Hot Ink

by Carrie Ann Ryan;Cari Quinn;Sidney Bristol

  “A lot of good memories here,” Kit said softly.

  “Yeah.”

  “I used to have this dream that I’d start to live in here, above the shop, and I’d get you to make me pasta.” He chuckled.

  “My pasta is pretty good. I’m not sure you could afford it.”

  He looked at her kind of funny, sort of smiling, sort of sad and…something else. She couldn’t look away from him. It was as if he’d snagged her in a spell, divesting her of her ability to move. Her pulse kicked up as she realized she was caught in his web.

  Kit took two small steps toward her, his boots scuffing against the floor. The only sound louder was her pounding heart.

  He cupped her cheek and she felt that same old jolt of electricity that curled her toes. She knew how this would end, but she didn’t care. Kit lowered his face slowly and set his lips against hers. It was a chaste kiss, a simple press of skin on skin, and yet, it stirred those old emotions in her chest and butterflies swarmed in her stomach.

  She hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him closer.

  Fuck the heartbreak.

  Fuck the doubts.

  And fuck her better judgment.

  She kissed him back, suckling his bottom lip until his mouth softened against hers. He wrapped one arm around her waist and his free hand dug into her hair. The kiss took on a savage, primal feel as his teeth grazed her lips and he deepened the kiss. She tasted him as he thrust his tongue onto her mouth, crushing their bodies together.

  He wasn’t the lanky, unsure kid anymore.

  Kit was a man, with a man’s taste and knowledge.

  The hand at her waist dropped to her ass. He squeezed and pressed her against him.

  God, yes, she wanted him. Had never stopped, even if it made her pathetic, he’d been the best thing to happen to her.

  A loud clang from the alley broke the moment. Kit tore his mouth from hers and they stood in the dim light, panting and staring at the window. Lust pumped through her veins, but her better sense was rearing its head. Rough boards and a dirty floor weren’t going to work for them. Not with their—tastes.

  * * * *

  Kit prowled after Renee as she led the way into R.S.V.P., the new dungeon in town. Well, new to him. Judging by the many people who stopped to hug her, this was her home-away-from-home. The California dungeons weren’t quite as welcoming. The people nowhere near as friendly. But then again, that was California and at least half of the people were trying to hit it big in the entertainment industry, where looks were everything. For a normal guy like Kit, it was a bit over the top sometimes, but the glitz and glamour were their own fetish.

  He nodded and said his hellos to everyone, conscious of Renee’s gaze never staying on him long. It would land on him then skitter away. They hadn’t said much since the kiss in the apartment. He couldn’t think of anything to say besides, “I want you.” They’d made it through a meal, eaten mostly in tense silence. The undercurrent of desire was pretty hard to ignore, at least for him. Did she feel the same way?

  Renee gave him a brief tour, hitting the high points of the five thousand square foot dungeon. The crowd was already in full swing, with most of the play spaces taken up.

  “Who do you play with?” He stood directly behind her, while they watched an elaborate rope scene that involved three women hoisted on one hard point hanging from the ceiling and several bamboo rods.

  She turned, keeping her voice low. “I’m kind of between partners. I had two regular partners, a Dom and a switch. The Dom collared his other play partner and things got...weird...so I’m keeping my distance. The switch is going into the really busy time of the year for his job, so I’m…partner-less.”

  “Want to play?” He’d been itching to ask. The spark was still there, the attraction sizzled; so what if it wasn’t the meeting he’d had in mind, the important parts still clicked.

  “Um, maybe?” She turned to face him, finally looking him in the eye. He didn’t like the apprehensive way she peered up at him.

  “It’s a yes or no question,” he said.

  Renee bit her lip and glanced toward the doors leading to the social area. He grabbed her hand and led her back to the front of the dungeon, through the doors and to an empty love seat tucked into a corner by itself. Her hand was so small and delicate in his. He placed their palms together and traced the veins on her hand with his finger.

  “Kit…I’m not sure this is a good idea. I just...don’t know.” She was a different person now. The Renee of the past was more devil-may-care. The Renee sitting next to him had the same spunk, but she looked before she leapt.

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She took a deep breath and her gaze became hard. “Is it a good idea to bring up how things used to be when you’re going to leave again? Is it fair to you or me?”

  He didn’t like those questions. Not one bit.

  “Do you ever wonder what might have been?” he asked.

  “Yes.” The answer seemed to be dragged out of her.

  “Then why not?”

  She stared at him.

  He put his elbows on his knees and stared up at her, her hands still in his. “What if…What if the chemistry isn’t there? What if we find out we can’t live without each other? Do you want to seriously close that door because, maybe, it might change our plans?” She might say she couldn’t leave Baton Rouge, but from what he could see, there wasn’t anything there for her. They could travel, and if he could just get a tattoo machine back in her hand, he knew she’d change her mind.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She pulled her hands from his and placed them over her face, peeking between her fingers at him.

  “Well, then the choice is up to you, because to be honest, I didn’t come here for Mick. I came here wanting to see you.” There. It was the truth. He could pretend it was Mick, but the reality was that he’d come home for her. And it just so happened his uncle wasn’t a dickweed anymore. He didn’t know what would happen between Mick and him, but he felt things working out there. Now, if only Renee would see things his way.

