by Bethany-Kris
“And how should I phrase it exactly, huh?”
Connor kept his hands on his thighs, determined not to let them reach out and grab her like he wanted to. Her condition to pain was about as interesting to him as his affliction to her enjoyment. He liked that too much, and that was dangerous for him and for her.
“A warning would have been grand, that’s all I’m saying.”
Evelyn’s gaze dropped to his groin, but Connor made zero effort to hide the length of his erection straining against his slacks. “You don’t mind.”
“Doesn’t matter how my cock feels about the situation; it isn’t doing the work on your body, I am. This isn’t a thirty-minute session, lass. It’s an extended piece, which means you’re going to keep moving and twisting like you just were, and I can’t have that when I’m trying to feckin’ focus on my work.”
Most of that was true.
He also would have preferred to know just because.
“I can’t … help it,” Evelyn admitted, her gaze dropping his as her cheeks pinked again.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Why did the world hate him so much?
Not only did it throw a beautiful woman at his feet for no apparent reason, but Evelyn herself didn’t even have an answer to help him along in figuring her out. And now … now, not only was she testing his patience and worth on a daily basis, she was going to test his will, too.
She was just like him, but in a different way.
He wasn’t sure he could handle this.
“It’s not that big of a problem,” Evelyn added after a moment of silence. “It’s not like I’m screaming in pain, asking you to stop or something.”
Connor leaned forward, closer to Evelyn, as he said, “It is a problem, lass. It’s a problem because now my attention is somewhere else entirely, and instead of getting this out of the way before we started, now we have to deal with it before I can continue.”
A coy smile curved her lips. Whether she meant to tease him, or challenge him, Evelyn leaned in closer, too. “And how do you plan to do that?”
He had figured out over the past two weeks that Evelyn had taken his advice in one way. She was no longer attempting to play a game with him, because she didn’t need to when he was upfront with whatever his feelings were for the day. He noticed her watching him quite often, how her gaze lingered, and the curiosity there.
She was confused.
She was lost.
She was lonely.
She was also a woman.
He had no intentions of pretending like she was anything but a grown woman.
Connor’s desires were his greatest weakness. He was quickly learning that Evelyn had the ability to own every single one of them. This was no exception.
“Not me, love, you.” Connor smirked when her eyes widened. “Don’t turn shy on me; it wasn’t me who sat my arse down here today, trying to pretend like this didn’t turn me on.”
Her fire was back in a blink, her gaze dropping to his cock again. She had certainly come to show more of her true self over the last weeks with him, and he was happy about that fact. He thought there was more to come, yet. Perhaps she needed more time, but he was willing to push her, if he thought it would get her there faster.
“No, you’re not the one hiding anything, are you?” she asked.
“It’s not about me, lass.”
She scoffed. “Sure.”
“Don’t be trite because you’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not—”
“Liar. And I bet you’re squeezing your thighs as tight as you are because you don’t want me to know how goddamn wet you are or that you’ve soaked your knickers straight through. How right am I, Evelyn?”
Her cheeks heated as her lips popped open. “I—”
“Are you going to lie again?”
Evelyn sucked in a sharp breath before she whispered, “No.”
“I haven’t even gotten started yet, and you can’t handle it as it is. I don’t mind—it’s not that you’re hot and sweet that’s the problem, love. Trust me, that doesn’t bother me a bit, and especially not because of why. It’s that you didn’t tell me so I knew, so it could have been taken care of before we started. That’s a problem.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her remorse was mixed heavily with a dose of her embarrassment. Connor could hear it as clear as day, and he wished that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want her feeling ashamed of her kink. The fact she had anything at all that made her hot and wet was a feckin’ miracle. It just made it harder on him that her kink was precisely the thing he enjoyed inflicting on his lovers.
A woman who wanted more, who couldn’t help but to ask and demand more, even when it hurt, was his paradise and flaw, all in one beautiful package. He had yet to find that perfect woman to match him in that regard, though.
But there she was … staring at him.
Waiting.
The second he gave in to his dark, whispering wants, he knew he was going to be royally screwed.
He did it anyway.
Connor pulled his latex gloves off and stood, leaning over Evelyn as she rolled back to her elbows on the coffee table. He grabbed ahold of both sides of the glass, insuring she would stay like she was, and that he would have some semblance of control over what he was about to do.
“You need to stop moving, and if that means you need to fix your problem so I can sit the feck down and continue, then hurry up and get it done. If you need me to help, then ask. Ask for me to do it for you. That’s all you need to do.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “What?”
He ignored her question.
She knew damn well what he was talking about.
“How wet are you right now?”
She swallowed hard. “Very.”
“Tender? Empty? Hot? Is that why you keep pushing your legs together, trying to ease that pressure and heat down there? Would you rather have something filling your cunt, instead of just pretending something is there?”
Her pretty, pink lips opened just enough that he had the urge to shove two fingers into her mouth and see how well she sucked.
“I …”
He decided he liked her a wee bit speechless.
