Beg For You (Rocktown Ink #1)

by Sherilee Gray

My breathing grew ragged.

  His hand came back up to the side of my neck, then slid down to my shoulder. “Or maybe something on your other shoulder?”

  I nodded, desperately trying to hide the way my body trembled. “Yes, I like that idea.”

  He dropped his hand and stepped back…and waited.

  Something about the look in his eyes, almost like a challenge, like he didn’t believe I’d do it, bolstered me. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to prove myself to this man, show him that I wasn’t the stuck-up rich girl he thought I was. I didn’t want him to see me that way. Not him. So I lifted my hands and undid my shirt buttons. The emerald green silk slipped through my fingers, this time without hesitation or embarrassment. Cal had seen me, the ugly, the shame I carried around with me every day. Even if he didn’t know what caused that shame, he’d seen it, and he hadn’t flinched away.

  My bra was black lace, sexy. I liked sexy lingerie. It made me feel good. When I stood in front of the mirror and angled my body just right, I couldn’t see the scars. I was Cassy. The woman I was meant to be.

  I wasn’t looking at him, but I heard his rough exhale. It emboldened me, and before I could think about what I was doing, or why, I reached back and unhooked my bra as well, let it drop down my arms, and placed it with my shirt.

  He didn’t move.

  I glanced back up at him. “I’m ready.”

  He stood, legs braced apart, hands down at his sides, fingers curled into fists.

  His nostrils flared. “Sit down, Cassandra.”

  A pulse started up between my thighs, deep and insistent. I did as he said instantly, not ashamed to admit I wanted him to bark other orders at me—dirty ones. The thought had my nipples tightening almost painfully. It only got worse when I straddled his chair and leaned forward, my chest hitting cold leather.

  He was quiet for what felt like forever, then finally his stool squeaked, and I could hear his rough breaths getting louder as he rolled closer, so close his inner thighs bracketed the outside of mine. I shivered and did something I never would have had the nerve to do a week ago. I spread mine wider so I could feel more of him.

  He growled softly, and I felt his fingers graze my neck as he slid my hair, which was down, over my shoulder and out of the way. My heart was pounding like a frightened rabbit, my body hot and achy. For a second, I thought he might kiss my neck. God, I wanted him to. What was happening to me?

  “You know what you want?”

  “I don’t care,” I whispered.

  “Cassandra…I don’t think—”

  “Don’t say no, please. Just do something small, something that will work with the other piece you’re doing for me.”

  For a minute, I didn’t think he’d do it. I thought he’d tell me to go home, that I was acting crazy, but then I felt a cool, wet sensation across my skin. I shivered as he cleaned a section behind my right shoulder and at the sound of him putting on latex gloves. Then a buzzing sound filled the room—the tattoo machine starting up.

  Relief washed through me when I felt that needle move over my skin. But I didn’t zone out like I did last time. I couldn’t. I was far too aware of him. How close he sat behind me. The heat of his breath tickling my bare skin. Every now and again the muscles in his thighs jumped or tightened against mine.

  Time ticked on and by the time he stopped, my senses were in overload. I was pain and pleasure all rolled into one. Nothing more. Perched on the edge, desperate to fly.

  Cal wiped me down and I shivered. My skin was on fire, sensitive. He’d somehow gotten closer, and when I felt the hard, hot length of him through his jeans graze against my bottom, I moaned softly. I couldn’t stop myself.

  He leaned in, his breath tickling my ear. “You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he said roughly.

  I wanted him to touch me, so bad I ached. “I don’t play,” I said into the silence, words similar to the ones I’d said to Spencer earlier that night. God, I didn’t want to think about him. “Ever.”

