't a dull, boring color. It's the color of love, of light and dark all mixed up together. He's a little bit heaven and a little bit hell. And he's all mine.

  "I want you," I whisper as he strips his gloves off and tosses them in the trash.

  He rises like the sun, slowly, completely eclipsing everything else.

  "You have me."

  "Make love to me, Asher," I demand, not ashamed to tell him what I want. With him, I could never feel shame. He wouldn't let me.

  He swallows hard and holds his hand out to me. "Come with me," he says.

  I take his hand. Of course I do.

  Instead of going out the way we came in, he leads me through another door and then up a flight of stairs. I never questioned before where he lived, but when he unlocks the door upstairs, I realize he lives here, above Crimson Ink. He didn't have a home, so he built his own right here.

  More of his art hangs in frames on the walls, lending color to the monochromatic living room. The walls are all white, the furniture black. The end tables are silver. A thick gray rug stretches across the floor. The art is the focal point, drawing my eye again and again as we pass through the room on the way to his bedroom.

  Art hangs all along the hallway as well. I can't wait to examine each piece. I know they all mean something to him. His art is personal, just like his tattoos. The thought of uncovering the story behind each piece is exciting to me. He's like a book. The longer you read, the more you uncover. His story is so damn fascinating.

  "I love your room," I murmur. Like the living room, it's in monochromatic shades. The only art is a massive abstract triptych hanging above his big bed. Reds, blues, pinks, and purples are all swirled together. It looks like the universe.

  Asher grunts and then pulls me into his arms. "It's a helluva lot nicer with you standing in the middle of it, Kennedy."

  I love the things he says to me. They aren't cheesy lines or innocent flirtation. He says exactly what he thinks. I never have to question if he's being serious or not. I know he is.

  He bends toward me, tracking kisses down the side of my face. "Knowing you're wearing my art has my cock so hard I can't think," he mutters into my skin, his hands questing all over my body. "Never knew giving a wrist tattoo could be such a turn on."

  "Me neither," I whisper, running my hands up his stomach. His whole body is a work of art. Not just the tattoos, but him. He's sculpted from marble, each muscle chiseled perfection. I slip my hand beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling bold and daring and a little bit naughty.

  "Kennedy," he growls when I scratch my nails across his abs.

  "What? You don't like it?" I do it again, testing him.

  He growls and grabs my hand, raking it down his body and then pressing it over his cock. "Does that feel to you like I don't like it, angel baby?" he asks, and then throws his head back and fires a round of curses up at the ceiling as I squeeze him.

  "You're so hard."

  His agonized chuckle is way too hot. "Believe me, I know, angel. Been that way since I saw you at the rehearsal dinner. I was mad as hell you left."

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to leave you hanging to do your part, but I had a class."

  He tilts his head forward to look at me. "That's why you think I was mad?"

  I shrug.

  He shakes his head and then pries my hand off him. "That's not it, angel baby."

  "Oh." I frown. "Then why?"

  "What were you thinking about?" he asks, tugging my shirt up and then pulling it off over my head. He does so carefully to avoid bumping my tattoo. It doesn't really hurt though. It feels a little like I touched a hot surface for a split second. He says that's because the inner wrist is one of the least painful places to get a tattoo. "When you looked at me, I mean."

  "What was I–?" I frown, trying to remember. "I was wondering what story your eyes were trying to tell me," I say, thinking back to the moment I looked up and saw him standing there. "There was so much hiding in them."

  "That's why," he growls, yanking me back into his arms. His mouth comes down on mine, his kiss hard and hot. He palms my ass through my jeans, squeezing my cheeks. "I looked at you and saw my future staring back at me. I wanted to know what you were thinking about so badly it drove me crazy."

  My response gets lost as he backs me toward his bed, kissing me the whole time. He loses clothes along the way, shedding them like skin. His shoes and socks and pants litter the path we t
ake. By the time he pushes me gently backward onto his bed, his shirt and my bra have joined the pile.

  "Asher!" I gasp, arching upward when he covers one breast with his palm and the other with his mouth. He draws hard at my nipple and I feel it deep inside my core. My clit pulses as if the two are connected.

  He plays with them until I'm writhing beneath him, lost to pleasure.

  He pulls back to kiss a trail down my body. He leaves little love bites along the way, as if they're the clothing he shed on our path across the floor. Somehow, he seems to know every sensitive spot on my body. He seeks every one of them out, teasing me with little bites that have me breaking a sweat.

