The Hideaway (Lavender Shores Book 5)

by Rosalind Abel

  “You sure?” He didn’t even bother to check on the others. “I’m fairly certain you’ll do a better job if I took my pants off as well.”

  “Really? You think it’s a good idea to distract me when I have needles and ink and whatever I do on you is staying there forever?”

  Micah shrugged and stepped around me, managing to brush his crotch against my leg as he plopped down on the reclining chair. “I have faith. You’re going to be stuck looking at it just as long as I will. You won’t fuck it up.” He shifted, getting comfortable, and lowered his hand to reposition himself, his fingers lifting his bulge in such a way that I knew the action was more for my benefit than for any actual need of his own. “You know, Connor, we didn’t discuss how much this would cost, and wouldn’t you know, I seem to have misplaced my wallet.” As he spoke, the bulge in his pants plumped.

  My body responded, and I was glad I was sitting. “I don’t suppose you left it with your underwear.”

  “You know, I think I did.” He chuckled darkly. “But maybe you’d be open to figuring out some sort of… trade for payment?”

  Fuck. This man was going to be the death of me. But if so, I was going to enjoy dying. “You might notice there are other people in the shop.” I leaned back and spread my legs slightly. “And you also might notice you’re doing things to me that we don’t really want anyone to see.”

  He glanced down, grinned, and folded his hands over his lap. “I’ll take that as a yes on the trade, then?”

  “That’s a yes, but as a warning, let’s just say—” I shot another glance around, then back. “—it’s a good thing I’m not tattooing your ass, because I’m going to have to use it extensively this evening to make up for the amount of work I put into this thing.”

  Micah’s blue eyes twinkled. “Your design is rather spectacular. I imagine it’s going to take more than just one night to pay for it.”

  “It’s good to know you’re not undervaluing my work.” If we kept going like that, I’d barely get the tattoo started before I’d have him upstairs in my bedroom. “Now quit trying to see how hard you can make me, and let me get to work.”

  “Does that mean you want me to put my shirt back on?”

  “You might be right. The tattoo will probably come out better the more skin I can see.”

  Within half an hour, Monica had gone home, Jasmine seemed to be getting close to an ending place with her client, and I’d finished the thick scrolling outline of the violin now taking up most of the under portion of Micah’s left forearm. I sprayed Green Soap on his skin, swiped a paper towel, then cleared away the blood and ink. “What do you think?”

  Micah twisted his fist back and forth, flexing his forearm, causing the black ink to glisten. “I love it. Even if we just left it like this.” There was no teasing or flattery in his voice, just sincere approval.

  “We could, if you want. It does look pretty great just like it is. We can always come back later and fill it in if you change your mind.”

  The inside design was already stenciled with the carbon copy paper showing what it would look like. “No, I want it all.”

  “Okay.” It was the right decision. “Here we go.” I changed the needles on my tattoo gun for finer work and began to trace the insides with the black ink.

  Micah sucked in a short breath, the change of needles feeling different.

  “You all right? Need a break?”

  “Nah. It actually feels pretty good, in a strange way. Much better than when you tattooed my chest.”

  “I always find the chest a little more sensitive too.” I lifted the needle, glancing over at Jasmine, not that she could hear us that far away or over the sound of the two guns going, then refocused on my work, but kept my voice low. “Moses comes back tomorrow.” Micah knew that of course, but I needed assurance for some reason.

  “Tomorrow night, I know. You having second thoughts?”

  I kept my focus on the line around the vegetables I was inking. “No. I still think it’s a good idea to tell him in a couple of days, then the rest of the family.” It was crazy to think after all these years, the thing I dreaded the most was not only going to happen, but we were actually going to tell them ourselves instead of being found out. It was enough to make me want to put down the tattoo gun and just get it over with. Having no word from the Clarks since Moses had been gone almost seemed like confirmation that all was going to work out. No drama from them. No drama between Micah and me anymore. Maybe we really would be drama free.

