Indelibly Intimate

by Cole, Regina

  Hammer finished his sip of coffee before answering. “I’m starting my own shop after this convention. Down in Fell’s Point. I’m trying to get my name out there, get recognized to get a client base going.”

  “Wow. Fell’s Point, huh? That’s a nice area.”

  He nodded. “It’s definitely got the kind of clientele I’m looking for.”

  Quinn glanced down at the tattoo on her leg. “You’ve certainly got the talent to have a successful shop. I have to admit, I was worried when I saw you in No Regrets. It didn’t look like a great area.”

  Hammer nodded. “Rodney is a good guy. He apprenticed under the same artist I did, a long time ago. He’s satisfied with his little shop. He gave me a good start and I’ll always be grateful for that. But I want more out of this than he does.”

  “Makes sense. With talent like this, you should be in the heart of the city.”

  His hand was warm on her knee, his thumb caressing the softer skin at the crook. “Thanks, Sparky. Feels good to hear you say that.”

  She bit her lip. “Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

  He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got about twenty minutes.” Standing, he caught her wrist and pulled her up. “Come here.”

  After leading Quinn behind the privacy screen they’d set up in the corner—for any shy clients—Hammer wrapped his arms around her.

  With a shaky breath, she wound her arms around his neck, the unexpected proximity leaving her uncertain. “What are you doing?”

  “You agreed last night. The days are mine if the nights are yours. And I want a good memory to carry with me today.” His lips came down on hers, soft but strong and demanding.

  She opened her mouth for him and he wasted no time in tasting her. His tongue traced the fullness of her bottom lip, sending tremors of warmth to her breasts and lower to her belly. He fondled her ass, bringing her fully against him. His erection was hot, a pulsing warmth that flooded her belly with the memory of the night before. Dampness saturated her core and she hitched a leg up on his hip, needing to be closer to him.

  His lips left hers, traveling across her jaw. She tilted her head back to give him better access. He kissed and nipped at the soft skin of her neck. Her fingers dug into the dark cotton of his tee shirt, holding on for dear life. He was harder now, the feeling even more exquisite against the crotch of her shorts.

  His hand crept beneath her tank, covering her lace-covered breast. He squeezed softly and she moaned.

  “Hush,” he whispered against her throat. “Someone might hear you.”

  She nodded. It was going to be damn difficult but she’d do her best. But when his fingers ran beneath the lace cup, brushing against her hardened nipple, she wondered exactly how long she could keep silent.

  Hammer’s body burned. She was like a fire under his skin, an exquisite itch he couldn’t scratch to satisfaction. No matter how much he touched her, how close he was even with his cock buried deep within her, he still wanted her. Here, in a roomful of people, the only thing separating their entwined bodies from public view was a drawn black curtain.

  But the feel of her soft breast against his palm, the taut nipple pebbling between his fingers, the heat of her pussy pressed tight against his groin, it all made his good intentions disappear.

  Unable to resist, he lifted her shirt from her breast and bent to taste her nipple through the black lace of her bra. Her sharp intake of breath brought his senses back.

  With a heavy sigh, he replaced her shirt. “I guess we should stop. The doors will be open in a minute.”

  She nodded but her eyes were hazy, dazed with lust. He pressed another kiss to her lips, unable to ignore her delicious confusion. Twining her fingers through his, he led her back out to the front of the booth.

  “I’ll be out here with you until I have a client.”

  She cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair, obviously trying to regain control of her mental faculties. “Okay. So what do I do? Play guard dog while you’re working on somebody?”

  He laughed, the mental image of his little firecracker in a dog collar nearly obliterating his good sense. “You’ll greet people, answer questions, schedule tattoos. I’ve got a planner here.” He reached into his bag and pulled the notebook free. “It’s marked with the days and time slots. Just ask me how many slots a particular piece will need.”

  “Oh.” She took the book and flipped through it, one hip cocked. “So I’m your secretary.”

  He wrinkled his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. A little. But you’re also my competition piece for tomorrow night.”

