Out of the Blue: Reed Security: Book Two

by Robin Leaf

~ ~ ~

  “So, Mabel, have you chosen a design yet?” Shayla asks patiently. “You keep going back to the flowers.”

  “Yeah, but that’s so… girly. I wanted a badass tattoo.”

  Shay giggles. “The thing about these is that in about a month, you can select a different one. I can pull up the website for the company that makes these, and you can choose one of them. It takes them about two weeks to come in.” She raises her newly-pierced eyebrow at Mabel. “Or, you can tell me what you want, and I can design something to send to them. Those take about six weeks.”

  “I don’t know about all that.” She sighs. “Alright, just give me the flower one for now.”

  Shay turns to Ember, who’s on the other side of the shop looking at the designs on the wall. “What about you? You ever get that hidden tattoo?”

  Ember’s eyes flash when she glances at me, her face reddening.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Why don’t you pick one of these?” I suggest. “We can put it on today to see if you like it. You and Mabel can get buddy tats.”

  “Oh, please, girly,” Mabel says brightly. “That sounds like fun.”

  Ember looks like she’s gonna protest, but she sighs when she sees Mabel’s face.

  “Fine, but like Shay said, it needs to be somewhere hidden on me, Mabel.” She turns back to studying the wall. “I’m going to see the ‘rents tomorrow, and a tattoo, even a temporary one, just might give my mom a heart attack.”

  Mabel looks at me coyly. “I bet Dugger will be happy to apply it to any hidden place you choose.”

  Ember shoots her eyes my direction and bites her lip.

  God, I want to bite that lip. Then, I want to suck it into my mouth and soothe it with my tongue.

  Her blush deepens, and she nods, turning her back to us again. “Yeah, okay.”

  “What would you want?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.” She swallows, clearing her throat. “You choose. Something small though.”

  I know just the one: the infinity symbol with the heart. I start to look through the inventory of the temp tats to find it before she comes over here. I don’t want her to see it until after it’s applied.

  “Aren’t they just the cutest?” Mabel asks, leaning into Shay, and of course she’s not as quiet as she thinks she is.

  “Oh my God,” Shay says, placing her hand on Mabel’s forearm. “It’s like watching a Hallmark Christmas movie. After they first met, they flirted like mad. I about got the shits from the cuteness overload watching them two old-people flirt with each other. I was like, ‘just ask her out already,’ but you know Dugger. Too dim to figure out when a woman is giving him the green light.”

  Shay and Mabel move to Shay’s station talking about us the whole time, while I grab the temporary tattoo and hide it from Ember.

  She walks over to me, asking sweetly, “May I see what you chose?”

  “It’s a surprise. Where do you want it?”

  She moves closer to me and runs her hand along the bottom of her left breast. “Right here.”

  Holy fuck. Leave it to this woman to give me an instant hard on with Mabel about ten feet away from me.

  I grab Ember’s hand and pull her gently to me. Her eyes widen when she feels my cock pressing against her stomach.

  “Ladies,” I say to the others, not taking my eyes off the woman in front of me, “Ember and I are going to the piercing station. I’ll take a picture of her tattoo when it’s applied.”

  I practically yank her into the hallway, flipping on the lights in the piercing room. Thank God Teddy, the guy who replaced me, isn’t due in for another hour.

  I close the door with my back, leaning against it, and watch her. She turns to me, both eyebrows raised in question.

  “You need to remove your shirt and your bra.”

  She purses her lips and flares her nostrils, challenging me.

  “The tattoo requires water and then a coating of a special oil.” I hold up a small vial. “I assumed you’d want to keep your clothes clean and dry.”

  Her face transforms to mischievous. She crosses her arms in front of her, removing her shirt over her head. My eyes feast on her lacy pink bra, so feminine and delicate. She reaches behind her, unhooking it, and makes a showing of letting the straps fall off her shoulders. She’s teasing me, and my cock really likes it.

  “Where do you want me,” she asks, holding her bra to her breasts. She runs her thumbs across her nipples, and I want to do the same.

