by Bella J
But when I stumbled back into the arms of another man, I knew it was Ink. I knew it from the indescribable relief that gushed over me, taking me back to the day he carried me after hell delivered me to him—beaten and broken. Torn apart.
Now, he was carrying me again, clutching me tightly against his chest and letting me feel his warmth in the comfort of his arms. As my tears soaked into his shirt, I hated that I had become this dependent on someone else. I hated that I was weak, unable to fight the demons that refused to let go.
I heard him shut the door behind us, and I lifted my head, realizing he had carried me all the way to my room even though it only felt like a single moment.
“You okay, babe?” He sat on my bed, still holding me against him, resting me on his lap.
“I don’t know what happened. I felt someone touch me, and the next thing I knew, I was back there, in that room.”
He tightened his hold around me. “That fucker had no right to touch you.”
I shook my head. “I think he was just trying to move past, trying to make his way through the crowd.”
“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t have to touch you.”
I didn’t move my arms from around his neck. I was clutching him for dear life, refusing to let go as if he was the last lifeline I had left. He stroked up and down my arm, his touch soft and gentle. I never would have guessed the Ink I had known for so long could be this kind and caring. His fingertips traced along my shoulders, warm and inviting—nothing like the cruel touch of the devil’s hand on my broken body.
“It’s different with you.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed. “When you touch me, it doesn’t hurt.”
“I will never hurt you, Neon. Ever.”
“You know what’s strange?”
“What?”
I nestled my face deeper against his chest. “I believe you.”
He snickered. “Yeah, that is strange. You know what’s even stranger?”
“What?”
“The fact that you haven’t thrown a shoe at my head for the last seventy-two hours.”
Both of us chuckled, and the anxiety that lingered in my bones started to dissipate. Little by little, I felt myself relax in his arms, embracing the security it offered.
“Ink.”
“Hmm.”
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
I glanced up at him from under my lashes. “Make me feel like I can breathe without it hurting?”
His arms tightened around me, squeezing me against him. “I dunno. But what I do know, if there’s one person in this world I want to be the air to…it’s you.”
My heart skipped a beat, my chest warm and insides coiled tight. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had me feeling this way, like I wanted his touch—needed it, even. For the first time in so long, my body felt alive, rather than frozen and numb.
He cupped my cheek, and I could feel his affection radiate from his touch through to my soul. “You’re everything to me, Neon. Everything and more.”
Sucking on my bottom lip, I leaned my head back down against his shoulder, curling into him. It made me feel safe, being so close to him. His arms, his presence, it became my barrier, my fortress against the world. It made me feel protected—untouchable, and it was a feeling I instantly became reliant on. Without it, I’d be lost, drowning in a world the ghosts of my past had created.
For the longest time we just sat there. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The silence around us was loud enough, saying everything that needed to be said. His hands didn’t still for a second. Soft and gentle fingertips caressed my skin in slow circles. The longer his touch remained, the more aware I became of how it seemed to affect me…my body. I was no longer numb, and it felt good.
Shifting on his lap, I placed a kiss on the skin of his neck. The familiar earthy scent that clung to him draped around me, and the subtle warmth of desire that pulsed through my blood made me bold enough to press my lips harder against his tattooed flesh.
“Neon, what are you doing?” His voice dipped low, soft and husky.
“I need you.”
His body tensed against mine, every muscle rigid. “What are you saying?”
I stilled, breathing against his neck. “I want to be with you.”
“It’s too soon.” He pulled back, yet I could see desire flicker in his eyes.
“It’s not too soon. I want to at least try.”
He wiped a palm down his beard, forehead creased with uncertainty. “Neon—”
“Please, Ink. I need to know how broken I really am. And there’s no one I trust myself with as much as you.”
He pinched his eyes closed, shaking his head. “I don’t know if—”
“Please.” Desperation dripped from my words, the need to feel whole again beating to the rhythm of my heart.
“Neon, there’s nothing I want more than to be with you.”
“Then be with me.” I placed my hand on the side of his face, a single tear slipping down my cheek. “Just try…please.”
I shifted, bringing my body closer to his, our lips hovering a breath apart.
Worry swirled in his cognac irises. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
He was hesitant; I could feel it. I had to try to make the first move, to let him know that it was okay—that I was okay. Slowly, I eased my lips against his, barely touching, afraid to move too quickly. His scent, his touch, his every breath cloaked me, wrapping me in this bubble where the world outside no longer existed. It was just us. No past. No future. Just now.
Pulling back an inch, his eyes searched mine. “You need to promise me you’ll stop me when it’s too much.”
I nodded.
“Say it, Neon. I need you to say it.”
I licked my lips. “I promise.”
Pressing his lips slightly harder with a deepened kiss, I relaxed my body against his, keeping my eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge anything else. Just him. Just us. This moment.
While his tongue danced with mine, exploring and tasting, I reached out slipped my shoes off my feet. One by one, they fell to the floor, Ink’s hand moving down my side, across my hip, and settling on my thigh.