  “So I’m your secretary and your piece.”

  He couldn’t stop his snort. “If that’s how you want to see it, fine. But I think you know you’re more than that.”

  She dropped the planner onto the table and sat primly, crossing her legs at the ankle. “You’re damn skippy I’m more than that. I’m your Domme for the weekend.”

  He bent low and put his lips to the bare skin of her shoulder. “Only at night, Sparky.”

  A voice crackled over the loudspeaker, announcing that the sixth annual Inktastic Convention was officially open. Cheers erupted and the buzz of voices quickly filled the room.

  Hammer had done conventions before but never under his own name. He had just long enough to imagine how awful it would be if nobody wanted any tattoos from him. Many of the other artists, established names with large followings, were booked solid weeks before the convention opened. As a relative unknown in this industry, Hammer was counting on a strong showing this weekend to help kick off his new career. What he hadn’t counted on was how great a salesperson Quinn could be when she put her mind to it.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as she stood and rounded the corner of the table, hopping atop it and arranging herself with crossed legs like a pinup on a beach blanket.

  “Just wait.” She leaned forward and smiled at the first couple guys who came down the aisle. “Hey boys. You looking for Hammer?”

  The shorter one glanced at his companion with a puzzled expression. “Who?”

  Quinn tipped her head toward the large banner bearing his new shop logo. “Hammer. This is his booth.” She patted her thigh beside the phoenix. Hammer bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the guys’ lust-stricken expressions. “He did this piece. Covered up a god-awful piece of crap, kind of like that one on your arm there.”

  The taller guy self-consciously clapped his palm over the fuzzy tribal band on his arm. “Yeah? That’s a cover-up?”

  She nodded and winked at them. “Here. What’s your name? We’ve got some free time this afternoon. He can take care of that for you. Why don’t you come back at one?”

  Both guys looked over at Hammer. He had kicked back in his chair to watch Sparky as she worked her magic. Crossing his arms over his chest, he nodded at them as if he were the king of this fucking castle.

  “Okay.” The taller stranger’s voice shook a little. “One o’clock. See you then.”

  After Quinn extracted his name and put it down in the appointment book, the two guys wandered down the aisle, a bit like survivors of some natural disaster. Or a little firecracker named Quinn LaBrea.

  Hammer shook his head in wonder. “You are terrifying.”

  “What?” She gave him an evil grin as she rearranged herself on the table. “You wanted clients, you’ll get clients. I’m helping them figure out what they want.”

  She kept up this approach for another hour, flirting shamelessly with the guys, making friends with the women and filling Hammer’s appointment book faster than he’d ever thought possible. By lunchtime he’d done two small tattoos, sold a canvas piece and was mostly booked for the weekend.

  After bandaging the orchid tattoo he’d finished and thanking the woman for her generous tip, he tapped Sparky on the shoulder. “Hey. You doing good?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m great. You’ve got a break for about an hour. Want to go upstairs, maybe get
some lunch?” Her hand drew up the length of her leg, rounding the curve of her ass before smoothing back to her knee.

  He didn’t miss a bit of it. Not the slight shift of her body, not the way her nipples stood erect beneath her black tank and thin bra, not the way her tongue darted out to dampen her lip.

  She might be hungry but it sure as hell wasn’t for lunch.

  Running his fingers down her shoulder and then lacing them through hers, he pulled her toward him. “Come here.”

  As he guided her behind the screen, he glanced over his shoulder. People milled around but none of them were looking their way. Good. They’d need a little privacy. He wasn’t about to let his little firecracker go hungry. Not when he knew what she wanted and was ready and willing to supply.

  “What are you…”

  “Ssshhh.” He silenced her with a finger against her lips. “Let me.”

  Kneeling in front of her, he unbuttoned her shorts. They made a whisper of sound as they fell to the floor. The black lace of her panties, right there at eye-level, was mouthwateringly gorgeous. Her belly was soft against his forehead as he leaned into her, his hands creeping behind to caress her ass.