  I pull some protective paper over the leather table in the room.

  “Here. Lay down, please.”

  She hesitates, probably rethinking her decision to tease me. Yeah, I’m not going to make it easy for her.

  I walk over to the counter and flip the speaker on, shuffling my working playlist. “Slow Burn” by Black Pistol Fire starts, the perfect song to begin this task. I turn on the water so it can warm up and remove a towel from the overhead cabinet. Filling a small bowl with the water, I add the towel and grab the other supplies from the drawers.

  When I turn around, she’s laying down with her feet pulled up to her butt, knees in the air. She’s still holding her bra to her chest.

  “Ember,” I say, just a hint of sharpness to my voice. “You need to move the bra.”

  Her breathing is a bit ragged, but she takes a deep breath to control it. I have to keep from smiling. She pulls the bra with her right hand, sliding it slowly across her chest and allowing it to fall to the floor.

  Keeping my eyes on hers, I position her left arm over her head and do my best to act completely unaffected, but those hard, perky rose-colored nipples I see in my peripheral beg to be pinched, licked, kissed, and sucked, and not gently. I take a second, arranging the supplies around her, to find my voice before I speak.

  “The manufacturer requires lightly shaving the area before application.”

  It really isn’t a manufacturer’s requirement, more of a suggestion. But I want to see if she trusts me.

  I make it a point to look her in the eye. “Do I have your permission to do that?”

  She nods, and I have to look away to hide my smile. I’m sure I would give away my ploy to touch her breast if she sees my face.

  Holy shit. This actually makes me a bit nervous, and I need a second to chill. I can’t get this razor near her tender flesh with a shaky hand.

  Once I have some control, I look at her face to see if she’s okay. She’s watching me intently, waiting. I soften my expression before gingerly reaching for her left breast and pulling the skin taught underneath it with my thumb and middle finger. She takes a deep breath, and her nipple tickles my palm. I lay my palm flat on her entire breast, and she faintly whimpers.

  “You okay there, Blue?”

  “Dandy,” she squeaks out before taking another deep breath.

  I run the razor over the area lightly twice, which is generally enough. Taking the protective cover off the temporary tattoo, I align it on the bottom of her breast and apply the wet towel.

  “I have to keep this on for forty-five seconds,” I tell her out loud. Which means I get to keep palming her breast for that long. Honestly, I will keep my hand here until after the oil is applied.

  The warm water runs down her side, and I’m sure it has to tickle. She doesn’t react though. She just stares at me, her eyes becoming more and more heated by the second. There’s not a trace of the embarrassment I saw from earlier, but her cheeks are flushed, I’m betting for a different reason now.

  The same reason my cock aches.

  I want to ask her if she’s as wet as I am hard. God, what I really want to do is find out for myself.

  Forty-five seconds feels like an eternity; I find that pushing the limits of the girl who likes to tease me is really testing mine.

  Once it’s been long enough, I move the wet towel and the backing of the tattoo and pat it dry with the other I brought over.

  “Now, I have to apply the oil with my fingers,” I announce, and
I can hear the struggle in my voice. If she didn’t know I was affected before, she sure does now.

  She closes her eyes tightly, and when the song changes to “Control” by Puddle of Mudd, I smile. I like having her under my control. My fingers touch her, dabbing gently and carefully to apply the oil. It dries in seconds to form a protective coating for the temporary tattoo. Once it’s applied, I can’t help myself.

  “You like teasing me, Ember?” I give her breast a gentle squeeze. “Asking me to apply this tattoo here, knowing I’d have to see you like this?”

  She moans, arching into my hand.

  “You saw them all night,” she whispers. “With an open invitation to touch, and you didn’t.”

  I let go, removing my hand completely.

  “I told Mabel I’d send her a picture,” I say, removing my phone. “I promise, I’ll send only the tat, okay?”

  She lifts her head, placing her hand behind it, and nods.

  Opening my camera, I zoom in on the tattoo. Showing it to Ember before sending the picture to Shayla’s phone, I type out a quick message requesting she stall Mabel for a few minutes with stories of her cows at home.