  He's implacable, full of some energy I have no name for, no experience with. It's…sexy as hell. He is sexy as hell. All hot and hard and wicked. By the time he works his way down my body, I'm on the verge of an orgasm. He carefully removes my pants before tossing them over the side of the bed. Once they're gone, he sits back on his heels. His eyes rake like fire up and down my body.

  "Jesus Christ, Kennedy," he says, breathing hard. "You're a knockout."

  I blush at his compliment and the awe in his tone. He makes me feel beautiful, sexy in a way I never have before. No one has ever looked at me like they want to worship and devour me at the same time, not the way he does.

  I love it.

  He slips his hand between my legs, touching me through my panties. I gasp and arch upward, shocked at how good it feels.

  "Soaked," he growls, prying my legs apart. He watches what he's doing to me, fixating on me as if the sight of his hand rubbing me through my panties is fascinating to him. He plays with me like I'm a toy, touching every part of me, teasing me mercilessly.

  My panties cling to my sex, soaked through as he drives me higher and higher and then somehow higher. And then his hand comes down on me in a smack.

  "Asher!" I cry out, jolting upward in a curious mix of shock and pleasure. It doesn't hurt. It feels…incredible.

  He does it again and then again before he growls and rips my panties down my legs. He's between them faster than I thought possible. He runs his mouth up the inside of my right thigh and then down the inside of my left, teasing me again.

  My heart races, thundering like a thousand hooves pounding across the ground. My face flames when he uses two fingers to part my lower lips. A big part of me wants to slam my legs closed to hide from his gaze. Another part thrills at the way his nostrils flare and a loud growl rips from his lips.

  He dips his head, his tongue swiping through my folds.

  I cry his name and cling to the sheets as a shock of pleasure rolls through me.

  "Fucking hell," he groans. His hands sink into my bottom, dragging me closer to his mouth. And dear God…that filthy, delightful mouth.

  I think I stop breathing as he eats me. He's loud and messy and rough, pulling me closer to him, digging his fingers into my bottom to keep me where he wants me. He snarls and growls like a starving animal.

  "Just like fucking peaches," he growls, lifting his head for a brief moment to look at me. The heat glittering in his eyes…oh Lord, he's feral with lust and so damn sexy.

  My core clenches.

  He dips his head again, attacking my center. He bites and licks, uses his tongue ring against my clit until I'm on the verge of hyperventilating. Loud cries echo around the room, but I can't seem to stop them. My body belongs to him now. He commands it.

  "Goddamn, I can barely fit in this tiny thing," he curses, trying to work two fingers inside me. He nips at my inner thigh, all impatient and grumpy about it, and then immediately goes back to playing with my clit. When he finally gets his fingers inside me, he growls his triumph.

  He touches some spot inside me.

  "Asher!"

  "You like that?" He doesn't give me a chance to answer. He does it again, setting the tip of his tongue against my clit and jiggling it at the same time.

  I wail as an orgasm tears through me, leaving me stunned. It decimates me, shattering me into tiny little pieces of pleasure. I shake beneath him, trying to ride it out. He touches that place inside me again and sends me catapulting skyward before I even have a chance to come back down.

  I finally fall limp beneath him, sucking air into my lungs as if I'm starving for oxygen.

  He prowls up my body and hovers over me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Can't wait to feel that on my cock, Kennedy," he says, yanking his boxers down. "You screamed my name and I almost came all over myself."

  "Asher," I gasp, staring at his penis. He's long and thick enough to make me squirm, wondering how he's possibly going to fit inside me. But the part that shocks me is the silver barbell piercing the broad head of his erection. It glistens where precum has dripped down it, wetting it. "It's pierced."

  "Obviously," he teases, chuckling. He grips himself in his fist, stroking along his length. "It's called an apadravya. You'll love it, angel baby."

  "I…did it hurt?"

  "Like a motherfucker."

  "Then why…?"

  He grins at me. "You'll see." He hitches my leg around his hip and then freezes, lifting his head to meet my gaze again. "Are you on birth control?"

  "Yes."

  "I know this if your first time, angel baby. I'll get a condom if you want me to," he says. "I haven't been with anyone in years and I've always worn a condom, but I don't want to wear one with you. I want to feel you."

