Page 2 of Chasing Ink (House of Ink #3)

I’m Sober... What Now?

S kye

Six hours, thirteen minutes. That’s how long I stayed away from Alistair. I know we were both a little drunk last night, but I know what I want. And today? I am going to get it.

I have no intention of letting him slip from my grasp once we return home but first I need him to give in to what we both wanted.

What we have both always wanted. I shower and dress in my deep red bikini.

I’ve never worn it before and it shows a lot of skin, but I need the extra push to entice him into agreeing with my latest crazy plan.

Yes, I know it’s crazy.

Yes, I am aware that it could backfire badly.

No, none of that will stop me.

Grabbing my beach bag with my romance novel, water, and tanning lotion inside, I do a quick onceover in the mirror beside the door.

My black curls are pinned up out of my face and I’m wearing minimal makeup.

Around my waist is a translucent white wrap giving just a peak of my legs and bikini bottoms underneath while leaving my chest uncovered.

The little red triangles of my bikini top don’t cover my breasts completely, leaving most of the side exposed to the Tahiti sunshine. My full C-cup breasts, bounce with every move I make and I can’t help but smile.

I leave my bungalow and walk the short distance to his.

Pushing my shoulders back, I walk up the steps before knocking on his door.

When the door opens his gaze scans the length of my body before he pulls me inside and slams it shut.

His gaze darkens as he pushes me back against the wood of the door and looks me over once more.

“Skye, what are you wearing?” The question is low and menacing, sending goosebumps dancing across my skin.

“My bikini,” I say with more confidence than I am feeling.

“That’s not a bikini, baby doll.” His left eye twitches and I know he wants to say more but doesn’t.

I laugh, slipping beneath his arm and putting my bag on the coffee table. I turn to face him and I can tell he isn’t happy.

“I’m sober, Ali.”

“Fuck me.” He runs his left hand down his face.

“I thought that would be my line.”

I step closer to him, wanting to touch him but he stops me short.

“Sit down. Let’s talk.”

I don’t like the sound of that at all, but I do comply.

Taking a seat on the couch, I allow my wrap to fall open and expose my leg all the way to my hip.

His gaze tracks the movement and I swear it feels like he is touching my bare skin.

My nipples pebble behind the flimsy material of my bikini top and I know he sees that too.

“If we are going to do this...” he starts but I interrupt.

“We are doing this.”

“Then we need rules,” he says, pushing a piece of paper toward me.

His handwriting is slanted but neat as I read over what he has written.

This is between us and no one else

Luke can never know about this

No one is allowed to touch, kiss, or fuck you until after we are back home

Condoms—always

No talking about emotions

“Number two is redundant because of number one,” I say with a grin. “But I can live with the rest.”

“Skye,” he says with a sigh. “I’m not a boy. I’m not soft or gentle. Are you sure about this?”

“If I wanted soft and gentle, I would have asked someone else.” I say clearly, standing and crossing the room to stand between his legs. “I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

His hands to go my hips, rubbing small circles. “I will never hurt you, baby doll.”

“Can we stop talking about this now?” I ask. “We only have a few days and there is quite a lot for you to teach me.”

He takes a deep breath and nods. Slowly he undoes the knot holding my wrap around my waist before letting it fall to the floor. His rough hands touch the skin at my hips gently and I want to fucking cry. For as long as I can remember I have dreamt of this moment. Of having his hands on me.

“You have beautiful skin,” he murmurs, his thumbs running over my hip bone. “Promise me if you ever want a tattoo you’ll let me ink you.”

“Oh, God, yes,” I whisper. The idea of his hands on me while he permanently marks my skin has me rubbing my thighs together.

“Come here,” he demands, sitting back in the white armchair with his legs together. “Sit on my legs.”

I comply immediately, afraid he will change his mind if I take too long. He stares at me for long moments before he splits his thighs, effectively splitting mine too. Shit. He watches me carefully for any sign of discomfort before lowering his gaze to the scrap of material covering my pussy.

“I won’t fuck you...”

“But our deal!”

“I won’t fuck you today ,” he says firmly. “You wanted me to teach you and fucking you doesn’t accomplish anything except confirming that you can take my fat cock.” He grips his obscene erection through his shorts and I shiver. “I’ll teach you other things first.”

“Like?” my voice is husky and soft.

“Let’s start small. Show me how you touch yourself.”

I freeze. When I came up with this plan, he was doing most of the work. But now he wants me to do things myself and I’m not sure I can.

“I can’t...”

“You can,” he interrupts. “And if you do, I will too.”

For a moment I hesitate but then I take a deep breath and nod.