  Renee gaped at him. Her mouth opened and closed, while her eyes grew large and round.

  Great. Come clean to the lady and it was his youth all over again. His soul laid bare to a girl with the power to destroy him or build him up. Somehow Renee had always kept him somewhere in the middle. He’d learned to take what he could get and enjoy it, except he wanted more now. And she didn’t seem to want the same.

  “How about you think about it, and I’ll grab a drink?” He stood and took his pride with him to a refrigerator. There was a collection jar inside for the cash. He dropped a few coins in and grabbed a soda.

  This was going to be the post-first-sex for them all over again, wasn’t it? He’d had this silly notion that just because Renee slept with him they were together. She’d crushed that dream, but kept the door open by suggesting a no-strings-or-expectations relationship. Except he’d been all tied up in her, and sometimes he was pretty sure she hadn’t even noticed him. It sucked to be the one more in love. Hell, it sucked to be the only one in love.

  He was a sap. A stupid, love-struck sap who’d never learned his lesson.

  A hand wrapped around his arm. He turned and stared down into Renee’s gaze. Her lip was still pinched between her teeth, and she appeared no more certain about the question.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay…what?”

  Renee stood up a little straighter. “I think we should play. See where this goes.”

  Kit stared at her a moment, going still. If she opened that door, he would barrel through. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve changed.” He edged closer, until their bodies almost touched.

  “No, shit?” She laughed and slapped his chest.

  “Limits?” He had no idea what he’d do once he had her to himself, but he’d come up with something.

  “No needles, gags or blindfolds.” She ticked the three off
on her fingers. Renee always had an issue with control. He could work with that.

  “Safe word?” When they’d first played, she’d used his middle name. What did she use now?

  “Usually I just go with red.” She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “But what if we use Adam, for old time’s sake?”

  “I’d like that.” More than she knew. “What do you think about breath play?”

  “Um. It makes me uneasy, but...maybe. Not this time, okay? Do you want to use my toy bag?”

  He filed the ideas for breath play away for later. This he could work with. His toy bag, however, was back at Mick’s house.

  “Do you have it here?” he asked.

  “I left it in a locker last time. Just have to go get it.” She shrugged.

  “Okay, cool.”

  She turned, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Renee?”

  “What is it?”

  “If we do this, it’s going to get sensual.”

  “You mean it isn’t already?”

  “I just thought we should be up front about our expectations.” Because if they played, he’d have an erection for days.

  “Kit, what do you think I was saying yes to? It’s always been the whole kit n’ caboodle with you. I didn’t think that had changed.”

  Hot damn.

  She led him to a bank of lockers and opened one of the bottom ones. There was a cream and cherry print rolling suitcase, which she gave to him, and a large tote she slung over her shoulder.

  “Why don’t you pick a spot, and I’ll go get ready?” she said.

  He glanced at the bag. “Think you could have something, I don’t know, more pink? I’m just not sure this is my style.”

  She tossed her head back and laughed.

  He’d missed that laugh, everything about her. He was pathetic, but he’d come to grips with that ages ago. This time, he reached out and tugged a lock of her hair.

  Her laughter stopped immediately and she stared at him with open desire in her gaze. He might have grown ten feet in that moment.

  “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

  Renee left him and went into the women’s changing room, leaving him to pick his poison. It would be her every time, but how it would go down was completely up to him.

  Kit entered the dungeon with focus. There were only a few play spaces open; some sort of medieval type stretching table, a wooden frame and a small stage with a hanging hard point. The table was out, and the frame was next to a pair of men in the midst of a very serious shaving scene. The Renee of his memory had a tendency to laugh and be loud. He didn’t think they would appreciate that. She also hadn’t minded being on display.

  He set the bag on the dais and unzipped it. She had a decent array of toys, from cuffs to rope, a few paddles, some finger picks and even a vampire glove. There was something in the top compartment of the suitcase that made a bulge. He closed the lid and slid his hand past the zipper. Nylon covered softness.

  Kit pulled out a flogger and removed the nylon sleeve. It was a standard type, brown leather with a spun wooden handle. He swung it a few times, getting the weight of the toy.

  This was going to be fun.

  He put the toys aside and pulled out the cuffs and a snap. The hard point was easily lowered to a comfortable height for a woman of Renee’s stature. He attached the cuffs to the chain and satisfied with the set up, began laying out the rest of her toys.

  There was a hairbrush with the word POW stenciled on the flat back. Several spatulas and rice paddles. Two twelve inch canes, roughly an inch in diameter. She basically had a toy from all the major groups, and enough everyday items, or pervertibles, to keep them more than busy for a while.

  “I should warn you I haven’t taken everything out of there in a while.”

  Kit glanced up at Renee. She stood next to the stage, her hair up in a bun and wearing a silky, pinstripe robe.

  “There’s some good stuff in here.” He stood and extended his hand toward her. She took it, and stepped up onto the stage. He grasped her other hand and held them both within his. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “I’m terribly, terribly ticklish.”

