Page 48

Calista

1 YEAR LATER

T hey say that happiness comes in waves, and to take it as it comes because one day the tide may recede back to Atlantis.

Okay, not exactly, but I liked the thought it isn’t global warming reducing our water levels.

Ronan and I, we take everything in strides together. This past year has been the happiest I have ever been, and I can truly say that without a single doubt. He was everything I was missing in my life; strength, stability and a weight I needed to ground me to live.

He told me what Samantha once said to him, that his heavy wasn’t worth carrying, and I couldn’t disagree more. If there ever was a man worth that, it’s Ronan. As selfish as he thinks he is, the way he has learned to care for me and his family, it screams of a man that just needed to be heard.

People often don’t realize how vital it is to see without words, and if they are spoken, how important it is to listen.

I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately, and though we’re well past our first anniversary, that’s not really the reason. It’s been a year since I got out of ‘prison’ and just a week since finishing my probation. While I’m officially free now, I’ve felt that sense of freedom ever since I was released—a feeling I hadn’t experienced since losing my dad.

It wasn’t the cell that held me captive, but my mom. I hadn’t realized the weight she’d been putting on me, how much animosity I’d been carrying. Going no-contact with her was the best choice I could have made. The holidays have been tough, but I’m grateful for Mia, our little family, and Eamon. They’ve made all the difference.

“Warm enough?” Ronan asks as we move to the slow lane on the freeway.

I tighten my arms around him, not because I’m scared but selfishly I still enjoy the fact I’m the only one that can do it. “Yeah, the extra layer was smart.”

“Good.” He moves one of his hands back and grabs my ass.

“Ronan! Hands on the handles.”

Smart-ass then moves it up to my hip.

I roll my eyes and move my hand under his jacket where I proceed to find his nipple to pinch. His thunderous chuckle has my pussy clenching. Damn him for being so fucking sexy.

Turning my head to look at the exits, I’m surprised we pass right by Ken’s. We were heading over to their place to play something called Dungeons and Dragons. Ronan isn’t familiar, nor am I, but the boys have been begging us to get involved. We offered to try, because he and I both share the sentiments that life is too short not to spend it with the people you love.

“Did my nipple pinch distract you?”

He hums. “No, on the contrary, if you put your hand down into my lap, I didn’t even get hard.”

I release a pfft and do just that. Pulled against his left thigh, is his hard cock. “Liar.”

“Ah, yes, but now you’ve touched my dick which is exactly what I wanted.”

A stupid giggle slips from my lips. “My god, you’re so silly.” My hand doesn’t release him, even if I probably should considering we are going over sixty. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

A few more exits, and we are off the highway. We take a few windy turns and find ourselves in a residential area. It’s nice, trees lining the sidewalks, yards for the most part done, and the houses well maintained. I know I shouldn’t associate how a neighborhood looks to safety, but my PTSD still flares from time-to-time.

Not that it matters, anywhere I go with Ronan I feel safe, especially since Samantha and her husband were convicted of attempted murder, extortion, solicitation to commit murder, and a minor in possession of a controlled dangerous substance. The drug in the syringe she wanted me to use on Ronan was liquid Fentanyl.

I was very lucky to have had a good lawyer, and also grateful for the privilege I know that I have. My killing of the driver was out of self-defense, and it was ruled that with no question. I feared that Ronan would be angry at the system, not me of course, but he only said that was what I deserved.

He was so proud of me for fighting and not giving up. I swear he ate my pussy for hours like I was a five-star restaurant.

After parking and helping me off the bike, he takes my helmet and leads me up to the front door. I knock for us, and within seconds, an ebony skinned man answers the door with a big smile on his face. I’ll never forget the smell of a tattoo shop, but for that same scent to be coming from this house has me puzzled.

“It’s good to see you two again,” he says while stepping to the side.

I’m even more confused. I don’t remember who this person is. I’ve got pretty good memory, at least for faces.

“It is.” Ronan looks down at me and gestures for me to go inside. “Baby girl, this is Alan, you met him that night at the bonfire.”

