MidnightInk-epub

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MidnightInk-epub Page 28

by MI


  “Semantics,” she groaned. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know a lot of things.” Declan’s hands caressed her, sliding up her arms and then down along her sides, his knuckles brushing over her ribs. “More than you give me credit for apparently.”

  He touched her everywhere—everywhere but where she was inked, everywhere but where she really needed his hands. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her even more tightly against him.

  “I know you, Sophie. I know you inside and out—what you like, what you crave, what your heart demands, even when you won’t admit it. Are you really going to tell me you don’t want this?”

  Sophie whimpered at his touch. The words she wanted to speak wouldn’t come. One night. One glorious, amazing, unforgettable, sinful night. Why shouldn’t she have this?

  “This isn’t pity, Sophie Jane. You know that, right? Or any of those other things you said before. You’re so beautiful when you’re turned on like you are right now—it makes me hot just being near you. I’m not doing this for any reason other than that. I want you to see yourself like I see you. I want everyone to see you like this—so fucking sexy, with my ink all over you and my hands in your pants.” He suited his actions to his words, pushing his fingers past the elastic of her waistband and then sliding both hands down the front of her pants. His fingers searched out and found her clit. “I want to tattoo you all over. Maybe you won’t give me that. Maybe you won’t give me anything else but this. I don’t care. For tonight, you’re mine. And I want everyone to know it.”

  “Oh, yes, there,” Sophie moaned as she pushed into his touch. His fingers moved in slow strokes, over her clit, between her folds, growing slicker with every pass he made.

  “I wish I could take these pants off you too,” he whispered as he speared her core. “If I had you naked right now, do you know what I’d do? I’d spread your legs wide and hold you open. I’d finger you ’til you came. I’d let everyone watch as I did it. Is that what you want too? Tell me.”

  Sophie nodded, barely aware of what she was agreeing to. She pushed her hips forward again demandingly. “More.” She doubted anyone could see what his hands were doing to her. Not yet. Not unless he really did remove her pants. She wouldn’t put it past him.

  At this point, she wouldn’t put it past herself to let him either.

  “God, Declan. How do you get to me like this?”

  He was shameless, and she was enslaved—that had to be the answer. He’d put her under some damned voodoo curse. Or maybe she was the shameless one? After all, she was the one who was standing out here, bare-chested, leaning against the rail, writhing beneath his touch, already starting to come undone. Not caring at all about the crowd of people on the street below.

  “Come for me,” Declan urged as his fingers continued to press inside her, stretching and filling her, retreating then thrusting again, the heel of his hand pummeling her clit with that same demanding rhythm. “I want to be inside you when you do. I want your hungry little pussy chomping at my fingers, like you’re about to eat me up.”

  His voice slid across her skin like sweet syrup, as seductive as the saxophone music rising from the street corner. She closed her eyes and turned away, trying to shut it all out. But he wouldn’t let her. He pulled one hand from her pants and grasped the back of her head. Catching a handful of her too-short hair between his fingers, he tugged.

  “Open your eyes,” he ordered as he directed her attention to the street. “Look at them—all those people down there. Call to them. Let them see you. Let them see how gorgeous you are. Hot. Sexy. Mine.”

  Yes! Sophie whimpered as she bowed to the irresistible pressure of hard fingers inside her and in her hair, hard body behind her, hard railing in front, hard teeth at her neck. Everything hard, hard, hard. Unrelenting. Her back arched as she stretched toward the sky. A sob tore from her throat as she came, hands clenching on the metal rail, cunt clenching around Declan’s hand. Twisting in ecstasy. She heard an enthusiastic cheer go up from the street below, just before she was swung around and whisked into the shadows.

  “Need to fuck you,” Declan growled as he carried her back inside, his voice a thick and desperate whisper her ear. “Need to be inside you, bébé. Now.”

  “Do it.” She was still shuddering with aftershocks—sparks and remainders of an orgasm that continued to sizzle along all her nerves, just waiting for the chance to reignite. “Hurry. Do it. Do it now.”