  “Hammer,” she whispered as she rubbed the smoothness of his shaved head. “You want to do this here?”

  In answer, he slid her panties down, revealing the strip of curls that crowned her pussy. His fingers found her as if magnetized, running through the soft curls then delving between the silky, damp folds. She gasped, clutching his shoulders.

  “Easy,” he whispered.

  A sudden burst of laughter from the booth behind them made Quinn jump. She bent down to pull up her panties.

  “Trust me.” His whispered command didn’t leave room for argument and he sighed as she let the fabric fall once more.

  He lifted her foot, hooking her leg over his shoulder. The entrancing scent of her pussy, mere inches away, sent a jolt of lust straight to his already throbbing cock. Using his hands to keep her steady, he began a slow, thorough exploration of her wet core. His tongue delved through the folds, licking and sucking and getting lost in the sweet heat of her.

  He had half a mind to stay there all day, and damn the thousands of people only feet away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On edge didn’t even begin to describe what Quinn felt as she stood there helpless, one leg hitched over Hammer’s shoulder while his talented tongue tortured her pussy. The voices, the thumping of music from a couple booths down, footsteps and shouts and the ever-present buzz of tattoo machines, kept reminding her she was in a room full of people while Hammer went down on her. Any second, someone could pull aside the corner of that flimsy curtain and see her there with his hands and mouth all over her. And while the idea mortified her, it was also strangely erotic.

  “You should stop,” she whispered again, arching her back as he slowly sucked her clit. “Really.”

  He ignored her somewhat reluctant voice of reason, which flooded her with relief. When he rubbed upward, his thumb separating her folds to enter her, she almost moaned aloud. It was too good, his mouth on her clit, his thumb deep in her pussy. Her hips began moving without her permission. She kept her hands on his shoulders to keep his mouth and his fingers moving on her.

  A shuddering breath left her as he removed his mouth and glanced up at her. “You want more, don’t you, Sparky?”

  “It’s not a good idea,” she said but hoped he could see her longing. She didn’t bother trying to mask it.

  Without replying, he lowered his lips to her again. His thumb continued sliding in and out, her slick response easing the way. Her knee shook, both from fatigue and the surplus of feelings overtaking her.

  She should probably move. Lifting the leg that hooked over his shoulder, she began to swing it free. Suddenly she stopped, clutching his shoulders harder. His thumb had left her wet pussy and was pressing against the tight hole behind.

  “Hammer,” she gasped.

  “Sssh,” he said. His lips were shiny, wet with her juices, as his thumb breached her body. Heat saturated her veins, pumping hard as lust overtook her good sense.

  His thumb moved slowly, the penetration forcing her brain into a lusty haze. She moaned softly, reveling in the sensation. Voices grew louder in the booth in front of them. Someone was there, only inches away.

  Her eyes flew open and she looked down at him in a panic. He shook his head.

  She held her breath.

  “Nice portfolio. Have you heard of this Tattoo Hammer shop?”

  “Nah. Looks like he’s new. Good stuff though. Must be out to lunch. Want to come back later?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to go see if that tee shirt guy is still there. Did you see those sick designs he had?”

  The women’s voices faded away as they moved on. Quinn’s knee nearly gave out and she leaned heavily on Hammer for support. He must have been unprepared for her movement. As she sank down, his thumb penetrated her as deep as it could go. A surprised squeak escaped her before she even thought.

  Hammer’s gaze flew to hers. Her cheeks flamed and she listened hard for anyone who might have overheard her outburst. The sounds of the convention continued uninterrupted around them. Thank heaven for small favors.

  A slight wiggle of Hammer’s thumb brought her back to the moment. Sensations chased away by fear returned with a vengeance. She bit her lip as he began a slow, sensual, probing thrust.

  “You want more, don’t you?”