Heat immediately floods to my face as I jerk my gaze up. Alan just grins, eagerly waving me into his home. I stop hesitating and walk through the door.

“Apparently that place has an online forum; Ken is quite familiar.” It seems like Ronan is familiar with it too, and when I glance back at him, he’s setting down our helmets before making his way over to my side. “I’ll show you.”

“You two are very popular.” Alan brings my attention back to him, his thick eyebrows wiggling with suggestive intent.

“Anyway.” Ronan clears his throat. “Alan is a tattoo artist, and you’ve been talking about getting another one, so I reached out. He does incredible work.”

My nerves have gone straight out the window, because hell yes I want one. As I smile up at Alan, he begins to bring us toward the back of the house, into a large room with a very distinct atmosphere. I’ve been to strip clubs, and their VIP sections. This is exactly that but with tattoo equipment.

The walls are dark, lined with very suggestive artwork. They look like sketches, likely some of his previous work. The lighting is moody, but there’s a free-standing lamp, my guess is for the artist, Alan, to be able to see. There’s a leather couch, black with green and white stripped pillows.

When I look up at Ronan, he is smirking. “Do you mind if I pick what you get?”

I shake my head. “No, just please don’t put a penis on my forehead.”

That gets a snort-laugh out of Alan. “While art is beautiful, your face my dear, is already a masterpiece.”

I’m going to combust. “My god, thank you.”

Ronan chuckles. “He’s right. Pierce your face, but no ink. If I want to mark it, it will be with my cum or temporary paint.”

My bottom lip is caught between my teeth as I lean into him, burying my face against his chest. He runs his fingers gently through my hair, pausing when he reaches the loose braid at the nape of my neck.

“I’ll also be getting one, but you’ll go first,” he continues. “Do you mind if it stays a surprise?”

The sensation of my heart racing has me both nervous, and excited, I’m actually getting wet. My thighs clench, desperate even for a second of friction.

“No, I don’t.”

He leans in and places a brief kiss against my lips. “That’s my good girl.” Now my pussy is weeping for him, great . “Now, get naked.”

My eyes widen in shock. “W-What?”

“You heard me.” He grips my braid and tears my head back, eliciting a gasp from me. “Completely.”

I look over at Alan, who is prepping his station. The black leather tattoo bed that’s for me to sit on, is now adjusted upward so that I’ll be able to be at an angle.

“Where am I getting it?” I ask while slowly taking off my jacket. Suddenly, I’m scorching hot.

“I’m thinking your right arm, at your bicep, but I’ll let Alan set it where he thinks it will look the best. Don’t worry, I’m mindful of your designs, baby girl.”

Damn him for being so hot. I’m a puddle for him daily .

I shed my clothes, piece by piece, and before I can convince myself otherwise, I’m completely nude. The question lingers on my tongue why I need to be bare for an arm tattoo, but I trust Ronan to give me every new experience in a safe place.

That day at the bonfire, with him chasing me through the woods—I felt safe, no matter what.

He takes my hand and helps me onto the table, positioning me in a perfect lounge angle. When I look up at my tattoo artist, he's snapping his gloves on.

“Eyes on me, Cal.” I snap my gaze to Ronan who is standing at the foot of the table. “Do you know what is about to happen?”

Now that he says it like that, I’m not so sure. There’s a part of me that thinks I know what’s about to happen, but how? Isn’t that dangerous? Wouldn’t it mess up Alan and his work?

I don’t want to question it, because I’m secretly hoping the hunger in his eyes is going to be satiated by my pussy.

Shaking my head in feigned ignorance, I feel my body heat rising.

“I’m going to spread your legs and first devour that delectable cunt of yours.” My heart falls to my stomach, and I swear those butterflies in there are attacking each other. “Then fill it with my cock.”

“R-Ronan…” I feel Alan touching my arm, a cold stroke comes before a wiping sensation. I’m familiar with this process. Shave, clean, stencil. The size of the paper pressing against my skin makes me think it’s a decent size, not small necessarily.

“You’ll keep your eyes on me the entire time,” he demands.