  “How long does it take to dry?” Ember asks shakily.

  “It’s already dry, but let me ask you. What does that open invitation to touch include?”

  She swallows, biting her lip again.

  “Anything you want, Dugger.”

  Holy mother fucker. It’s the first time she’s called me Dugger, which sends a little shockwave down my spine to the tip of my cock.

  “Can you be quiet?”

  She nods.

  I stand over her, catching her eyes while I reach for the button on her jeans. It comes apart easily, as does the zipper.

  “I don’t like you teasing me, Ember,” I warn. “But I have teased you, so now I know how you feel.” I rake my fingertips between her breasts and down her stomach. “I’m going to make up for that.”

  Sliding my fingers under the waistband of the panties that match her bra, I move my hand quickly to her pussy and find it so fucking wet, I have to swallow my groan.

  “God damn,” I utter, as she rocks into my hand. “Do you like your clit rubbed, or will you come faster if I fuck you with my fingers?”

  “If you’re talented,” she breathes out, “you can do both.”

  She’s right, I can, and I do. I insert two fingers slowly and carefully. It’s tight and so warm, but I concentrate on feeling upward for the spot that will get her really going. When she hisses and arches her back, I know I found it. While I work the spot, I rub her clit with my thumb. It’s not particularly comfortable for me, but damn… it’s working. I can’t stop watching her pleasure mount, wishing I had more time to draw this out longer and learn what specific moves cause her to squeeze her eyes shut, to arch her back, and to bite her lip.

  After thirty seconds of manipulations and an escalating hand cramp, she begins to tighten around my fingers. I make the decision to go for broke and lean over to her right breast, sucking her nipple into my mouth. That’s all it takes. She ignites, threatening to break my fingers with her rhythmic vice grip. When I feel her orgasm begin to subside, I lift my head, popping off her nipple so that it bounces back into place.

  “Please kiss me, Dugger.”

  There’s no hesitation, except I don’t exactly kiss her like she means. I run my lips up her chest, leaving lingering open-mouthed kisses along the way, allowing my tongue only occasional tastes. When I reach her neck, she moves her head to the side, giving me better access to the smooth skin.

  “Please,” she whispers.

  My right hand cups her cheek, and I search her eyes, running my thumb over her bottom lip, feeling its softness against my calloused skin. I simultaneously run the middle finger of my left hand, still between her legs, over her opening. Extricating my hand carefully, I bring it up to her lips, tracing my middle finger over the path my thumb took and leaving a trail of her wetness.

  Now, I do what I wanted to do earlier. I suck her lip into my mouth, groaning at my first taste. She arches into me, reaching around to grip the back of my head, securing our mouths together. I planned to kiss her sweetly the first time our lips met. This is anything but sweet. It’s raw… animalistic, a gnashing of lips and tongues and nips. It’s pure need, desire, and passion. Her hands travel down my back, gripping and pulling at me.

  My dick throbs, wanting me to climb on the table and get inside her, but I can’t… not here, not with the others just outside that door.

  But much more kissing like this, and I’ll lose all sense of myself. I put on the brakes, slowing my mouth. Thankfully, she follows my lead, softening her lips to yield to mine. Every part of our lips are engaged in this kiss, and every now and then, our tongues tentatively touch to savor what we were formerly devouring.

  This… this is more like it. This was supposed to be how our first kiss started, but our passion prevailed. I guess it’s better to end it on a sweet note rather than have it build to something we can’t take advantage of here.

  I smooth my lips over hers one last time and pull back to look in her eyes. They flutter open, her black pupils dominating the hazel. I stare for a minute, looking for any sign that what I did was wrong or unacceptable in any way. Her eyes look back at me, enraptured with whatever she sees, and her sigh of pure contentment makes me feel like a king. It makes me want to kiss her all over again.

  I wrap my right arm under her shoulders and guide her to sitting, pulling her legs over the side of the table. She scoots to the edge, widening her thighs, smacking her core right up against my cock.