  “I think that’s the right plan as well.” Micah started to reach for me with his free hand, then pulled away, knowing it wouldn’t be smart to touch my arm in that moment. “It really will be fine, Connor. Even if it takes some of them a little while, it will be fine.”

  I nodded but didn’t speak.

  Another fifteen minutes or so passed, and I had about a fourth of the inside blocked in. I’d been so focused on Micah’s tattoo, I hadn’t noticed Jasmine cashing out her client and letting him out the front door, until she stood over us. “That is fucking sweet.”

  I kept working, not looking up. “Thanks. It was Micah’s design, actually.”

  “Makes sense, art running in the family.”

  Micah corrected her. “Not hardly. It was my concept. Connor turned it from the equivalent of stick figures to this.”

  Jasmine considered, and I could hear the approval in her voice. “I’m glad you didn’t do the outline of the violin in green. Considering it’s the name of your shop, that would’ve been a little too on the nose. The scene inside makes it clear enough.”

  I paused, looking up at her. “See, no wonder we get along. That was my suggestion.”

  “Fine! Fine!” Micah gave an exaggerated sigh. “I get it. I’m not subtle. I would’ve done the thing in vibrant emerald.”

  Jasmine grimaced. I started to laugh at her expression, but her words cut it off. “Well, then, you need to thank your lucky stars for your brother. That would not have been a good call.”

  Micah didn’t even miss a beat. “I thank them every day.”

  Jasmine patted me on the shoulder. “I’m heading out, boss man. Do you want to lock up as I go?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.” I stood, gave her a quick one-armed hug, knowing that by this time next week, she and everyone else in Lavender Shores might have a lot to say about Micah and his brother.

  I followed Jasmine to the door and locked it behind her. I started to head back to Micah, but he was standing beside the chair and motioned across the shop. “Go shut those blinds. I’ll get these.” He walked to the window in front of my booth and pulled them down.

  Despite Jasmine’s comment about us being brothers, my body stirred, knowing where Micah was headed. I pulled the blinds down on the other side of the store, cutting off the view from the street. I crossed the shop, and stepped through the half wall partition that sectioned off my station. Micah was already reclining back in the seat, but this time, he was completely naked. Naked, and rock-hard.

  I halted, taking in his long, lithe body, splayed out where I’d worked on hundreds of clients. I’d never found the space particularly arousing before. From that moment on, I doubted I’d be able to look at my booth again without getting an instant erection. How was it, after all these years, after countless times of having Micah’s body, that he could still take my breath away. “You are so fucking hot.”

  He didn’t say anything, just stared at me, and though he was right-handed, he used his left to grab his cock and give a stroke. As he moved, a small trail of ink and a bit of blood rolled down from the fresh tattoo and dripped on his thigh. And look at that, a new kink was born.

  I swallowed.

  “You’re not allowed to touch yourself, Connor.”

  At his words, I glanced down. I’d gripped my hard-on through my jeans. I hadn’t even realized I’d started stroking. Moving my hand away, I looked back at Micah, who was grinning devilishly. “Hopefully you realize that you’ve fucked yo
urself, if you were planning on this being your last tattoo. We’ve already agreed to be monogamous, which is exactly how I want it, but you just created a tattoo fetish. There’s going to have to be a lot more tattoos for me to explore what all is happening in my mind right now.”

  He gave an unconcerned shrug. “Works for me. Maybe next time you can tattoo my ass while you’re fucking me.”

  I quite literally had to reach out to grab the half wall at that thought. God, that would be the hottest…. Even before I’d finished thinking that, a visual rose to my mind, and I shook my head “No. Absolutely not. No sex is hot enough to ruin that perfect ass of yours.”

  “Whatever you say.” Micah gave another stroke, this time pausing to swipe his fingers over the head of his cock and spread precome down the shaft. “Come taste me, Connor.”

  Holy fuck.