My hands go to my breasts and I softly fondle the globes, pushing them together before releasing them.

My hands slide down my sides and butterflies erupt in my stomach at the heated look Ali gives me.

I avoid my sex and a low sound of discontent leaves him as I touch my thighs.

His hand rubs over his erection and I know I need to move things along even though I am enjoying teasing him.

Using both hands I frame my pussy and he licks his lips.

Slowly, I work a single finger beneath the material and touch my sex.

Alistair makes a low sound in the back of his throat similar to a growl and I smile.

“Tease,” he rumbles and I laugh. “Show me.”

I push the fabric aside and he visibly swallows, his gaze glued to my sex. No one has ever seen this part of me and I suddenly feel shy.

His left hand runs along my inner thigh until he reaches the apex, his thumb teasing my most intimate flesh.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” he mumbles, clearly not talking to me. “We’ll need to prep you, baby doll, or my cock will never fit in there without hurting you.”

A mewling sound erupts from deep within me and his gaze connects with mine. “What was that?” he asks with a small smile. “Do you like the idea of my thick cock wrecking you?”

My chest heaves with every breath I take, his dirty words driving me crazy.

“Yes.” The word is barely a whisper but it’s the truth.

“Good. Now touch yourself.”

Gathering my arousal I rub between the lips and around my entrance. I know from experience, if I touch my clit it will be over quickly, and I am enjoying teasing him. I watch him as he lowers the zipper on his shorts and pulls his cock out, licking his lips.

His hand moves leisurely from base to tip and back down again. I’m so mesmerized by his movement that I stop touching myself and so does he.

“If you stop, I stop,” he explains.

“I... I want...”

“Tell me.”

“I want you to touch me and I want to touch you.” I feel the heat blanketing my face as I say the words.

Alistair is unfazed and wraps the hand not still resting on my pussy around his thick length. “You can touch me, but I want to watch you come on your own fingers before I touch you.”

I don’t argue. Slowly I pump his length in my hand, inserting a finger into myself. His gaze darkens and I’m not sure what he likes more, but I push on, inserting a second finger. I match the tempos, fucking myself and stroking him at the same time.

This is so dirty, so not what I had in mind, but so damn sexy I don’t know if I want to stop.

“Harder, baby doll. I won’t break.” I tighten my grip and his head falls back, the cords in his neck distended. “That’s perfect, just like that.”

I can feel my orgasm building but I want his hands on me. I know what he said but I’m dying to feel his touch. I have always been hungry for it.

“Please,” I beg. I don’t need to say anything else, he already knows what I want.

His hand lifts to my breast, his thumb circling around my peaked nipple. “I’ll make you a deal. After you come on your fingers, I’ll clean it up with my tongue.”

“Oh, my,” I whisper. Removing my fingers from my entrance I up the tempo on both him and myself. I rub harshly at my clit and within seconds I am moaning like a porn star, my orgasm stealing the final bit of my sanity.

“Fuck,” he mutters, thrusting into my hand. “Never seen anything so damn sexy.”

I’m still lost in my orgasm when I find myself placed on the coffee table, the wooden surface cold against my back. Alistair pushes my hand away and situates himself between my thighs.

“Stop me now, Skye. Because once I taste you...”

I lift my hips into the air, begging for what only he can give me.

And then he does. His lips are against my flesh, his tongue slipping between my folds.

I curse and writhe, not knowing what to do with the feelings he is wringing out of me.

His tongue flicks at my clit and I want die, cry, and beg for more, my over sensitized flesh hardening further for him.

“Oh, God!” I moan loudly, not caring who hears. “Alistair!”

“Yes, baby doll,” he says with a smirk, inserting a thick finger inside me. “Scream my name.” I’m actively fucking his finger as he inserts another, using a scissor motion inside me, stretching me. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Oh, my,” I mumble, feeling the stretch and the burn, my orgasm once more cresting. “I’m going to come.”

His mouth finds me once more, his tongue lashing at my clit until I’m screaming, my orgasm washing over me and my channel gripping his fingers tightly. For long moments he remains between my legs before he moves. My eyes are closed, my body limp from the pleasure it just received.

“Look at me,” he demands hoarsely. I open my eyes to find him beside me, his cock in hand. “I’m going to come on your tits. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

I realize my bikini is still somehow miraculously in place and push the fabric aside. Taking the globes in hand, I force myself to sit up. I push them together and lift them higher like some sort of obscene offering.

“Please.”

His hand works his length in a blur of speed, grunts escaping from him. His hips start to move in shallow thrusts and I know he is getting close. I look up at him, at the pleasure transforming his features.

“Please, Alistair.”