  “No?” he growled.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m not one of your rich assholes. I’m not polite. I’m not gentle. I won’t take you out to dinner or hold your hand. Something brought you here tonight, something upset you. I should care, but I don’t because I’m not a good guy, Cassandra. You want something from me, I’ll give it to you, and I won’t feel any remorse when I bend you over, shove down your designer pants, and bury my face between your thighs like the animal I am and make you scream.” One of his hands slid to my waist, bare skin to bare skin. My eyes drifted shut from that simple touch. I was wet, hot, more turned on than I could ever remember being.

  “Cal…”

  “I’m not good, Princess. I’m not decent, and I make no apologies for it.”

  “I…I don’t want someone to hold my hand.” I swallowed hard around the lust that had tightened my vocal cords, that had my heart pounding harder, faster. “I don’t want polite, and I…I sure as hell don’t want gentle.”

  Chapter Five

  Cal

  Of course she didn’t want gentle.

  Cassandra wanted the monster. She wanted rough and she wanted dirty. That’s what every woman I fucked wanted from me. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Cassy was no different, but for some reason it did.

  She would let me fuck her. Right there. Right then. She’d let me do whatever the hell I wanted and beg for more. I’d told her I wasn’t a good guy. I’d warned her. I’d given her a chance to walk, and she chose to stay.

  Something had sent her running here. I had no idea why she’d chosen to come to me, but she’d just given me the opening I needed, and as much as I wanted to sink inside her and work off all the pent-up aggression and frustration and lust she made me feel, I wasn’t going to. Not yet. Though it might kill me, since I was so fucking hard I could barely see straight.

  But I had to play this carefully. If I took things too far, too fast, I might never see her again. She could walk out of there, find someone else to finish her ink, and never come back. If I turned her down, I risked the same. Not that I was capable of turning her down, not after seeing those perfect creamy tits, full and succulent, those tight cherry nipples begging to be sucked, and not after what she’d just said.

  “I don’t want polite, and I…I sure as hell don’t want gentle.”

  If Cassy wanted a walk on the wild side, I was the man to give it to her. I’d give her what none of those uptight suit-wearing assholes ever had. I’d leave her begging for more.

  And when I was done, I’d make sure she and her father knew exactly who had been fucking with her—and why.

  My stool creaked as I leaned closer, dragging in a lungful of her scent. She smelled delicate, like rose petals. My dick pulsed harder. “You talk tough, Princess, but do you have any idea what you’re asking for?”

  She shivered, the pulse at the side of her neck fluttering faster under her skin. “Why…why don’t you show me?”

  Fuck.

  That little stumbled stutter, or whatever the fuck it was, spoke volumes. She was hot, but she was scared. The twisted, sick asshole inside me got off on it. On the power that made me feel, when her family had made me feel so damn powerless for so long.

  I let my cock press against her tight ass and finished cleaning her skin nice and slow. She shivered again. I hadn’t answered her, and I wasn’t going to, not yet, letting her wonder what was coming next, like the sadistic fuck I was around her.

  I looked down at the rosebud I’d tattooed on the flawless skin of her right shoulder. Delicate, beautiful…and closed up tight.

  Not for long, though. By the time I was finished with her, there’d be nothing she could hide from me. “You wanna see what I did?”

  She nodded.

  I got up and wheeled the larger mirror I had in front of her. I could feel her eyes on me the whole time. Cassandra was confused, off balance. Turned the fuck on. I liked her that way.

  I took my stool behind her again
and held up a smaller mirror so she could see. I watched as her lips parted, her little pink tongue darting out and sliding along the lower one.

  Yeah, I felt that, like she’d just lapped at the head of my cock.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

  I put the small mirror down, quickly applied some ointment, covered her new ink, and then met her eyes in the larger one in front of us. “Sit up straight for me.”

  She blinked, her eyes almost fucking guileless. But when they met mine, the confusion vanished.

  That’s right, Princess. I want to see your tits.

  She did as I asked, breathing harder. I could tell by the way her shoulders rose and fell. I wanted to see the way those gorgeous tits swayed with each one of those nervous, excited breaths. Wanted to see if those sweet, rosy nipples were even tighter now.