“I bet you sound even better when you’re making all that go away with your fingers shoved deep inside your pussy, don’t you, lass?”
Evelyn breath came out in a rush. “You’re not playing fair.”
“It’s not about me.”
He was going to keep saying that.
Because it was true.
“Show me how those beautiful fingers of yours look when they’re soaked with you, lass. Touch yourself. Come. Again and again. As many times as you need to, so that you’re satisfied enough to sit feckin’ still while I work.”
Evelyn’s expression was a mixture of shock, churned with lust. “Pretty sure that’s not how getting a tattoo is supposed to end.”
“You’re not normal; it’s not a bad thing. Don’t you know how to get yourself off? I’m sure you do, now get to it.”
She didn’t need to be told again, thankfully. Connor was two seconds away from yanking her knickers down her thighs and doing it for her, but he wouldn’t need to.
Evelyn’s thighs fell open, whatever embarrassment she had been feeling was gone in an instant. Connor moved to the end of the coffee table, still leaning over her body while keeping hold of the table at the same time. Her hands disappeared under her knickers, and Connor’s gaze jumped between the flush of relief flooding her features, down to where her fingers moved under black lace.
Sweet, soft sounds crawled from her throat as her legs opened even wider. Her head fell back, lips parting with her cries as he watched her wetness soak through lace with every dip and stroke of her fingers.
The prettiest pink flush started in her cheeks, rushed down the delicate line of her throat, and then colored her chest before it disappeared under her tank top. Every single feckin’ piece of Connor demanded he pull her shirt off�
��damn well cut if off, if he had to—just to see where the flush ended on her skin.
He didn’t move his hands.
His fingers ached from the pressure.
It wasn’t about him.
This was her.
It was all on her.
His attention was so caught in the way her limbs trembled, the curl of her toes, and the fast stroke of her fingers under her knickers that he almost missed her breathless words when she spoke.
“I can’t … please,” Evelyn mumbled.
His gaze snapped up to find hers watching him. “I won’t touch you unless you ask me to. Not now, not ever.”
He’d decided that the moment he knew her body had never been her own. She had to ask because she wanted to be touched, not because he demanded it.
Evelyn’s head fell back, tipping over the edge of the glass as words spilled from her lips in a swift breath. “Won’t you help me, please?”
“Anything.”
As fast as his agreement was out of his mouth, Connor was already touching her. His hands found her sides, pulling up her tank top and then his fingernails dragged down her skin with enough pressure to leave red lines behind.
Evelyn only sighed.
Like his touch was good, but not quite enough.
“Harder, again.”
He heard, more.
His one hand found her throat while his other grasped tight to her inner thigh, forcing her leg open far enough that he knew it had to ache. All the while, his fingers tightened around her throat, while her digits sank deep into her cunt, and her back came up off the table.
Her eyes met his as he leaned down to find her hot mouth in a bruising kiss. Her gasping whine against his kiss lasted only long enough for his tongue to strike inside her mouth. She was warm, soft, and needy under his touch, but she was also defiant, sinful, and broken, too.
He pulled away just long enough to take a breath.
“I can’t even see your pretty cunt swallowing up your fingers,” he growled against her mouth, “but I bet it’s feckin’ lovely, isn’t it? I bet you’d be just as greedy with my cock, love.”
Connor bit her lip hard, and then his teeth went lower, finding spots to mark on her chin, her throat, and then her collarbone. They were deep bites that left his teeth marks behind, left her skin red, and each time, she lifted into him for more.
And then she was coming.
Once …
Then again.
She had to work harder for each orgasm, her fingers working faster, her body twisting under his while her face contorted with pleasure. She was—by far—the most beautiful thing he’d ever had beneath him, and he wasn’t even screwing her.
Connor let Evelyn continue playing with herself while he made new marks and tasted all the different spots on her body that he could find. He choked her just enough to make her lose her words, but not enough that he couldn’t hear her scream. His fingers left bruises on her inner thighs, and she only ever said one thing each time.
“More.”
He stopped counting her orgasms, but eventually, her back fell to the table, and her legs closed around her trembling hands. Her skin was sweat-slicked, and her eyes glazed with satisfaction as she looked him over.
He had no doubt he could have dropped his pants, bent her over, filled her full, and fed the monster rattling at his cage. He didn’t. Seeing her content, though ready for more if he asked, was enough for him.
For now.
“See,” Connor said, taking his spot back on the couch as he rolled her over on her side again on the table, “you dealt with it, lass. Now we’re good.”
Evelyn’s voice was hoarse when she replied, “Or did you deal with it?”
“It wasn’t about me. I told you that.”
“Not even a little bit?”
Connor went about wiping her thighs down with the spray and towels again, making sure that his work space and Evelyn were both clean and sterile. He took his time cleaning each of her fingers when she held them out, and even slower cleaning the wetness between her thighs. He put on new latex gloves, while Evelyn’s trembling finally ceased.
“Trust me, love, you would know if it was about me. We wouldn’t be close to done, every part of you would ache, and you would love every feckin’ second of it.”