  “I need to take care of you,” she whispers, reaching for the button on my pants.

  I grab her wrists and shake my head. “No, Blue, we –”

  Her eyes fly to mine. Her brows come together, and her expression rivals Cristiana’s anguished look from her dance earlier. She’s hurt, and that was so not my intent.

  She tries to shake her wrists out of my hold. “What, you can touch me, but I can’t touch you?”

  With her wrists still in my hand, I put them behind her back, sharply pulling her hips toward mine and running the length of my cock along her center.

  “Remember, I promised I’d get Mabel to her appointment by four?” She dazedly nods at me. “Good, because we have about twenty minutes to get her there.”

  “Oh, shit.” She pushes against me, so I let go of her and step back. She slides off the table, rushing to find her clothes. “I need to get dressed.”

  Twenty One

  Ember

  My sights are set on this man, this fucking perfect man. God, that kiss earlier. I remember just two days ago wondering what would happen to me if he ever put his lips on mine. Well, it far exceeded my expectations, and the fact that I’m not decimated into a crater is a miracle. It certainly felt like every cell in my body was ready to combust. That… that was a lifetime of saved-up passion in one kiss, and after that orgasm, well, let’s just say I’m very lucky to still be in one piece.

  Perfect kiss and mind-blowing orgasm aside, what really solidified the deal for me was how he spent the evening touring a retirement facility with a woman he has absolutely no formal obligation to, asking questions she didn’t think to ask and making arrangements to move her tomorrow afternoon. He even sat down with Mabel to watch her favorite part of the movie playing on the TV in the media room, The Man Who Knew Too Much, where Doris Day sang “Qué Será, Será.” These are things her family should have done for her.

  To Douglass though, Mabel is family, which, as he explained during our uninhibited conversation last night, he never felt he truly had growing up, at least not the way he wanted. His aunt, who wasn’t really his aunt, did an extremely good job raising him. His mother was a fellow burlesque dancer, and his aunt took him in after his mother asked her to watch him for a weekend so she could spend it with a boyfriend and never returned; Douglass was three. He learned his mother died from an overdose less than a year
after she left. Being a foster kid herself, his aunt didn’t want him to end up in the system, so she bought fake guardianship papers and a birth certificate, giving him a new name, so she could raise him. She worked herself ragged at two jobs and was rarely there, which left little time for him to develop a sense of home and security, and he felt how she worked so hard to raise him is what drove her to an early grave. She died of a heart attack right before he and Tater moved to California.

  All of these circumstances shaped him into the swoon-worthy man who sits across from me at his kitchen table, taking the last bite of his grilled cheese, which he made us for dinner. I made the potato soup, which means I opened the container we bought from the little deli around the corner on the way home, poured it into two bowls, and nuked it to perfection. It was strangely comfortable being all… domestic with the man.

  “Are you full already?” he asks, eying the untouched second triangle of my sandwich.

  I nod, pushing my plate toward him. “Yeah, that soup is really filling.”

  He smiles, sliding my plate on top of his empty one.

  “You okay, Blue?”

  The second time he’s asked me that today, and my answer is no. I think I’m coming down with a massive case of feelings. I’m not sure whether I hope it’s contagious or not. The only thing I know for certain is that I’m definitely falling for him. Hard. And I have this sudden overwhelming feeling I’m gonna splat like a bug on the windshield. It’s too soon to feel that way, isn’t it? I can’t. It’s impossible. The only explanation is that I’m confused since we’ve been shoved in each other’s faces for the past seventy-two hours, where we’ve survived several lightning-bolt encounters, his allergic reaction, a friend’s terminal prognosis, my two spectacular hands-only orgasms, naked cuddling, a wicked kiss, and oh yeah, a stalker, complete with creepy pictures and threatening emails.

  Is this real? Or is it just some dangerous, situational, lust-driven attraction that’s coloring my judgment, making me see him through the bad-decision-tinted glasses I’m forced to wear because of the reason he’s here.