  The back of the seat she was straddling was adjustable, so I reached around her, groaning low when her warm bare skin made contact with my arms, and unlatched the back, lifting the head and body rest free and removing them completely, putting them on the floor.

  Cassy sucked in a breath when she saw herself in the mirror in front of us. Silky, pale skin fucking glowing, flushed pink. Nipples like I knew they’d be, tight as fuck, darker.

  She stared at herself and I willed her to look up, to look at me. I didn’t want her walking out of there later, kidding herself about what had happened, convincing herself that she’d lost her head, that it could have been anyone touching her tonight. Because we both knew that was bullshit.

  She could have gone anywhere, picked up any asshole, but she chose to come here to me.

  I wanted to see it in her eyes.

  I refused to think too deeply why that mattered so much and shut that shit down.

  Her waist was tiny, and I slid my hands around it, getting off on her sharp inhale when my skin made contact with hers.

  Fuck yes. Her eyes shot up.

  There they were. I had them.

  For a split second I thought I saw panic, but then it shifted. It twisted and blended with so many other emotions I couldn’t look away. Not that I wanted to. Excitement, fear, heat—and a longing that if I thought too much about could make me second-guess myself.

  There was so much going on behind her blue eyes, so much I would never know—so much I didn’t want to know.

  Fuck that. That wasn’t what this was about. Cassy wanted to get off, and I wanted to make her father pay for the way he crushed my family.

  She was a grown woman. It was her choice to fuck around with a man she knew nothing about. There were no hearts and flowers here. No promises. No feelings to be injured. She’d be pissed when it blew up and her father found out she liked to take a walk on the wild side.

  It was her father who would feel it, not her.

  Cassy and I were using each other, plain and simple.

  I lifted my hands, sliding them higher. Her gaze darted down, watching their progress. Was she taking in the contrast of my dark rough skin against hers, all creamy, smooth, flawless?

  I looked up at her again. She was breathing so fast, so damn unsteadily, I paused.

  She whimpered. “Don’t…please, don’t stop.”

  Thank fuck. I didn’t think I could. This might have been about revenge, but, fuck, I wanted her.

  I looked at us in the mirror, the way my body was almost twice the size of hers, looming behind her, dark, rough, scarred. We were an extreme contrast. She was so petite, her frame delicate…clean. Day against night.

  We couldn’t have been more different. Her privilege showed in every part of her.

  I lifted my hands higher, cupped her perfect tits in my hands, and squeezed gently.

  Fuck me.

  She collapsed back against my chest, her hands dropping to my thighs either side of her, digging her perfectly manicured nails into me through my jeans.

  How many times had I fantasized about touching her like this when I was younger?

  My hands were big and covered her almost fully. I squeezed again, feeling their weight, the way her tight little nipples rested against my palms, then pressed my lips to her ear. “More?”

  She licked her lips. “Please.”

  Her response was breathy and sent tingles across my scalp. “You sensitive?” I rasped as I plucked those tight peaks.

  She moaned and nodded again, biting her lip, her fingers digging deeper into my thighs.

  Jesus, she was responsive. I was amped so damn high I had no idea how I hadn’t already fucked her on the floor. “You wet, Princess?” I tugged her nipples gently and she cried out.

  “Yes…yes, I’m wet.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. “I’m going to make you come, right here, and you’re going to watch yourself. You’re not going to look away, understand?”

  She nodded again.

  “Say it,” I growled out.

  “I—I’m going to watch,” she said through her panted breaths.

  I dropped one hand to the waistband of her pants and tugged the button open then slid down the zipper. Her panties were black lace, matching her bra, and I slipped my hand down the front.

  She arched against me instantly, fucking writhed as my fingers slid over her slick pussy so strongly I had to band my free arm across her chest and hold her to me.

  “Woman, you’re fucking drenched.” I dragged my ugly scarred lips up her porcelain-doll throat, brushing her ear. “How bad…do you want it?” I said, pissed when I had to pause and get my words right mid-sentence. She was scrambling my fucking brain with the hot way she was reacting, the whimpers and moans. I’d barely touched her.

