Page 32

Puck

The heady taste of her coated my lips, my tongue. Her pretty pink pussy was shining, wet, and begging to be fucked. Hell, she was begging to be fucked.

I grabbed her by the throat with a gloved hand and pulled her to me as she fished my cock from my jeans. If anyone walked in, they’d see a lot. I wasn’t leaving her long enough to lock the door.

The kiss was primal, urgent, and hard. I couldn’t be easy with her, not after the way she’d bucked against my face.

I could fuck anyone. There were dozens of patch bunnies at the clubhouse right now. But none of them were Kenna. And if I were honest with myself, I’d wanted her for years. That’s what this kiss was, all that pent up desire. I wasn’t holding back like I had been.

She was small and delicate but kissed me back frantically, stroking the length of my cock as she did, and groaning when I tightened my grip on her throat.

I’d spent most of my day dreaming of sinking balls deep in her.

I ripped my lips away, rubbed a rubber coated thumb across her bottom lip, and liked the way the black contrasted against her flushed skin. Delicate was the wrong word to describe her, she wasn’t. She was strong, sexy, dynamite in a tiny package.

“I’m not going to be easy,” I grumbled, desperate to keep my voice low. The idea someone could walk in was exciting, but fucking up my entire shop because Kenna left me horny as fuck—not a great idea.

Excitement flashed in her eyes and she nipped my thumb, her teeth catching on the rubber and releasing with a little snap as she pulled away.

She came willingly, sliding off the chair, still stroking me. I closed my eyes against her greedy touch. Any other time, I’d let her jerk me off and enjoy every minute of it. But now, I wanted so much more.

I spun her around and pushed her on the chair on her stomach, her booted feet dangling. She was prone, exposed, and unable to move. And somehow, she still managed to wiggle her ass at me.

The sound of rubber on skin radiated through the small room. I hiked her skirt up the rest of the way, my red hand print taking up damn near more space than she had ass cheek.

“Later on, I’m going to need you to spend more time doing just that.” She groaned when I smacked her ass again. “Please.”

Damn right I would, but not now. Now I was desperate to be inside her—my way.

I pulled off the gloves, wiped my hands on my jeans, and guided the tip of my cock against her cunt. Every motion felt like someone else was doing it and I was just the observer. Until I slid into her. That warm, slick velvet feeling washed over me like nothing else before.

With trembling fingers, I grabbed her hips and lifted, angling her so I could go deeper. And I did, sinking inside her on a long low moan until her ass pressed against me. Her tiny gasp was sexy, as was the white knuckled grip she had on the tattoo chair.

After that, it was a blur of pure sensation. In and out, friction sliding across sensitive flesh. And when I thought I’d gone too far, too hard, she’d beg for more, until all I could hear was skin on skin and my own feral grunts.

She tightened impossibly around me, her body shuddering, and she bit the chair to keep from crying out. Wet heat engulfed my cock and left me unable to think about anything else but getting mine. I pumped faster now, giving her no room to recover, no time to breathe.

A warning shot of pleasure scorched down my spine to my balls, and I almost pulled out. Would have any other time, and yet, I trusted her and let go while I was hilt deep inside.

Once. Twice. Then I dropped her hips, leaned over her, pushed her hair away, and kissed the base of her neck. I stayed there for several seconds, listening to our panting breaths and watching the action in the shop. It was a busy night, thank God, and doubtful anyone heard anything over the music.

“Are you coming up when you finish?”

“That an invitation?” I pushed up, keeping my weight off her, and pulled my still twitching cock free.

“Listen, I don’t want you to think I need you to crawl into bed with me and make me breakfast in the morning. I’m a big girl. We can just have a good time.”

I watched her scramble from the tattoo chair, talking and moving so fast I thought she might trip.

“Mhmm.” I cleaned myself off with a towel from the box, tossed it into the trash, and let her talk. I’d learned a long time ago that I had to wait until she took a breath to get her attention.

“No strings, nothing like that. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“That what this is?” I leaned down with a fist on either side of her, effectively pinning her back against the tattoo chair we’d just fucked on.

There was a thin sheen of sweat across her chest and her pulse pounded at the hollow of her throat. I nuzzled that spot.