  I let go of the half wall, surprised I was able to remain upright with every ounce of my blood having found a permanent home in my dick. I crossed the small space, and started to lean down to take him in my mouth.

  “No, get the tattoo gun first.”

  I hesitated, glancing over at the gun and then back at Micah. “I’m not actually going to tattoo you while we have sex.”

  “I didn’t say you were. But we’re not having sex, not until my tattoo is done. We might be taking this thing out in trade, but I know better than to pay in advance if I want the job to be well done.” His grin widened.

  Between the two of us, Micah had always been the more sexually aggressive, but this was…. “What is this, exactly?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. Just going with it. Why? You complaining?”

  Complaining? I shook my head.

  “Good.” Micah gave his cock one quick shake. “Get the damn gun and get your mouth over here.”

  I did what he said. Grabbed the tattoo gun from where I’d left it, and then reached for his dick.

  “No.” He swatted my hand away. “Your hands can only touch me when they’re giving me my tattoo.” He shook his dick again. “I said taste me.”

  With the tattoo gun in my left hand, I use my right to steady myself on the side of the chair and leaned over him, taking Micah's cock into my mouth and swallowing him, running my tongue down his shaft, tasting the salty bitter tang of him, and then angling so that he slid into my throat.

  Micah cupped the back of my head, and thrust sharply into my mouth, causing me to gag. He thrust again, then released his hold.

  I popped off him, sucking in a breath, then bent over, ready to take him again, ready to swallow his load as soon as he would give it to me.

  “Nope.” Micah covered his cock with his hand. “That’s all for now. Time to get back to work.”

  I let out a whine of frustration. He grinned, and I laughed, having not meant to make such a noise. “I think you’re attempting to kill me.”

  “Quit trying to get out of finishing my tattoo.” His smile wavered for a second, looking like he was going to give into laughter, but then stayed in character, or whatever it was he was channeling. “Before you get started again, take off your shirt.”

  I didn’t argue, I didn’t comment, I just placed the tattoo gun down back on the tray beside the table and ripped off my shirt. Then I started to unbutton the jeans.

  “No. Those stay on. I’m just going to enjoy your chest and your back and all your tattoos for a while.”

  I gaped at him, and then pointed at my crotch. “You expect me to sit with this thing?” I glanced down, realizing a wet spot was already forming through the denim.

  Micah gave another shrug, unconcerned. “What? I’ve sat on it often enough. You can manage.” There was that twitch to his lips again. He released and extended his forearm. “Shut up and tattoo me, bitch.”

  I flinched.

  Micah finally laughed. “Okay, too far. It just got weird.”

  I didn’t reply. Oddly, the weird part had been that I liked it. But I wasn’t going to say so. Instead, I sat back on my stool, repositioning myself so I could do so without cutting my erection in half, and picked up the tattoo gun. “Can I start now? If you’re really going to make me finish this thing before I can fuck you, let’s get going.”

  Micah extended his arm, his laughter turning into a soft giggle.

  I flicked on the tattoo gun and cast a glance his way. “You might want to quit laughing, otherwise this landscape’s going to be a bit wobbly.”

  “Good point.” Micah cleared his throat and took a deep breath, getting control of himself.

  I paused for another second or two, making sure he wasn’t going to start laughing again, and then started on the field portion of his tattoo.

  Things were silent for several minutes as I worked. The tattoo truly was going to be a phenomenal piece of art. Inside the violin, near the bottom, close to Micah’s wrist were several larger vegetables—squash, corn, clumps of snap peas, and stalks of asparagus. Beyond those, as if back in the distance, was a field with various rows of produce. Near the widest part of the second swell of the violin, the field gave way to a horizon of blooming lavender. The uppermost portion of the body of the violin, the neck, pegs, and scroll at the top consisted of sky. The outline itself was clean yet intricate. But once colored in, Micah truly would have a piece of art on his body. To do the color right, would take hours. Maybe it wasn’t in Micah’s best plan to make me want to rush to be inside of him.