“Stay as still as possible on your right side,” Alan adds. “I’ve been doing this for years, I’m used to it. While I’ll enjoy your show, this is the challenge I crave. Tattooing a statue gets boring.”

I don’t tear my gaze away from Ronan’s sapphire eyes. “He won’t touch you, I don’t share like that. However, I love showing off what’s mine.” He then points over his shoulder, where I follow to see a blinking red light. “I’d like to share you with that online forum as well, but only if you consent.”

I absolutely love he wants to show me off as his, it makes me far more needy than I already am for him.

The peeling back of the stencil and a soft breeze of air has bumps crawling up my body.

“Do I get to show you off after?” I ask.

“Of course, baby girl. When it’s my turn, you can suck and ride my dick until we are both satisfied.”

Biting my lip, I nod. “I consent.”

He looks at Alan briefly, winks, and then leans forward. “My needy little slut loves to be shown like a prize, doesn’t she?” His hands grab my knees and spreads my legs wide.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Keep them right there,” he commands while leaning back. I do as he says, my heels pressing against my bare ass while my knees are lazily kept outward.

Watching him lean down under the table, he pops something, and the bottom half of the table falls. Just as the tattoo gun buzzes, he is getting down onto his knees and using his hands to spread my pussy lips.

“Look how fucking wet you are,” he croons.

Alan’s hand presses to my shoulder, and I begin to pant.

Ronan’s eyes meet mine as he leans in and swipes his tongue across my throbbing clit. The needle of the gun presses at the same time, right into my skin.

I suck in a deep breath and feel a strange thrill run through me. The burning in my arm as the ink is dragged through my skin and my clit being sucked in between his lips has me shaking.

My head falls back against the headrest, my free hand moves down to his head, grabbing through his short black hair and holding on tight. He shifts his head back and forth while keeping my bud situated between his lips. This man knows how to please me, always has, and it has me in a vice like grip.

His pierced tongue, now with a metal bar, runs the length of my pussy before flicking in a cross like pattern over and over against my clit. Every nerve in my body is alive, and I swear I jerk at one point, but I’m paying mind to keep all of my movement down at my hips.

Even still, my concern for ruining whatever Alan is doing, is unwarranted. He is holding me down, even if I feel like a fish out of water.

“Fuck! Ronan!” At my scream, he groans against me, which vibrates right to my stomach.

Several fingers slip straight into my pussy, and as he curls them to brush against my g-spot, my hips threaten to lift off the table. He uses his free hand to help stabilize me and keep me down.

Then, he pushes his fingers deeper, and I swear I can feel his knuckles also breach inside me. A sensation of fullness takes over me, and my body shivers with it.

For the first time, he releases my clit. “I’m going to tear this out one day…” The tips of his digits hit my back wall, and I gasp. I know he’s searching for the string of my IUD. Black dots splatter across my eyes as I stare at him looking right into my eyes. “And fill you with my cum day in, and day out.”

“P-Please…” I say through short breaths. Just the thought of that has me right at the precipice. We aren’t ready for kids, but the prospect he wants that, has my climax hitting hard. “Oh god, fuck, that’s it!”

His mouth returns to my clit and the moment he pumps his fingers, I’m coming so hard the table begins to shake with me. He moves his face to use his free hand to tap and swipe across my clit as I make a mess over him. Squirting was not something I experienced outside of using Big Bertha and my wand, but he’s found out how to elicit it like it's my moans.

“That’s it, baby girl, fuck that’s good. Look how your body comes for me and only me.”

Fireworks are lighting up my vision, my mouth wide open as I heave through a strangled breath.

He grins. “Who does this cunt belong to?”

“You.” I pant. “You…”

“Naturals,” Alan comments, and I’m beyond tempted to look at him. I want to see his face, see the art he is working on, but most importantly, see if he is hard. I could care less about his actual dick, but the prospect that Ronan and I are turning him, or anyone on the other end of that camera, on just does something to me.

However, as badly as I want to look, I don’t. I stare right at my gladiator as he takes off his shirt and then his pants, along with his boxers. He grabs his curved cock that’s at full attention, fisting up and down his pierced masterpiece.