“Huh.” She sounded pleased, amused, and curious all at once. “I should go change my panties, because they’re ruined, but if I don’t tell you to start now, your little plan might not work after a break.”
“Maybe, but maybe not. It wasn’t my plan, remember, it was for—”
“Me. Yeah, I heard you, smartass.”
Connor grinned. “I think you’ll be fine to be like you are. It gives you something to think about.”
And him, too.
Connor decided to get back to work, before he focused on just how wet she probably still was between her thighs, and got distracted again. He could show her exactly what he meant about sex being for him on another day, when his mood was not balancing a thin line between control and crazy. He was terribly good at hiding it, but if he fed into that bit of curiosity he heard from her, he’d be a hell of a lot more crazed than controlled.
It was not the time.
It’s not about you.
He met her gaze head on, picking up his machine as her features relaxed with the knowledge of what was coming.
“You good?” he asked.
Evelyn nodded. “Better.”
“Next time, we’ll know.”
“Next time?”
Connor chuckled, his lips curving wickedly. “You know what they say, it’s addicting.”
He didn’t mean only tattoos, either.
Instead of being restless now, he knew she would be relaxed and satisfied. The pain she so enjoyed would act as an additive to the relief she had already drowned in just minutes before. Her craving had been gratified enough to allow her calm.
Just like an addict getting their fix.
Connor’s machine buzzed with life again, and he went to work. Evelyn stayed still and silent for the next four hours, but never once did she stop watching him as he worked. He probably liked that the most.
• • •
“Connor?”
He had just put his damn feet up after spending seven long hours at The Ink Shoppe, and the very last thing Connor wanted to do was move from his spot on the couch. “What?”
“Are you busy?” Evelyn called from the upstairs.
“Not in the sense that I have something important to do.”
“Come help me, then.”
Connor groaned. “But—”
“Please.”
Feck it.
Connor pushed off the couch, ignoring the ache in his back. He had learned over the near month-long time Evelyn had been in his home, that she could be … a wee bit eccentric at times. Maybe it was because of her new-found freedom with him, something he didn’t think she had been given before very much, or perhaps it was boredom.
Whatever it was, she could find just about anything to amuse herself with, and most of the time, she wanted to bring Connor along for the ride. Mostly, he didn’t mind. Sometimes, he wanted to tell the lass that she needed to learn to enjoy her own company at some point.
Then, he just felt like an arsehole. She had probably enjoyed more than enough of her own company over the years. That was exactly why he dragged his dumb arse up the stairs to find her and join in on whatever she was doing.
The second he found her sitting in the window seat of his studio, he couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t notice him come in, so he took the moment to enjoy the sight of her with her sketchbook on her lap as sunlight washed in through the window.
A lot could happen in a month, he learned.
She had gained weight, not a lot, but enough that she wasn’t as frail, but still just as beautifully delicate. She smiled a lot more often, and with a tender genuineness whenever it was just for him. Sometimes, she did manage to sleep in her bed acros
s the hall from his room, but more often than not, she snuck into his bed with the brightest grins.
Evelyn hadn’t asked about the outside. She never talked about the sunny days, or the rainy ones, when water beat on the windows and she traced the lines with her fingers from the inside. He didn’t know if that was because she wanted to stay right where she was, or because she was afraid of what he might say if she did ask.
Connor didn’t entirely know what he would say, either.
“All right, lass, what is it now?”
Evelyn’s head perked up at his voice, her smile blooming. “Sit with me?”
He sighed, though not unhappily, and made his way over to the window seat. She was scrunched up in one corner, using her legs as a stand of sorts for her sketchbook. Connor perched himself onto the other side, and stretched his legs out to cross them at the ankles. The seat was wide enough that Evelyn didn’t even have to move to accommodate his presence.
“Now, don’t move,” Evelyn said, her pencil flying across her pad.
Connor cocked a brow, amused. “Are you drawing me?”
“I needed a reference. You weren’t home most of the day. Now you are.”
“I do have things to do, love. Work and whatnot.”
“I know.
“I stay home more often than I should,” he added.
It was true.
“I know,” she repeated. “Stop moving.”
Connor had managed practically nothing by way of work, since bringing Evelyn into his home. He’d brushed off more calls than he’d known was smart, taken less clients at the shop, and even gotten out of Sean’s stupid demand for him to show up at another event by the Russians to gain information, by explaining how feckin’ dumb that would be. Sean fell for it, thankfully.
But he had to show face.
He couldn’t suddenly drop off the radar without someone wondering why.
Connor wasn’t ready to bring attention to Evelyn without knowing first all the whys, hows, and whats of her previous situation. She didn’t have a lot of answers to give, and she was never very interested in talking about the men she had been handed to over the years. He didn’t push, not yet, anyway.
To be fair, he hadn’t done a lot of looking himself. He knew exactly where to go if he wanted proper answers, and that was Sean. He didn’t know why, exactly, but his father’s sudden need to dismantle every Russian he came across until he found what he said was taken from him, certainly made Connor take notice.