  “Couch,” he rasped out, as he headed across the room.

  “Yes.” Her hands clutched at him. She wanted, needed, more. So much more. More than he could possibly give her. She wanted to be face down on the cushions, his hand coming down on her ass with just enough strength behind it so that each slap would bring tears to her eyes. She wanted his knee sliding hard between her thighs, forcing them apart and then forcing them wider. She wanted all her fears and hesitations, all her worries for the future, to disappear, subsumed by his need for her. She wanted to feel the rough fabric of the upholstery as it abraded her chest, setting fire to her nipples with every thrust—and she wanted it hot enough, rough enough, mindless enough to obliterate the knowledge that it could never really be like that again.

  Declan set Sophie back on her feet in front of the couch. They were both breathing hard by that point. Watching her shimmy out of her pants didn’t help. She had him so distracted that he almost forgot take the condom out of his pocket. By the time he’d suited up, she was already reclining on the couch, watching him. He fell on top of her, careful to keep his weight on his arms as he pressed her back into the cushions. He kissed her again and again, tugging at her limbs and moving her around until she was beneath him.

  Sophie wrapped one leg around his back—the other was braced on the floor. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled. “Come here,” she begged. “Closer. I want to feel you all around me.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t,” he panted out between kisses. “Not tonight. That ink’s too new.” Oh, but he wanted to. Anything to close the distance between them, to knock down the walls she kept building to keep him out. Anything that didn’t carry the risk of infection. He still didn’t know enough about her condition to take that kind of chance.

  Sophie groaned in frustration. “Damn it.” Her teeth closed hard on her lower lip. “Need you.”

  “I know, bébé.” He dragged the head of his cock along her slit several times, wishing he was bare, so he could really feel her wetness. Even with the condom she felt oh, so good, slick and soft and sexy. “I know. I’ve got you.” But not if he didn’t get inside her soon.

  He took a shaky breath, hoping it would calm him because he was all set to go off like some kind of damn rocket. But the scent of her filled his nostrils, and his balls tightened. He’d swear he could taste her on the back of his tongue. He flexed his hips and thrust inside her quickly, needing to move. Her pussy clenched around him immediately, nearly ending things right then and there. It was the best kind of torture.

  Another raw sob worked its way up Sophie’s throat. “Yes. Oh God, yes. Like that. Just like that.”

  “Jesus, Sophie, you’re killing me.” He pulled out then surged into her once again, seating himself even deeper within her, setting up a steady rhythm that he hoped would drive them both insane. He was already there. She needed to go there again. Fast. “You were so fucking hot out there on that balcony. So fierce. So fearless.” He’d loved seeing her like that, loved that she’d let him have that. It hadn’t escaped his attention that she’d loved it too.

  Best of all, she wasn’t shielding herself from him anymore. Not physically. Maybe there was hope for them. She couldn’t really think there was nothing more to them than this…could she?

  He sat up and reached for her hands, untangling them from around his neck. Then he pinned them to the cushions on either side of her head. “I need you to tell me something.” God, he loved how the slightest order still got to her. The small whimper she gave, the flush on her
cheeks, the hitch in her breath, her glazed eyes—he loved it all. An excited little spasm rocked her pussy. His own breath skittered in his throat. His balls drew up tight. Keep your shit together, he ordered himself, this is important. He couldn’t afford to mess up now.

  “What?” Sophie groaned impatiently. “What now? What do you need me to say?”

  “I need you to tell me that all that stuff you said earlier, in the bathroom, was bullshit. You know there’s more between us than sex.”

  Sophie’s expression turned anguished. “Declan, c’mon. Don’t do this.”

  “I love you, Sophie.” He bent his head and kissed her softly. “I do. I always did.” He’d just been too stupid to admit it.

  Sophie sighed. “Didn’t always seem so.”