“Put your dick inside me, please, baby.”

“How bad does my slut want my cock?” he asks, slightly turning so that the camera can see just how much of a mess he has already made. It also gives them a view of his length in his grasp. His precum lathering, giving him the ability to stroke himself.

“So fucking badly… I’d kill for it—”

He chuckles. “For legal purposes, that’s just a metaphor for ‘really badly’.” Then he squares himself back to me, “I’m moving her down.” The pull of the needle away from me slightly comes with Ronan dragging my ass down the leather seat. I slip down pretty easily thanks to all my cum.

The cross piercing at the head of his cock drags across my clit, just as the tattoo gun gets back to work on my piece. He slowly enters me just as I’m clenching from the burn of the needle.

His grin is diabolical, and my stomach tightens at the intensity of it. “I’m going to fuck my pussy until you come all over it, then you’ll clean up your mess. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes!” He throws his hips forward, and I gasp.

I want this until the day we are both no more. Fucking, riding his bike together, taking care of our dog, getting tattoos for each other—this is the life I’ve waited for. Being shown off as being his and no one else’s. It’s what I deserve to have, and every day Ronan reminds me of that fact.

After fucking me until I came again, he stood beside the chair, and I cleaned up my mess until he filled my throat with his own release.

He gave me a break while Alan finished up my tattoo, wrapped it, and told me we could see it later. Then it was his turn, and it was a bit more difficult to fuck him due to the location of his tattoo.

He ended up getting the tattoo on his chest, right over where he was shot. It was the only free place besides on his legs, and he wanted it more front and center than there. The placement wasn’t really the problem, he just had to blindfold me after I sucked his dick to ride him.

I may be an actual addict to this type of tattooing. I cannot imagine getting another one without having Ronan’s cock somewhere inside me, or his face between my thighs.

Once his was done, we wrapped up with Alan and made our way over to Ken’s place. Everyone was waiting for us, including Eamon, which I wasn’t expecting. We weren’t late or anything, they were all just eager to see us, or the tattoos, I guess. After about an hour, we unwrapped them to see them for the first time. Alan was sweet and gave us second-skin to apply after our viewing of them.

Seeing the design on Ronan, then on myself, nearly brought me to tears. It’s about the size of a half-dollar, with three brushstrokes of my favorite color and a roman numeral etched over it. The number between us is the same, but his is a forest green.

“Is this a date?” I ask, leaning in closer to inspect his.

“It is.”

“June twenty-first…” He drags his knuckles across my cheek. My gaze lifts to look up into his eyes that are full of love, patience and longing. “What’s that day?”

A soft chuckle rolls from his throat. “It’s the day you touched me.” Heat immediately consumes my eyes, tears slowly gathering at my lids. “I think they call it a core memory. While I’ll never forget that day and its significance, I want others to see it… Ask ‘what does it mean?’ so that I can say to them, the woman I love painted a new beginning for me.”

Warm tears draw down my cheek as I release a choked laugh.

“And for you to tell people it’s the day you chose my heavy to carry.”

I suck in a snot filled breath through my nose and smile so hard, my temples begin to throb.

“Then…” he continues and moves his hand behind his back. “I want you to tell them that the same day you got that tattoo, is the day I asked you to marry me.”

I look down, goosebumps prickling across my arms and down my legs. In his hand is a small, open green box, and inside it, a ring. The band is rose gold, with a princess-cut diamond nestled between two smaller, circular stones.

“It isn’t much, but…” He leans forward and grabs my hand, slipping the ring that fits perfectly onto my finger. “No amount of money can amount to your worth, so I’m not even going to try.”

My tear-filled eyes look up to him.

“Will you marry me, Calista?”

With trembling lips, I nod my head and say through a joyous laugh, “Yes. A million times yes, Ronan.”

He grabs the back of my head and pulls me into a fierce kiss. The sounds of our family around us, including his brother, fade into the background.

Thank you, Ronan, for giving me everything I’ve ever needed, and more.