Page 137 of Caution to the Wind

Everyone had gone home for the night, even Axe-Man had taken off without a single word or glance in my direction half an hour ago. Even though a tattoo artist in Vancouver had inked Axe-Man’s designs into my skin over the past eight years, it felt wrong to be getting his Chinese dragon inked onto me in his own tattoo shop by someone else.

There was an ache in my throat I couldn’t swallow down, something like hope gone wrong. I guessed a little part of me had hoped Axe-Man might want to finish my canvas himself.

But just because we’d been getting along better, just because we’d hate fucked twice, didn’t mean everything was forgiven. Of course, he wouldn’t want to put his own mark on my body. There was something utterly possessive about it, an act of ownership.

And he didn’t want to own me.

No matter how much I longed for it.

It was even worse now that I knew how deliciously dominant he was in bed. How good it felt to be bent and shaped by him, to take his blunt weapon of a cock in my throat and my cunt.

I shivered a little just thinking of it as I took off my shirt and settled on my stomach over the comfortable chair.

It embarrassed me a bit to admit I always got aroused when I was tattooed. Something about the low-grade buzz of pain, the sharp bite on tender skin arrowed straight to my sex. It was probably a good thing Axe-Man wasn’t doing the honours or else I might have actually jumped him before he could finish.

Heavy motorcycle boots thudded across the floor as Nova came back from the thermal printer and sat on the rolling stool at my side. I listened with my eyes closed as he adjusted his wheely table of supplies within reach and began to prep the area of my back and shoulder for the tattoo. Music played on low in the background, the only noise in the quiet shop other than the odd metallic rattle of tools on the tray and the rumble of wheels over the floor as Nova moved around the space. The familiarity of the process lulled me into a kind of trance not unlike the meditative space I occupied when Axe-Man bossed me around in the bedroom.

Thoughts drained from my brain and left me empty and at peace.

The first bite of the tattoo gun was almost welcome.

I was a bit surprised Nova didn’t keep up conversation, because he seemed like a charming character, but I was pleased by the silence. It made it easier to get lost in the process.

He probably worked silently on me for three hours outlining the huge, undulating dragon from my lower left back diagonally across my spine and up around my right shoulder. I’d have to come back in for at least one other session for the shading and colouring.

I stirred a little when he pulled the top of my leggings down a little over the upper curve of my ass, exposing the top of my left butt cheek.

“What’re you doing?” I almost slurred, so deeply relaxed I was almost drugged.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, rough fingers prepped a small area on my ass and pressed a stencil to the skin.

“Nova, seriously?” I said, squirming a little because those rough hands felt a little too good on the tender skin of my ass. “The tattoo shouldn’t extend that far.”

A grunt, but otherwise no comment.

It was the grunt that made me pause though.

Not only because Nova didn’t seem like the kind of heathen to use sounds instead of words. But because I would recognize that rough grumble anywhere.

“Axe-Man?” I squawked, trying to push up to turn and look at him.

A firm hand on my other ass cheek kept me pressed down.

“Axe-Man, what the fuck are you doing?” I demanded, twisting my head awkwardly so I could see him now, bent over my ass with the tattoo gun posed in one gloved hand.

He shot me a dismissive glance and started the machine, pressing the buzzing gun to my skin.

I hissed at the tenderness on the thin skin, at the new knowledge that it wasAxe-Mantattooing me and not Nova. That it was Axe-Man who’d put the final finish on my canvas of his artwork. That I’d wear his art done by his hand for the rest of my life.

I bit my lip to stop the shudder that threatened to roll through me and then groaned a little when he palmed my opposite ass cheek and growled, “Be still, Mei.”

“What are you doing?” I asked again, breathy with arousal.

I could feel my pulse move between my thighs where it grew steadily stronger, a drumline of arousal beating through my core.

“You don’t stay still, you won’t find out,” he warned in a harsh growl.