  “You should see the way the muscles of your arms flex as you’re working.” Micah’s voice was still thick with lust, but there was an air of reverence in it as well. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, Connor. Anywhere.”

  “I know you had an endless string of men in New York City, Micah. You don’t have to lie or flatter. You’ve already got me, remember?” I lifted the tattoo gun slightly and glanced at him.

  Micah was still rock-hard, and he wasn’t even touching himself, his body confirming the truth of his words. “I’m not lying. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

  As stunning as his body and his straining cock were, it was easy to look away and find his gaze so he could see the truth in my words as well. “Like I’ve said, I’ve always been yours.”

  Micah smiled his beautiful and kind smile. “I need you in me.”

  I couldn’t resist. “Oh, so you are going to pay in advance?”

  Micah sputtered and then laughed. “You’re right. Never mind.” He grabbed his cock with his right hand and began to stroke. “But if you take too long and I happen to enjoy myself a little too much, your loss.”

  Two could play that game. “You might know how unbelievably gorgeous you are, Micah Bryant, but I happen to know how truly magnificent my cock is. And I also know how much your ass enjoys devouring it. I’m not worried.”

  He trembled. Actually trembled. “That might’ve been the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Micah shifted, sitting up straighter, and he took on the tone he’d been using before. “I’m glad you mentioned that thing, actually. I think it’s time for you to get those pants off as you finish your job.”

  After placing the tattoo gun back on the tray, I stood and stepped out of my pants, removing my underwear at the same time. I gripped my dick, stroked my hand forward up the shaft, causing the foreskin to gather over the tip, and then pulled back, revealing the head. Two could play at that game as well.

  Micah trembled again, his hungry gaze focused on my fat cock. “Let me taste you.”

  I stepped forward, getting ready to line up my dick with his mouth, then realized there was no way I could let him touch me and not fuck him. So instead, I took a step back once more and sat down on the stool. “I thought I had work to do.” Before Micah could say something filthy and make it where I had no choice in the matter, I grabbed the tattoo gun, turned it on, and returned to outlining the field.

  Seventeen

  Micah

  It shouldn’t have been possible for Connor to get any
hotter. I would’ve said that no way my attraction for him could grow.

  But, holy shit, I’d been so, so wrong.

  It had been bad enough when we began and his muscles had strained his shirt as he wielded the tattoo gun over my skin. Even worse once the shirt was gone. Worse, if staring at a living wet dream could be a bad thing.

  But with Connor sitting on his little rolling stool, completely naked, he was the stuff of porn and fantasy, the realization of every lustful thought I’d ever had of him. He sat, shoulders slightly slumped as he bent over my forearm, the position causing the muscles of his shoulders and chest to be in constant motion, catching the light with every flex and twist as he worked.

  The position of my arm, and the tray containing the little caps filled with different colors of ink in a cleaning solution, cut off the view of his stomach and abs, but that was all right. It only drew attention to how he sat, legs splayed wide, his thick cock alternating from plump and juicy to fully erect and dripping. Depending on just how much I teased him.

  And as much as he claimed I was torturing him, I was fairly certain I was torturing myself even more. After a couple of hours of having his touch on me steadily, with our clothes disappearing piece by piece, I was so worked up that if he’d breathed wrong, I’d have shot my load without any further provocation, and wasted it all. I had intended on teasing him nearly constantly as he worked, stroking myself and then reaching down between us to stroke him. But I’d forgotten how still I needed to sit when getting a tattoo, and I’d barely get one or two strokes against my own dick before feeling the orgasm rise to the surface.

  The only way I discovered to continue the edging was to focus on the tattoo, watching Connor’s hand as he moved the gun over my arm. I’d never thought of there being a similarity to Connor’s talent and my own, but watching him, I couldn’t deny there was sort of music to his process. That Connor followed some rhythm in his head, so much so I could nearly hear the music.