Page 20 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

Wesley

I wanted so desperately to tell her everything.

How her scent spiraled me to places I wasn’t sure I was ready for, her smile alone inflicting her mark on me .

I ached for her heart to mirror the inconceivable throb inside my chest. A constant reminder of the bond that currently wasn’t .

It warped my thoughts, rattled my self-control.

I needed to be with her. To be inside her.

Thinking about the sounds of her as she came over my fingers the previous day made my dick throb.

Skye had no idea what making her come as we watched the couple fuck did to me.

Each of my senses catered for simultaneously.

It was like nothing I had ever experienced.

She couldn’t deny she enjoyed it. Her juices dripped over my hand as I sent her over the edge, speaking to an untamed kink just waiting to be explored. A kink I liked very much . To watch.

Yesterday had turned into a fucking wet dream come true.

Before it turned to shit and we nearly died.

I’d barely held it together, having not used my magic in that way before. I didn’t even know it was possible. It seemed being around Skye had awoken another side of it. A protective side that would do anything to keep her safe.

I would go to the end of the world for her.

It was an acutely frustrating thing to have her not feel the bond. And to know my brother had something to do with it was something I could not comprehend.

I barely remembered him.

From what I was told, we were six years old, playing in the scrub near our house.

All I remember were his screams as he tumbled down the well, into the inky depths below.

No one knew it was there, buried under seasonal leaves in the dirt.

Sometimes I dreamed about it, heard his screams, but I never saw his face.

Memories buried so deep I couldn’t dredge them to the surface.

I’d needed a distraction, so buried myself in bookwork, only to find myself unable to concentrate. My mind continuously returned to Skye.

I peered down at the sketch before me, something I had been working on in my quiet moments. Pencil filled the cream paper, lines and different shades of gray, turning a picture in my mind into reality. Finally.

The door to Inked opened, and I looked up to find Skye standing in the entrance. She wore faded blue jeans with rips in them, exposing slices of her skin beneath the material.

Damn. Her relaxed composure was a far contrast from her entry to the shop only yesterday.

I couldn’t help the smile that broke over my face. “Hey you.”

She closed the door behind her, stepping further into the shop, burying her hands in her jacket pockets. “Hey, are you busy?”

I flipped the front page over, hiding my work. “It can wait.”

As I made to stand up, my hand clipped the sketch pad, causing it to fall, the pad hitting the ground face up, my drawing in clear view.

Before I could bend to grab it, Skye beat me to it.

“This is stunning. Did you draw this?” She looked up at me expectantly, her gaze pulling me into her world like it always did.

“Yeah, do you like it?”

“It’s a dove .” Her words breezed from her in awe.

I nodded once. “It is.”

She seemed surprised, words not coming easily to her. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you drew this. Why?”

For you. To declare to the entire world that everything I do from here on would be for you.

Instead, I kept my cool, casually leaning against the front of my desk, my hands gripping it on either side of me. Anything to keep me from touching her. Fuck, I wanted to touch her.

“The comment you made about wanting a tattoo of a dove. I was just playing around, it’s stupid. Forget it.”

I went to ask for it back, but she grabbed my wrist, pausing my motion.

Her grip on my arm spiked both my heart rate and my dick, the intensity of her touch spiraling my insides into a fucking mess.

I was gripping the last strands of my self-restraint, teetering on the cliff edge by my fingers. Holding on for her.

Her fingers molded into my skin, her petite hand barely able to wrap around my wrist.

“You did this for me.”

Her statement held so much weight behind it. It pressed heavily on my chest.

I didn’t know what to say, her reaction both catching me off guard and filling me with pride. I hoped she would like it, but this was deeper. Like she realized the effort I had gone to.

Like it meant something.

“I thought if you decided not to get it tattooed, then at least it might look cool in a frame.”

Her gaze burned into mine, both the intensity between us and our proximity capturing my every sense. She swiftly objected, her head nodding to the side. “No, I love it. I want it.”

I arched a brow. “The sketch in a frame?”

A smile touched her lips. “No, the tattoo.”

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “You want me to ink you?”

She nodded, her smile turning so wide a dimple indented her left cheek.

“What, now ?” A wad of air bobbed in the back of my throat, and my mouth turned dry. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more right now. To have her skin under my hands, my ink staining her, imprinting her.