  “I want it bad, please, Cal.” One of her hands slid to my wrist between her legs, holding me there like she thought I’d pull away. Like fuck. “Please,” she whimpered.

  Her desperation, her pleas just turned me on more. I dragged my index finger through her slit, unable to stop my groan at how soft and slick she was. I moved higher, circling her stiff little clit and nipping her earlobe when she cried out from the contact.

  I toyed with her, played with her until she was panting, until I could feel her thighs quivering against mine and she was so wet she was all over my hand.

  “More?” I forced past my tight throat.

  Her grip tightened on my wrist, the other hand clawing at my thigh. “Yes.”

  Finally, I slid my finger lower to her hot, wet opening and pushed in just the tip. In and out, over and over. She tried to open her legs wider, but I kept hers trapped between mine. She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling, swaying with every labored breath. She was a sight to see, fucking gorgeous. I kept my eyes on her face as I slowly pushed my finger inside her nice and deep.

  Everything she was feeling was right there on her face, and I almost came in my goddamn pants. Cassy was tight as fuck and so damn hot. I wanted inside her in a big way.

  I didn’t look away as I pumped my finger in and out, as she got closer, her sleek body undulating against me. “More,” I growled, so rough I sounded wild, fucking unhinged.

  “Yes…God, yes.”

  I slid out and pushed back in with two fingers this time, pressing down on her clit with my thumb. She bowed against me, tits thrusting high, and screamed, coming around my fingers.

  Holy fuck.

  I worked her through it, wringing out every last shudder and cry and moan. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, couldn’t look away for anything.

  Slowly, ever so slowly she came back to herself. Her lids fluttered then opened, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. Her cheeks were already pink, but she flushed brighter and quickly looked away.

  Something came over me, something I had no fucking control over. I just knew I hated it, hated her looking away from me like she was ashamed. Ashamed that she let me touch her, of what she’d let me do? I had no idea, I just fucking hated it.

  I grabbed her chin and turned her head back to the mirror. “Look at me,” I said, rough and low.

  Her eyes s
napped back up to mine.

  “Don’t do that, Princess,” I gritted out. “Don’t play coy and don’t play the innocent when you all but begged me to do exactly what I just did.”

  She shook her head, her white-blond hair tickling my chest. “I’m not…that’s not what I—”

  “We’re not done,” I said.

  She just stared at me.

  “You want more, Cassandra?” I held my goddamn breath, because after the way I’d just reacted, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she ran from my shop and never came back. “Answer me.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I want more.” This time it was stronger.

  It took everything in me to stand, step away from her, grab her shirt and bra, and hand them to her. She took them from me and dressed, eyes darting in my direction. I felt her confusion, felt the question in her eyes. I ignored it and waited until she was dressed.

  When she shifted nervously, waiting for me to say something, I stepped closer, slid my hand up the side of her neck, and leaned in close. I hadn’t kissed her yet, and I wanted to so damn badly, which was exactly why I didn’t. I refused to think too closely about that either.

  “You’ll get more, Princess. I promise you that,” I said, then I straightened and let her go. She stumbled slightly and backed toward the curtained door.

  “Right…I guess I’ll just…I’ll…t-thank you,” she stuttered, and spun, rushing out. I heard the click of her heels moving fast toward the door.

  I shoved the curtain back and called her name.

  She halted and turned back to me.

  “See you next week.”

  She went to turn again, but I stopped her.

  “Wear a skirt.”

  Her eyes flared and her fingers curled around the strap of her bag tighter, but I didn’t miss the heat there. She yanked the door open and bolted out onto the street.

  I walked to the window and watched her rush to her car, get in, and drive off. Then I let out a ragged breath.

  Somehow I had to keep my head around Cassy, and after the way she’d just come for me, I got the feeling that would be easier said than done.