Page 43 of Whips and Chains (Saint View Murder Squad #2)

Though how he could keep his eyes off her exposed tits and the sheet slipping down her thighs so I could get my fingers in between them was beyond me.

“I’ve got some things I need to sort out this morning,” he told her.

She swallowed hard. “Do you have a client?”

I paused my assault on her clit, waiting to hear his answer.

“No. I’ve cleared my schedule for the next week.”

I let out a sigh of relief I didn’t deserve. It was bad enough I got jealous watching Violet touch him. I was going to give myself an aneurism if I let myself think about his clients all over him.

The vision of other women, other men, trailing their hands all over his body, wrapping their fingers and mouths around his cock had me suddenly wanting to punch holes in the wall.

But I took a deep breath, pressing my mouth down on Violet’s shoulder so I didn’t say something stupid.

Like begging him to get back into bed and start fucking my ass the way he had with Violet last night.

The thought was so fleeting and hot it seared.

The part of me that was still firmly clinging to being a complete virgin when it came to guys quickly dumped a bucket of cold water over me.

As if to prove the fact, my morning wood found its way between Violet’s thick thighs, searching for her entrance.

Like I needed it to prove I was still straight.

Fucking hell, I was so not straight. Straight men didn’t lie here, getting as turned on by his body as I was by hers.

He needed to put a fucking shirt on.

“Levi.”

He also needed to stop saying my name, because even his voice got me going.

“What?” I snapped at him, instantly regretting it because it wasn’t his fault I was having a midlife crisis. Or a bi awakening. Or whatever the hell this was.

Was I into all guys now?

No.

Just him.

Fabulous.

Whip seemed like he was going to say something different, but the harshness in my tone had him shaking his head. “Fuck her good.”

I nodded, knowing that hadn’t been what he was going to say at all, but I’d ruined it by being a dickhead.

He kissed Violet goodbye. “I’m going to go find X and check on him. Make sure he got rid of that body.”

She put a hand up on his cheek, holding him to her, making the second kiss last longer. “Thank you.”

He nodded and walked out of my room, closing the door behind him.

I rolled Violet onto her back and covered her body with mine. She spread her legs instantly for me, and I settled there, my hips against hers, dick sliding through her wet folds and gently inside her.

Her fingers traced over my chest while I warmed my dick inside her, not thrusting, just needing to connect with her.

There were so many things we needed to talk about. But just being inside her, staring down at her was enough for now.

Until Whip brought X back, there was no point thinking about what we had agreed to let Violet do. That was a plan for the four of us to come up with together.

Her fingers traced over the tattoo of her name. Her voice turned breathy with something that sounded like amazement. “That’s my name on your chest, Levi. In permanent ink.”

I caught her hand, holding it over the artwork I’d etched into my skin for her. “That’s your name on my heart. And it was already there, long before I inked it.”

Her eyes watered.

“I’m in love with you, Violet,” I admitted softly.

“So fucking in love I can barely breathe when you aren’t around.

I always have been. I fell in love with you with every letter you wrote.

Every word.” I touched my lips to hers. “I know Whip said last night he can’t lose you. But fuck, Vi, neither can I.”

A tear rolled silently down her cheek.

I brushed it away. “Don’t cry.”

She smiled. “I’m not. I’m happy.” She pressed up, kissing me back. “I love you too, Levi. I always have.”

A vise I hadn’t realized was around my chest suddenly freed me from its grip, and I felt like I could take a deep breath for the first time in months.

Maybe years.

I buried my face in her neck, kissing her there, moving slowly inside her, not an inch of space between us as me warming my dick turned into making love to her.

It was soft and gentle, her staring up at me, quiet moans on her lips that I kissed away or replaced with my own. Her body melded to mine, until we fit perfectly together, both of us building the other up into an orgasm, me holding mine off until she was ready to come with me.

There was no screaming each other’s names. No wild bucking of hips or slapping of thighs.

It was just gentle whispers from my lips, promising her over and over again I loved her and I always would.

And her promising the same in return.

There was no going back. No changing my mind. She was mine. Maybe she was Whip’s and X’s as well, but it didn’t matter, because loving her was all I wanted. And that meant giving her whatever she needed.

If she needed them too, then that’s what I’d give her.

“Levi,” she whispered. “What are you doing at this club? Your art…”

I shrugged. “The club is what I know.”

“But not what makes you happy.”

Wasn’t that the truth. I loved my brothers. But I was too fucking old for them to be my whole world. Especially when the woman beneath me had wholeheartedly stolen that position.

What I wanted was that little house with a picket fence and sure, a motorcycle in the driveway.

But my woman and our kids inside.

And my art on the walls.

And on her skin.

“I want to tattoo,” I admitted. I followed the lines of her body with my palms. “Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to mark up all this pretty virgin skin with a tattoo gun.”

She smiled. “Do it.”

I laughed at her. “Do it? You’re just going to let me draw all over you in permanent ink? What if I draw X’s face right in the middle of your back?”

She laughed, and the sound was sweet. “He’d probably love that, and I would congratulate you on your realistic portrait skills.”

I grinned and moved my hand between us, cupping her sweet, bare pussy. “What if I tattooed you here?”

“What would you put there?”

I answered in a heartbeat without even thinking about it. “My name.”

She moaned. “Do it.”

But that was so permanent, and in a place on her body that was so intimate. “You’ll have to ask me a lot more times than once for me to do that to you.”

“How many times do I have to ask?”

I shrugged. “At least three.”

She opened her mouth. “Tattoo—”

I stopped her lips with my finger. “At least a week apart.”

She pouted. “I could just get Dax to do it.”

My gaze darkened. “If you want me to fucking kill him, then sure, you could ask him.”

She laughed, leaning up to kiss me again. “I’m joking! Nobody is tattooing my pussy except for you.”

I groaned, wishing she hadn’t said that. Because now it was all I was going to think about. Fucking hell, I had a tattoo gun right there in the damn drawer. I could do it right now, claim her with my name in permanent ink.

But then I wouldn’t be able to go down on her.

And that seemed like a pretty good consolation prize. So instead of arguing, I put my mouth where I really fucking hoped I would one day get to put my name.