Her thumb grazed the underside of my wrist, and I nearly lost my shit.

“Would you?” she questioned.

Fucking hell. I cleared my throat. “You don’t want to take a day or two to think this through? A few hours even?”

“Nope,” she replied, popping the 'p'.

This girl was unreal. I had been dancing on coals around her, scared to be burned, yet she was open to letting me tattoo her without taking the time to even question it.

I deadpanned her. “Are you for real?”

Skye scanned the small space that was Inked, the business I had built from scratch. “Do you have time to do it now?”

Do. It. Now.

She could have said the words 'fuck me' for all my dick heard as it grew harder by the second.

“Yeah, I’ve got time. I was only doing book work. You’re sure about this?” I asked, hoping like hell she would not change her mind.

She nodded once, releasing my hand and keeping hold of the sketch.

“Ok.” I rubbed the base of my neck, trying to hide the fucking delight soaring inside of me. “Where do you want it?”

Fuck. Bad choice of words.

The corner of her mouth rose as she spoke, a sudden wry look shading her irises. “Here.” Her middle finger moved across the material of the jeans she wore, stopping on the spot between her belly button and hip bone.

There was no denying how intimate this would be.

Pull your fucking shit together.

“Ok, if you go lay down over there, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

She did what I asked, giving me the distraction I needed to discretely adjust myself in my pants as I gathered everything I needed. I turned my head, looking at her over my shoulder, catching her blatantly staring at my ass.

Stay professional.

I arched a brow. “Do you want it exactly as I’ve drawn it? No color?”

Her blue-green gaze flooded my senses with her. “Exactly the same, only smaller.”

After confirming the exact size, I made my way over to her. “If you just lay back, I need to sterilize the area. You will need to unzip your pants a little.”

A fleeting look passed between us, the air in the room suddenly growing a pulse.

She unzipped her jeans, moving them ever-so-slightly down her hips, revealing her underwear. I clenched my jaw at how sheer the material was, the sight of the thin trail of hair like an ancient curse calling to my soul. I’d felt it yesterday. The line of hair veering south like a landing strip.

I dragged my eyes from the soft fabric that I knew would never leave my mind until I got to see more.

Would I get to touch her there again? To taste her?

This was a really bad idea.

Skye then lifted her top up, enough to expose the supple skin I was about to etch my ink into.

Fuck. My. Life.

After going through my normal motions, I was ready to begin. “This might sting a little,” I warned. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah, do it.” She stared up at the ceiling, focused hard on something.

“Take a deep breath,” I encouraged. “Try to be still.”

The moment I inflicted her skin, she gasped, but thankfully didn’t move.

As I inked the outline of the dove, it took all my will to remain professional.

My free arm constantly brushed her skin as I worked, the proximity to her, the act of this entire scenario engulfing me in a way I had never let emotions do before.

I wanted her so badly, to hold her, to comfort her.

Without this blanket of confusion constantly smothering us.

I lost myself in thoughts of her, of what we could be.

Time passed quickly, adrift in these thoughts.

She did well, coping with the pain better than I thought she would. I hated having to tell her there was more to come.

“Just a heads up, I need to do some shading. It tends to be more painful.”

She lifted her head, staring down at me for a moment, her lips pursing as she blew out a slow breath.

“That’s it, deep breaths for me,” I encouraged.

As I added the shading that I knew would make the piece of art come to life, her hand clamped around my forearm of my free hand.

“It burns,” she said, wincing.

“Hang in there. Give me a little longer and it’s done.”

Time dragged, but I soaked up every single moment of it. Every touch. Every gasp.

When I was done, I sat back, admiring my work. “What do you think?” I motioned for her to step in front of the mirror.

Skye stood, studying her new tattoo. “I love it. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” And I meant it. I would gladly repeat that moment, given the opportunity. I couldn’t believe she just let me do that. Had I somehow missed the memo about Skye being so impulsive?

I had to admit, I liked it.

Skye came closer, staring warily at me. “You look like you’re lost in thought.”

I covered her new tattoo with a bandage, careful of my hand’s placement.

“Yeah,” I said, standing again and resting against the front counter. The edge dug into my spine. “Just got a lot on my mind.”