Taking his sweet time, he kept kissing me, allowing my body to relax and settle into the moment.
“You okay?” he whispered against my lips, and I nodded.
He shifted, wrapping an arm around my waist and gently laid me down on the bed, his lips not wavering from mine for a second. For the longest time, he sat beside me, just kissing me—slow, steady, his kiss silky and easy. There was nothing rushed about it, like he was trying to give me the time I needed, easing me into what was about to happen.
He tore his lips from mine as he sat up, pulling his shirt over his head. I remained still as I watched him, his naked skin beckoning to be touched. The art that covered his chest was mesmerizing, telling the story of his life—the secrets of his past which he willingly shared with me. Something no one else here knew. Just me. I felt connected to him in a way I’d never experienced before, like I was the only one who understood the ink on his flesh.
He laced his fingers at the seam of my shirt as he leaned over me, fingertips brushing against my skin. He paused, eyes scrutinizing me, searching for the tiniest sign that I might be hesitating. But I wasn’t. So far, all I felt was the need to have him touch me and kiss me more. I sat up, giving him the permission he needed to pull my shirt over my head.
Not wearing a bra after Red started on my tattoo, I lay on the bed half-naked and hyperaware of all the scars that covered my body. It couldn’t have been a pretty sight, especially to a man like him, who was used to bedding beautiful and adventurous women. Instinctively, I moved to wrap my arms around myself to hide my scars, and to cover the hideous marks that marred me with imperfections. But Ink reached out, grabbing my wrists, stopping me.
“Don’t.” Keeping my gaze, he placed a finger on a mark just below my breast, an a
ngry piece of puckered flesh the snake burned, using me as a human goddamn ashtray. “Never hide these from me. To me, it’s battle-scars, reminders of how strong you are, and what you survived.”
With slow, leisurely strokes, his finger traveled from one scar to the other, exploring all the jagged edges and rough skin, my body covered in healed burns and cuts. It seemed like he was trying to memorize it all, making all my imperfections his. I had to chew on my bottom lip to keep myself from falling apart while I lay there, allowing him to see all the broken pieces of me.
He stood, and I watched as he slipped out of his pants. There was nothing but heated anticipation spreading through my core when I saw how hard he was—his body ready to claim mine.
“Remember,” he said softly, “you can stop me any time.”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off him as he undid the button of my jeans before slipping his fingers into the sides, slowly pulling the denim together with my panties over my hips and down my legs.
This time, I had to close my eyes, insecurity starting to break through, threatening to drown the excitement. The thought of him looking at my broken and flawed body had me swallowing hard, like shards of glass were stuck in my throat.
“Neon, look at me.”
I inhaled deeply, hoping some air would calm the storm that was starting to rage inside me.
“Neon.” His voice was fiercer this time. “I need you to look at me. Okay? Look at me.”
I opened my eyes, blinking back tears, staring at him as he got onto the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight.
“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you? I see a strong woman—a woman who survived hell. A woman who needs to wear her scars with nothing but pride. A beautiful fucking woman.”
He wrapped his fingers around my ankle, lifting my leg and placed delicate kisses on my skin. With each kiss, he moved his mouth along the inside of my leg, heat spreading all the way up my body, settling in my core.
For a moment, I closed my eyes and focused on what his touch felt like—tender, soft, like silk brushing across my flesh. The higher up his touch moved, the more I felt desire starting from a flicker, working up to a burning flame. With every stroke of his hand, my skin grew hungrier for his touch. His lips reached the inside of my thigh, and he steadied himself on his knees between my legs. He leaned down and brushed his lips against my hip, and a shiver went up my spine. His broad shoulders covered my waist as large, calloused hands caressed my thighs. “You need to tell me what you want. You need to guide me, here.” His breath was warm against my skin, a subtle reminder that there was nothing cold about his touch, nothing cruel about his intentions. His every move and every kiss were amplified with nothing but affection.
I sucked in a breath when his hands cupped my sides, his tongue lapping against my skin just below my navel.
I reached down and wove my hands through his hair. “I just need you to be with me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. I trust you.”
A shudder wracked through me as he stroked a single finger between my legs. His caress was hesitant, his fear of hurting me echoing in his wary touch—afraid I’d break. Crack. Shatter into pieces. It was unreal to think a ruthless, merciless man who lived a life of brutality was capable of such tenderness. I could see it in his eyes, the worry he felt as he studied me with intent. It was only when my hips lifted, searching for more, that his hands explored me with more confidence. He never took his eyes off mine, and with each passing moment, his irises darkened, a reflection of his own desire. His body was already hard and primed to take me, yet he didn’t attempt to rush it—to rush me.
Another slow stroke against my sex, this time slipping deeper, and my legs twitched slightly, instinctively wanting to close.
He felt it and placed his palm against my thigh, the warmth of his hand fighting to keep me here with him. “Feel me, Neon. Feel my touch. Memorize it, because I’m the only man who will ever touch you again. No one else. I promise you, it will always just be me.”