  She couldn’t stop her nod at his whispered question. No matter how crazy it would be to have sex with him in this situation, she wasn’t going to be satisfied with a quick orgasm. She wanted penetration with more than his thumb. A lot more.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered, running a finger along his jaw. His eyes glinted with hunger as he looked up at her. “Please.” She ran her thumb across his lower lip, savoring the silky feel of his skin and her own wetness.

  He didn’t wait for another invitation, and for that she was incredibly grateful.

  Ducking beneath her leg, he came to his feet. She stumbled but he righted her before reaching into his pocket and grabbing a condom. A quick unzip, the tearing of foil, and he bent her over the chair.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, his whisper hoarse.

  “Yes,” she said, spreading her thighs wide.

  With a single, swift thrust, he plunged his cock deep into her weeping, pulsing pussy. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. He filled her up, the heat of his hardness stretching her body as she stood, bent over the back of the metal chair. The sounds surrounding her faded, the voices, the music, the buzz of fresh ink, until all she could hear was Hammer’s ragged breath and the soft smack of his hips against her ass.

  Arching her back to bring him closer, deeper into her body, she looked up. A tiny gap in the curtain revealed the booth beside them. It was easy to see people moving around, talking, laughing as money was exchanged and art changed hands. She should ask Hammer to stop, to adjust the drapes. What if someone saw them?

  Just then, a light smack rent the air as Hammer’s palm connected with the flesh of her ass. “You saw that gap in the curtains, didn’t you? You like that they can see you getting fucked, don’t you?”

  The voyeuristic idea shot another twinge of lust to her lower belly and she moaned softly. Her fingers found their way to her clit and she rubbed it slowly as Hammer’s rhythm increased.

  “You want them to see you and me, don’t you? Make them jealous.” His fingers dug into her skin and he pounded his cock inside her harder, faster. She matched his rhythm, manipulating the hard cherry between her legs that throbbed and burned for more.

  He smacked her ass again and she bucked against him. Her nipples were hard as fuck, rubbing against the back of the chair as her breasts bounced. Hammer rubbed the sting of pain from her hip before smacking her again. Another glimpse at the curtain. Was that guy watching them?

  She pinched her clit as Hammer connected again. The pleasure, pain, danger, thrill, a
ll of it concentrated into that hard little button between her legs. At any moment, she’d explode.

  “Quinn. Come now.”

  His wish was her command. Pressing down on her clit, she reached the peak she’d been straining for. Colors burst behind her eyes as fire lit her veins, melting down and concentrating in her pussy. Shuddering heartbeats shook her, the rhythm starting in her drenched core and shooting aftershocks throughout her limp body.

  Another thrust, then two, and Hammer found his release, gasping and pumping hard into her. His cock twitched within her as he came, heat filling her already burning lower belly.

  She collapsed over the chair back, praying it could hold her weight. Her legs weren’t up to the job anymore.

  Hammer stared at Quinn’s limp body as she draped herself over the chair. His brain, finally getting back its share of blood supply, staggered around his skull, dazed and amazed at what had just happened. Had he honestly fucked Sparky in the middle of the convention floor? Damn. That was unexpected. Incredible, but fucking unexpected.

  Reality reared its ugly head, making Hammer shake his. After a gentle pat on Quinn’s ass—reddened from his earlier ministrations—he reached down to fix his clothing.

  “Come on, Sparky. We need to get dressed.”

  She sighed but didn’t move.

  Once his pants were zipped, he pulled her to her feet, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Do you need help?”

  “No.” While searching for her discarded panties, she started to speak again. “I can…”

  “Hey, anyone here?”

  Hammer and Quinn both jumped. He almost laughed at the way she jerked her clothing back on. Apparently the afterglow had worn off and her surroundings were all too real again.

  “Stay here, I’ll take care of it.” With one last kiss on Quinn’s forehead, Hammer rounded the curtain.

  This guy was lucky he hadn’t been there five minutes earlier. Hammer wouldn’t have acknowledged him for anything in the world. In fact, he’d have become downright violent to anyone who disturbed them. The feeling was an odd one and he did his best to shake it as he greeted his customer.