  “I know.” He rocked against her, needing to feel the connection between them, needing to touch her deep inside. “And I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t always good at figuring things out. But I’ve changed a lot in five years. I wish you could see that.”

  A sad smile touched her lips. “I’ve changed too—in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

  “You still love me,” he insisted, feeling less and less certain. “I know you do.”

  She shook her head. “What does it matter now?”

  “It matters.” Then he sealed her mouth with his, refusing to let another word come between them.

  She sure didn’t kiss him like it didn’t matter—or like she didn’t love him, either. He took comfort in that and rocked harder—long, deep strokes, just the way she liked it. Until she was thrashing beneath him, begging him for more. Until they were both on the edge where the smallest push would send them both over. “Let me in, Sophie,” he whispered when he knew she was close. “Let me back in. Please. Stop shutting me out.”

  Her eyes flew open and locked with his—but only for an instant. He thought he read wonderment, questions, hopes, and dread there, but as fast as that, it was gone, and she was shuddering and convulsing in his arms. He thrust harder then, faster, needing her right there with him when he came. Not at a distance. Not on the phone. Not just a memory. But real. Here. Alive. His.

  “Tell me,” he rasped out. His need for her built with every stroke, every breath, every heartbeat, every thought—but it wasn’t enough, never would be enough if he didn’t have her heart. “Tell me.”

  “I love you,” Sophie said on a sob. “I do, all right? I never stopped.”

  “Thank you.” He gasped as he slammed inside her one last time, as his orgasm lit him up inside like fireworks over the Mississippi. “Thank you for that.”

  Love couldn’t make everything better. It couldn’t fix the world. But it made everything else so much easier to bear. It had taken him way too long to figure out that piece of wisdom.

  “Do you know what I think I loved most about your breasts?” he asked a long time later. They were still curled up on his couch. He took comfort in that, comfort in the fact she hadn’t bolted at the first opportunity. “I loved how responsive they were. I loved knowing I could make you feel so good just by touching them. But I think we’ve proven I can still make you feel good. We still have that, Sophie. Don’t we?”

  And, once again, Sophie was blinking back tears. His heart sank as she stared at him, her expression so very bleak. “You make everything sound so simple, but it’s not. You make this sound so normal, but it’s changed everything.”

  “It hasn’t changed how I feel about you.”

  She sat up and pulled away from him. “It’s changed how I feel about me. I know it’s stupid, I know I should feel grateful, but sometimes I’m not. Sometimes… Hell, sometimes I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  Declan sat up as well. “Yeah,” he said sadly. “I know. I get that.” And he did, he really did.

  Sophie scowled. “You don’t know! Stop saying that. You can’t possibly know what I’m going through. And the fact that you even think you can? The fact that you can sit there and act like it’s no big deal? That just tells me how much you don’t know about it.”

  “Of course it’s a big deal. It’s huge. And, I know, when that big a piece of yourself goes missing, it’s hard to even make sense of who you are.”

  “Yes. Ex-exactly.” Sophie blinked at him, obviously surprised by his insight.

  A rueful smile curled Declan’s lips. Did she really think him that clueless? And had he really thought he could do this without baring a big part of his own soul?

  “You stay away from mirrors because they’re too painful,” he told her as the ghost of his own remembered heartbreak shafted through him. “Because the only thing you notice when you look in one, is everything that’s missing, everything that’s wrong. It’s like you’re suddenly trapped inside a new identity, and all you want is to have the old you back. Deep down inside, you know that’s never going to happen. But it never stops haunting you. And you never stop hurting.”

  Understanding finally dawned in Sophie’s eyes. She nodded, her expression softened now by sympathy. “Like when you lost your twin.”