  "Don't," I whisper, knowing it's risky. Not because I don't trust him—I do. But birth control can fail. I'm still in college. Having babies now would be a lot to take on. Part of me wants them anyway. I think part of him does too. I see the truth lurking in his eyes, the little gleam that says the thought of getting me pregnant turns him on.

  "I'll be gentle with you the first time," he promises, lining himself up at my entrance. He runs the head of his cock around my entrance, teasing me again. He's always teasing me, trying to make me crazy. I think he gets off on what he does to me and how easily he does it.

  Little by little, he pushes inside me.

  "Fucking hell," he growls when he finally gets the head of his cock inside me. "It's going to take years to loosen this little thing up, Kennedy. You're so tight."

  "Asher," I sob, writhing beneath him. It hurts and doesn't hurt at the same time. I feel stretched and already full. I dig my nails into his back, tilting my head back.

  He seeks my mouth with his. His tongue touches my lip, demanding entry. As soon as I give it to him, he thrusts inside me. My hymen tears, making both of us cry out. He goes completely still as I sob his name. It hurts like hell, way worse than the tattoo. Tears leak from my eyes as the pain works its way through me, setting me on fire.

  "I love you, angel baby," he growls, his tone gentle and so full of love, it sends more tears trickling down my cheeks. "So fucking much, it's unreal."

  "I l-love you too," I cry, clinging to him, writhing in agony and delight.

  "Breathe for me, sweetheart," he says, kissing away my tears. "It'll stop hurting in a second, I promise. You just gotta keep breathing through it."

  I suck in a deep breath and let it out on a sob.

  He tracks kisses down my cheeks and then nibbles at my lips before taking my mouth in a deep kiss. It's possessive and adoring at the same time. I taste myself on him, the salt of my tears mixed with the taste of my orgasm.

  We kiss for what feels like forever. Eventually, the pain fades, replaced with pleasure as his kiss sends me climbing back toward the ledge he tipped me over earlier.

  When I relax beneath him, retracting my nails from his skin, his hips surge forward an inch.

  I cry out in pleasure this time.

  He surges forward again, impaling me on him. When he's all the way inside, his head kicks back. "Oh fuck…yes!" he roars into the room.

  It's the single most erotic sound I've ever heard, so full of pleasure it makes me dizzy with power. I made him feel that way.

  "You okay, angel baby?" he asks, che
cking on me.

  My heart overflows with love for him. Even in the throes of his pleasure, he's worried about me, thinking about me.

  "More, Asher," I demand.

  "More?"

  I nod.

  His mouth meets mine again as he begins to move. He kisses me sweetly even as he snaps his hips back and then thrusts forward. He moves like a storm inside me, surging forward, striking deep. My head lolls on the pillow. I grip him tighter, trying to pull him closer, make him go deeper.

  It feels like heaven is alive inside me, dancing and spinning and twisting beneath my skin and through my veins.

  He growls against my mouth and goes harder, pounding inside me. The bed rocks beneath me, creaking with each hard thrust. He's right about the piercing. I feel it dragging along my inner walls and I love it.

  Wordless sobs pour from my throat, spilling out into the room around us.

  He's everywhere, kissing every inch of me he can reach. His mouth tracks down my shoulder. His tongue dances across my collarbone. He leaves fresh marks on my breasts. Little groans leave his lips as he worships me with his hands, mouth, and body, claiming me all the way down to my soul.

  He's my conundrum again, the perfect mix of hard and soft.

  He takes me hard and loves me gently at the same time, leaving me gasping beneath him.

  "Kennedy," he groans. "Being inside you is heaven, angel baby."

  My hands sweep down his back, gripping onto his firm ass as the coil inside my belly tightens. I can't focus on any one sensation before another, equally as powerful, swarms through me. It's too much and not enough at the same time. I lift my hips to meet his, writhe beneath him.

  He tilts his hips. His piercing drags across that same spot he found earlier.

  I cry out, coming hard. It tears through me like a savage wind, leaving me sobbing in helpless pleasure. Waves of it wrack my body, curling my toes, arching my back. Completely unmaking me down to the tiniest quark.

  Asher bellows my name, his hips slamming into mine without rhythm. He cries out again, and I feel his erection jerk inside me as he comes too. My inner muscles clench around him, demanding everything he has. He moans above me, his fingers digging into my hips as he gives it to me, spilling into me until we're both a sticky, ruined mess.