Page 66 of Stone: The Precursor

“What?” I pant. His eyes lock on me, holding me in a vortex of trying to decipher what he means.

“I said show me where the pain is. You’re bleeding a little.”

“I am?” I lean down and notice for the first time the tiny, almost minuscule drops of blood on one of the lines he just did.

He dabs at it, slowly, and when I look down, I blink, noticing the bulge in his pants. Was it that big before? I should have been paying more attention and not staring at the ceiling. Fuck, it’s enormous.

“Where does it hurt?” He repeats the question, but my brain is foggy, lost in a cloud of lust. I swallow.

“Answer me, Camryn or this stops.”

I point to the part of my thigh where the tattoo is starting to appear. “Here.”

Stone shakes his head, eyes laser-focused on me.

“Little liar. Show me. Cut the little girl shit and show me.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, my voice rising. “I’m not a little girl.”

“Then stop acting like it. Tell me the truth. I can smell your arousal, Countess.”

Holy shit.

“You can claim to hate me, but your pussy doesn’t lie. You’re dripping on my chair, fucking weeping for me to teach you a lesson with my cock.”

Each word adds to my arousal because Iwanthim to teach me a lesson. I want him to fuck me right here, knowing that he may reject me again. Knowing that I should stay away from his mercurial attitude, but my libido doesn’t care. My hips shift, unconsciously lifting off the chair a little, searching for his cock, his fingers, anything he wants to put inside me, but the mockery in his eyes stops me from telling him the truth. “You’re an asshole,” I snarl, before looking up at the ceiling, trying to keep myself from trembling.

“Scream your hatred for me as loud as you want while I fuck you, I don’t mind. I’ll take all your rage. Now open your legs and show me where it hurts.”

His insults shouldn’t make me wet, but the look and those eyes draw me in. Fine, motherfucker. He wants me to show him? I’ll show him. I slide my hand down to my pussy and over my panties, grazing my clit. His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. The curse that slips from his lips is guttural and sexy as hell.

“Fuck, Countess. Show me more.”

I pull the elastic leg band to the side, exposing myself to him. Cool air hits me, and I can feel the moisture leaking out, sliding down between my ass crack. He sets down the tattoo gun and rolls his chair closer. The hungry way he’s watching me makes me close my legs, shocked, embarrassed almost, by the amount of wetness I can feel oozing out of me. “Oh my god.”

“Open your fucking legs. Wider. You want to show me your messy cunt, then I’m going to watch.”

I grip the arm of the seat and do as he says, re-opening my legs, stretching the elastic as far as it can go, opening myself up to his focus. My chest hurts from holding my breath. The waistband is digging into my skin, but I don’t care. I want to be nasty. For him.

“Touch your pussy, make the pain go away while I finish the tattoo.”

I’ve never done anything like this. Never masturbated in front of a man, and he’s all but daring me to do it. Daring me to be lewd and as obscene as possible. I want to be reckless and rash.

“Don’t get shy now, Countess,” he says, continuing picking up the machine, adding paint to my tattoo. “Take some of the pain away. Fuck yourself.”

I do what he says, fingering my clit while he adds details. The pain feels even farther away, the pleasure coming to center stage.

He licks his lips, glancing at my pussy while wiping away ink. “Good girl, keep going.”

I swirl my fingers around, listening to the wet sounds my pussy makes. All the while I watch him. His eyes don’t leave my tattoo, dabbing away at the ink, but his words keep me going, keep me on a knife’s edge.

“Slower, Countess. Take your time.”

He finishes the tattoo, and then I watch as he cleans it, applying a clear gel and another transparent bandage.

As soon as he’s done, he sets down the machine and rolls his stool forward, getting closer. The feel of his fingers through my folds makes me arch my back and cry out. I close my thighs around his wrist, wanting to trap his hand.

“Open, Countess. I need room to destroy you.”