  Declan cringed. “Did you know the first memorial tattoo I tried to get was his portrait? Yeah. I was so disconnected it didn’t even occur to me that I was basically asking to have my own face tattooed over my heart. The artist had to point that out. I guess he thought I was some kind of crazy egomaniac or something. But it wasn’t really my face, you know? I mean there were all those little differences between us, all the things that made Dev…Dev, and not me. But, suddenly, they no longer mattered. Hell, I was practically the only one left who even knew about them. And yet…I dunno. After awhile, it began to seem like those differences were the only things that defined me. Whenever I looked at my own face—in pictures, in the mirror, wherever—all I could see were the ways in which I wasn’t him.

  “Losing that connection… Well, it hurt so bad. I never wanted to feel that way again. So I did exactly what you’re doing now. I tried to shut everybody out—especially anyone I cared about, anyone who tried to get too close, anyone I couldn’t afford to lose.”

  He lifted her chin, forcing her to face him, needing to make his point, needing to be sure she understood. “And I’m going to tell you something right now, Sophie Jane, and I hope you’re listening. That is no way to live.”

  “I know that.” Sophie dropped her gaze. “I do. I know you’re right, but…”

  “I know I can’t promise you forever. I wish that I could. But you and I both know that’s not how the world works. Sooner or later, we all end up scarred. That’s what life does to people. No one escapes. But life’s not about playing it safe. It’s about making memories and leaving marks. Because, when we’re gone, that’s pretty much all we’ll leave behind us. Nothing but the marks we’ve made on the hearts and minds of the people we’ve loved. And on the people who’ve loved us back.”

  Sophie sniffed back tears. “When did you get to be so smart?”

  He laughed at that. “Smart? Oh, darlin’, that’s not me. If I were smart, I’d have figured this shit out a long time ago.” He gazed at her silently for a moment. Then he reached for her hand and held it tight. “Stay with me? Please? Let me be there for you.”

  Sophie nodded and smiled—a very watery smile, but he’d take it. “Okay.”

  “I’m not just talking about tonight, you know.”

  Sophie rested her head against his shoulder and sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

  Chapter Eight

  One week later…

  The shop was mostly deserted this early in the day. Shep studied the sketch that Declan had handed him, the curling pink ribbon that spelled out Sophie’s name in script. Then he raised his head to glare accusingly at Declan. “What the fuck is this? You’re saying you want me to tattoo a name on your chest?”

  Declan rolled his eyes. “Oh good, you can read. Man, that’s a relief. For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to walk you through this.”

  “Fuck you. Also: no way. I’
m not doing it. What’s with everyone wanting names all of a sudden? It’s a curse. I think I told you that—what, ten years ago?”

  “It was eight years ago. And so what? I still don’t believe in curses.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s your funeral then, ain’t it?” He tossed the paper down on the counter. Folding his arms across his chest, he fixed Declan with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Why’d you come to me with this? Why not go to one of the others?”

  Declan shrugged. “Why not you? I mean, aside from that truly god-awful tattoo you had to touch up the night of the party, you have a real talent when it comes to script-work.”

  “Hey! There was absolutely nothing wrong with that tat. She moved.”

  “I’m sure she did.” Declan sighed. “All right, look, the thing is, this is important to me, okay? And all kidding aside, there’s no one I’d trust with something like this more than you.”

  Shep shook his head. “All right, fine. You talked me into it. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He studied Declan for a moment then said, “So, I hear you’re coming back for good.”

  “You heard right. Soon as I finish the current season, I’m quitting the show.”

  His agent hadn’t been too happy with the news. And when Christie said he’d have to talk to the other artists before making a decision, Declan was sure he was screwed. He figured he’d burned his bridges a little too well when he’d left, and his TV career wasn’t likely to help. He’d been shocked when Christie had welcomed him back into the Midnight Ink fold, even more so when he mentioned that the vote had been unanimous. He’d been shocked, humbled, grateful, touched—not that he was ever going to admit to any of that! He had a reputation as a smart-ass to uphold after all.

  “Just so you know, it’s gonna suck having you around again all the time.”

  Declan smirked. “Uh-huh. Sucks to be you, you mean. Now, can we get this tat started? And don’t mess it up, all right?”

 

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