  “I remember that.” There wasn’t a place on Renee’s body that didn’t make her laugh. Half of the fun was making her squirm.

  “Okay, then we’re good. Are you ready?” She tugged at the tie holding the robe together.

  “I am.”

  He watched as the robe parted and she shrugged it from her shoulders, revealing not the body he remembered, but the body of a woman. She’d grown up from the slender, knees and elbows girl who lived off Doritos and Dr. Pepper. She’d filled out, growing into her curves, body softening. He’d always been worried that she was too skinny back then. Now, he wanted to…handle her. He often had to be careful with his play partners. The L.A. women could be so delicate, but Renee was different, and made with a body he yearned to play with.

  She dropped the robe on the edge of the stage and stood before him, nude save for a black and white striped thong that sat low on her hips. It was such a tiny thing it barely covered anything, which left all the more skin to play with. There were so many new tattoos on her he hadn’t seen before.

  He walked a slow circle around Renee, itching to trace the ink with his fingers, but more than anything—he wanted to touch her. He couldn’t, not yet. Not until they’d really begun or they’d never get started.

  Kit needed his ritual.

  He stopped in front of her, his gaze dipping to her breasts. She’d had pink hearts tattooed around her areola, accentuating the fullness of her breasts, and through each nipple was a tiny bar.

  He grinned and lifted his shirt to reveal his pecs and flicked the ring he had in his nipple at her. She grinned back.

  “I think I have those,” she said.

  “Really? I like them. Okay. Hands.” He held out his and waited. She placed her hands slowly in his, as if she knew they were about to open a door they couldn’t shut again. He cupped his palms around her hands and inhaled deeply. “I’m a lot rougher than I used to be.”

  “You’ve got a lot more to work with than you used to.” Her gaze flicked over his shoulders and slid down his chest.

  “Are you calling me fat? I’m big boned, thank you very much.” It was nice to know she noticed him, and the way she studied him, it wasn’t with criticism.

  “Shut up.” She grinned and tried to tug her hands from his, but he didn’t let her go.

  “Seriously, I’m a lot more physical in my play than I used to be. Know that I’m always thinking of your safety. I won’t let you get hurt.” It was part of his ritual, the moment when he went from being the easy going Kit at the shop, to the Dom. It was like unlocking part of him that had to remain caged otherwise.

  Renee smiled up at him, so serene and beautiful. “Thank you. And I do trust you.”

  Her trust was more precious than anything else. It was what empowered her to give him control over her body. He just hoped she didn’t regret it.

  Chapter Three

  Kit led her to the hard point and buckled her wrists in the suspension cuffs. They were thick leather, with super squishy fleece padding. He liked that she came with her own toys, things she probably really liked. It was always hard playing with someone for the first time and not knowing what they were going to enjoy. As a Dom, he dug it when his partners came with their own ideas and toys to the table. It made what they did a collaboration, just like a great tattoo, they were both invested in their creation.

  “Stay right there.” He positioned her with her back to the array of toys. She might know what was in the bag, but she didn’t have to know what he intended to use.

  She narrowed her gaze, but didn’t protest the order.

  He stepped around her, glancing over his shoulder to see that she complied to his wishes. She didn’t peek once. Satisfied, he grabbed the glove and finger picks, tucking them each in a pocket,
careful of all the sharp ends.

  Kit stared at her backside, letting his gaze slide down her arms and shoulders, to her back, waist, and that ass. She’d gone from having a handful, to enough to dig his fingers into, and he liked it.

  What his eye kept going back to was the huge tattoo over her back. The little flash pieces she’d had done on her right shoulder were gone, and over them a mural of three warrior women with a banner wrapped over Renee’s shoulder and streaming down her side. Ravens perched above the banner, caught as if in mid action. He reached out and traced the banner, but couldn’t read the words.

  “What does it say?” he asked.

  Renee tipped her head back. “I send out from me the spirits of the valkyrie. May the first bite you in the back. May the second bite you in the breast. May the third turn hate and envy upon you. It’s a quote from a medieval witch trial. The woman wanted to end her marriage, so she supposedly sent the valkyries after her husband. She had a particularly awful end.”

  “Why that quote?” He was familiar with the valkyrie mythology. Doing tattoos, he had to become something of an expert in a lot of things, or know someone who was an expert. He had a friend who did amazing Norse-inspired work and had picked up a few things from him.

  “Because you should be careful what you ask for. Sometimes it comes back to bite you in the ass. And it was what inspired the three valkryies.”

  He peered closer at the image. It was more like an oil painting than a tattoo. The skill was remarkable. The first valkryie in the lead to Renee’s left held a short sword out, presumably to stab in the back. The second carried a long spear they might use to hunt boar or whatever the Norse equivalent was. The third wore nearly transparent clothing, and appeared to peer off the canvas at him, inviting the observer to experience all sorts of pleasures. The first could stab in the back, the second stab in the heart while the third might be the most dangerous of all. Whoever had that woman on his arm would be the envy of everyone around. They each carried helms, scabbards or wore bits of armor, and yet, their strength was beautiful.