Page 15 of The Black Lotus (Fatal Florals Duet #2)

“Is this even sanitary?” My teeth chatter from the cold sensation that envelops me, my body not knowing how to react to what it’s being put through.

“I’m wearing gloves and the hand I’m tattooing with isn’t anywhere near the mess you're making,” he reassures me.

“How are you even doing both at once?”

“You let me worry about the skills you didn’t know I had and focus on coming all over me.”

Swipe!

“Fuck!” I grunt, the pain tearing my high from me. “Please tell me we’re almost done.”

“Halfway there, baby; you’re doing so good. But I will have you screaming for me again before we’re finished.”

Before I have a chance to ask what he means, he thrusts the toy back into me and I buck off the table, too sensitive to handle anymore. “Aster,” I gasp, “I can’t.” Tears flood my eyes.

He places his hand on my lower abdomen, my pussy tightening around the toy. “You can. And you will.”

In. Out. The toy goes tortiously slow, pleasure melding into pain, my cunt sore, unable to go on, desperate for a break. But, true to his word, just as the needle presses against my skin once more, he quickens his pace with the toy.

Sending shock wave after shock wave of pleasure through my system.

This pain isn’t as delicious as the other times he’s sent my body into another world, lighting every nerve on fire.

The sensation from the rubber cock wars with the now pleasurable needle, confusing my body and blending the two sensations into one.

I don’t think my body will be able to get off without some type of pain accompanying it.

Which worries me since I really enjoy sex with Aster, but adding knife or blood play into it every time, I don’t think my body could handle that kind of scarring.

“Your blood glistens so beautifully against your tortured skin.”

I glance at Aster's beautifully concentrated face. His eyes are dark with unhinged desire, his brows pinched in concentration and pain. I can tell he wants to taste me, his eyes glancing at my glistening cunt as his tongue slowly traces his bottom lip. Blood and cum, his favorite combination, but he’s restraining himself.

Trying to quickly finish the tattoo without compromising his vision.

I’m on the verge of finishing again myself.

The needle stops buzzing just as I explode. My body spasms, euphoria consuming me, locking my body in place. I want to look at my tattoo, I want to see what magic Aster has created, but my body trembles, stuck in the position I’ve been in for hours.

“Hold my hand,” he says, unlocking my restraints as I wrap my fingers around his, slowly sitting up while his other hand rests on my back.

I look down at my leg, seeing splashes of colors that blend seamlessly together.

I’m surprised all the movements I was making didn’t make it look like a blob .

I lift my leg ever so slightly to get a better look, almost getting a charley horse from bending my body in ways it rejects after being tied up across Aster’s table, so I stop and impatiently wait.

The design I chose embodies our journey together, and although it hasn't been long, it has been memorable and traumatic.

Having it tattooed on me forever shows the commitment I am making to not only Aster, but to myself.

We are partners in crime now, and even if we are taken from one another in this life, we will find each other in the next .

Nothing and no one can separate us from each other.

He is my fox, and I am his vixen. We will eliminate anyone in our path, forging our own way through this world.

Helping me off the table, Aster walks me to the full length mirror in the corner of the attic. I nearly collapse seeing his beautiful artwork on my leg, my hands covering my mouth as tears threaten to fall.

“Oh, Aster...” I whisper, turning around to face him. “It’s perfect.”

He swipes a tear from my cheek, kissing the spot gently, turning me back to face the mirror as he wraps his arms around my waist so we look at the piece together.

It’s a blue rose next to a black lotus with spots of purple bridging the middle.

The rose is wrapped in barbed wire all the way down to the stem, an outline of a black and white sheep with spots of watercolor red resting at the bottom, and the lotus appears pristine, except for a few bruised petals, with a sitting fox in a wash of reds, oranges, and yellows at the base.

“I wanted to add some red on the lamb to show how you’ve always had a taste for blood,” Aster says, booping the tip of my nose.

“Just took a blood thirsty fox to awaken it,” I purr, turning around to place my hand on his chest.

He leans down, placing a soft kiss against my lips. “Now I crave something else.” He grips my waist, and lifts me effortlessly, walking us back to the table to place me back on it as I wrap my legs around his waist.

He tears off his shirt, primal hunger tensing every muscle. Ripping his pants down, he jams his cock into me hard and deep.

I scream out his name while my fingers rake down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. My tattooed leg hangs freely as he lifts the other and thrusts deeper, stronger, careful not to hit it.

“No toy can satisfy you the way I can,” he grunts.

“No toy is as big as you,” I gasp, “or can go as deep.”

His hands grip my hips with bruising force, tugging me closer to the edge until my ass hangs off, going further in than he ever has before, making my whole body lift off the table and my hands wrap around his neck.

Up and down I bounce, his hands gripping my ass to keep me suspended on him.

He walks us to the wall under the window, my back slamming against it.

My moans and his grunts combine to create a hauntingly beautiful symphony.

Over and over he pounds into me, my desire rising higher and higher until we explode together, bathing the room in our cries of pleasure.

Panting and breathless, he slowly lowers me to the ground, holding on to make sure I don’t fall over. I lean my head on his sweaty chest, and he presses his lips against the top of my head.

Our bliss is interrupted by Aster's phone going off, the alert telling us someone has entered the property. My breath locks in my chest. Both of us start panicking, grabbing our clothes and putting them back on as quickly as we can. I’m careful not to touch my tattoo as I peer over his shoulder and see someone with cinnamon hair enter our house.

Their mouth is hidden under a mask, the curves outlined in the tight black clothing they’re wearing.

My shock quickly morphs to rage. A girl is in our home.

Who the fuck does she think she is and how did she get in?

She makes her way into our living room and steals Aster's old and ratty stocking he got when he was at the orphanage. He hasn’t told me much about his time there, but I know it was bad and that his stocking is important to him.

It’s well past Christmas, but with everything going on, we haven’t had the time or energy to take down our stockings, even though they were the only things we managed to put up.

She grabs an envelope out of her jacket and places it on the mantle before turning around and looking right at the camera, waving Aster's stocking in the air, then tucking it into her leather jacket.

Aster's hand tightens into fist as she leaves the house, he clicks a button behind another picture and the stairs begin to fall. He storms down the steps to chase after the culprit, leaving me to follow behind my raging boyfriend.