I nodded, sucking on my bottom lip when he palmed himself, stroking the head of his cock through my slit. Again and again, he kept rubbing against my sensitive folds, merely nudging at my entrance, taking his time, allowing me to adjust to the feeling of him on the verge of claiming my body.
The flame of desire flared within me. Every touch, letting me feel his skin against mine, he executed with leisurely restraint, coaxing my body into the here and now, keeping it from slipping back to the past.
“I want to make you feel good again. I want to make you feel what it’s like to be with a man who cares for you, a man who wants to treat you like his queen.”
He kept his cock against my sex then reached out to palm my breast. My back arched, a fingertip brushing against my nipple, sending ripples of excitement down my spine. It was like a thousand butterflies had been awakened in my core, desire fluttering wildly as my body responded to his touch.
Still on his knees, he shifted closer, his hard, thick thighs pressing against the insides of mine. Reaching between us, guiding the head of his cock inside me, I tensed and closed my eyes, breathing in deeply. The white room was drawing closer. It lurked in the far corners of my mind, and it threatened to come to the surface, to ruin what was about to happen between Ink and me. Something that was meant to be beautiful.
“Neon, open your eyes.” He pulled away, his finger replacing his cock at my entrance, drawing circles against my sensitive flesh. “Baby, look at me.”
I opened my eyes again and chewed on my bottom lip, afraid the fear would become strong enough to smother the flames. “I’m scared,” I whispered.
“We don’t have to do this.” His hand was gone like my body had burned him. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have—”
“No, I want to do this. I just…I’m scared I won’t be good enough for you. I’m scared I won’t be able to give you what you need.”
“What I need is you. All of you, just as you are. That’s all I need.”
Tears stung the back of my eyes, and I clenched my jaw, desperate to keep them from falling. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you more than this, Ink. I’ll never be…adventurous, or spontaneous when it comes to sex. Even if all the broken pieces are put back together, there will always be cracks ready to shatter under the slightest pressure.”
“Listen to me, and you better listen good.” His finger slipped inside my pussy, and my hips bucked. “This is all I want. You are all I want.”
I shook my head. “All those women you’ve been with—”
“Are nothing compared to you. You hear me? Nothing.”
The wetness of my sorrow slipped down the side of my face. I so desperately wanted to be with him. After everything, I needed to feel what it was like to be with someone who didn’t want to break me, who didn’t want to make me scream. I was desperate to feel whole again. But I was so scared of disappointing him. And now that I had finally realized how much I needed him, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him because I was unable to give him what he needed.
Ink sat up. “Give me your hand.”
“What?”
He took my wrist, guiding my hand between my legs. “Touch yourself.”
“Ink, what—”
“Do you trust me?” With penetrating brown eyes, he kept my gaze. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
Not letting go of my wrist, he placed my hand between my legs. “You need to take control again. Take control of your own body, your own pleasure.”
One of his fingers pressed down on mine, my fingertip touching my clit. “Take it. Take back control.”
He kept my gaze as his hand and fingers guided me, touching myself. “Make it feel good.”
Tiny circles were all I could manage, my finger pressing lightly against the sensitive bud while his hand remained on mine. Once again, the flicker of desire started to burn brightly, my body climbing and legs t
rembling.
“That’s it, baby. Keep looking at me while you touch yourself.”
The heat between my legs increased, my hips moving, finding the rhythm needed to guide me toward the promise of pleasure.
His grip on my hand tightened, and he guided my finger lower, letting it prod against my entrance. My back arched, and I closed my eyes for a second, my mind relaxing as every muscle in my body tensed.
“Jesus, you look fucking beautiful right now.”
I pressed harder, drawing circles faster, my arousal coating my hand as the need for release grew stronger.
“Make yourself come, baby. Take your own pleasure.”
It started at the back of my neck, slowly trickling down my spine and settling in my core.
“There you go. Make it feel good.” He let go of my hand, and I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I was almost there, two breaths away from erupting.
“Ink, I need you.”
“No. This is all you, baby.”
I shook my head, opening my eyes. “Please. I need you to fall with me.”
With hooded eyes and dark irises, there was no mistaking his desire. His need. But he was so determined to make this all about me, he would put his own desires aside so I could get through this. But I needed him to need me. I needed him to want me, to make me feel less broken.
I sat up and reached for him, pulling him down to me. As I settled back, he nestled his hips between my legs, his hard shaft pressing against my sex. Our lips collided, and I could feel his need flow from his kiss, his hunger exposed by the way his tongue lapped against mine.
The heat that spread from his body to mine felt exquisite, skin against skin. It was better than I ever could have imagined.
He placed his forehead against mine, taking rapid breaths, and reached down between us. “I need you to be sure.”
I laced my fingers at the back of his neck. “I’m sure.”
He eased forward, slow and unrushed, guiding his cock to my entrance, and I held my breath.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” he urged, and I did. I didn’t look away.