“I don’t understand the question.” She screwed her eyebrows together and blew a tuft of purple tipped hair from her face.

“Is fucking me an obligation?”

I knew the answer, but it was fun to watch her squirm.

“No. Absolutely not. I would never—”

She socked me in the ribs as soon as she realized I was laughing.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” I straightened. “And I have a client who just walked in. Take your shit and your distracting sexy ass upstairs. I’ll come up when I’m done, and we can revisit the way you wiggled your ass each time I spanked it.”

“I think I said everything I need to.” She stuck her tongue out, hopped off the tattoo chair, and grabbed her envelope.

I didn’t reach out to kiss her. If I did, I’d never get any fucking work done.

“I didn’t.”

When she looked back at me, her face was tinged pink and her eyes wide with surprise and shock. “Adam…”

This time I swatted her on the ass. “Two hours, Kenna.”

She practically ran from the room.

Fuck, I was a goner.

***

“Bro, it smells like sex in here.” Jester made an intrigued face as he collapsed into my desk chair.

He wasn’t wrong. It did smell like sex. Not as strong as it had, but the stringent antiseptic scent had worn off from where I’d cleaned the chair.

“Who are you fucking at work?” It was amusing to watch the gears turn in his head and a twisted sort of grin explode on his face. “That the real reason you’ve got her upstairs? This where you tell me to stay away?”

Jester had been a one and done sort of guy as long as I’d known him.

Except for his kinkier girls, the subs he had on speed dial.

But Kenna wasn’t one of them. That he’d make another play for Kenna hadn’t really been a concern.

Not from his end. Until she’d teased me tonight, I hadn’t realized how jealous it would make me if she did.

“Something like that.”

He smiled like the Cheshire Cat, somehow threatening and charming all at once. “Good thing I can read the room, brother. Or I’d have been humping her leg already.”

I cut him a sideways glance and racked some of my drawings, all of her, and slid them into a folder.

But not before he saw one.

“God-damn, brother.” He stood and reached for them.

He’d seen her naked. Hell, I’d been in the room when he’d fucked her stupid.

But some of these were mine and for my eyes only.

I peeled out the one I’d been working on.

Instead of naked and begging for it, she was still begging…

but wearing a short cropped white t-shirt.

I’d used charcoal. And the only thing I’d put color on was her lips.

Not quite Cherry Red, but something darker and sexier, much like what she wore tonight.

I handed it to him. “I’m thinking of having the bike airbrushed, been fooling around with that.”

“Fuck, that’s Kenna.” He whistled in appreciation.

“Yeah.”

“That’s about as big as having her face tattooed on you.”

I’d thought about it. There weren’t many people I could be honest with. “With this, I can see it. It won’t be covered up.”

“You talked to her about it?” He handed me the sketch and found his seat again.

“Not yet. I will.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re good together.” He draped one leg over the opposite knee and pulled out his phone. “She’s not like Jess.”

No, she wasn’t. Not even when she was with Eli—she was better than my ex. In all the important ways. And I had to think about that, too. Eli had loved her long before I did. It had killed him to go so long without seeing her. If I fucked this up…

“There’s a lot of shit to consider.”

“Keep telling yourself that, brother, and someone else is going to scoop her up.” He never looked at me, his fingers furiously typing.

“That why you’re here, to give me relationship advice at one in the morning?”

“No.” He dropped his phone in his pocket.

“Ghost came through, gave me a time and drop location for Jerry Wayne’s shit.

AP wants us on deck tomorrow to do some recon and get shit ready for Ivan and Gunnar to come up.

Drop happens day after tomorrow. But he wants us radio silent, just in case someone’s watching. ”

Because Jerry Wayne got to people quick, always had. And I had a reason to keep Kenna close. Looks like I’d need a babysitter this weekend.

“Wife that shit up.” He stood, slapped his hand into mine, and squeezed it before heading to the door.

“You’re the second person to tell me that.”

“Who beat me to it?”

“Cam.”

“Then you should listen.”

I was, because they were both right. Kenna deserved to be treated like more than a pass around, even if she deserved more than I could give.

But I damn sure wouldn’t let someone else have her.

She was mine .