by Stark, Lola
Fuck, shit, fuck.
“Babe, tell me you’re on the pill or something.” I looked up to Scarlett’s slightly dazed face. “Babe?” I prompted. “We didn’t use a rubber.”
We didn’t use a rubber? What?
It took a moment for Mace’s words to register.
I swallowed hard and answered softly, “We’re good. I’m on the pill.” The second those words left my mouth, he physically relaxed. The last thing either of us needed was a scare like that.
Fuck.
I couldn't believe I'd let go so much that I hadn't used protection. What the fuck was I thinking? Yes, I was on the pill, but that didn't stop any of the other shit from possibly happening. I took a deep breath, and tried to think rationally. Did I really think there was a chance of me getting some fucked up disease from Mace? No. He'd only just returned from a celibate life in the military. I wouldn't have let his dick anywhere near my vajayjay if I'd have thought he was rancid.
He must have read my face, because before I even opened my mouth to ask, he smirked at me. “I’m clean. You’re on the pill, and if you weren’t clean, I assume you would have said something before now?”
Fuck me. Apparently, not only was I an easy lay when it came to all things Mace, but I was pretty darn easy to read too. I really needed to work on my poker face.
He paused a moment before capturing my face. Cupping both cheeks, he leaned in close, “I’ve had you bare now, babe. Not goin’ back.”
I wanted to argue simply because he assumed I was okay with that, but I was okay with that, more than okay with that. Shit, he was getting to me. I liked Mace more than I should; he was getting under my skin. No feelings, Scarlett, I reminded myself.
God damn it!
I looked at my surroundings and realized we were in his mother’s bathroom.
Oh dear God!
He’d carried me up here. I doubted anyone hadn’t known why we had been gone so long. I jumped down off the counter and started getting dressed.
I whisper-hissed, “Mace, we’re in your mother’s bathroom. We just had sex in your mother’s bathroom. With your family downstairs.” I felt like gagging. I couldn’t decide if I was simply angry or panicking, maybe a little of both.
“They were occupied with that asshole. Think you broke his nose.” He picked up my hand that was throbbing and looked a little red. “Your hand okay? You’ll need some ice on that.”
The anger and panic slid away the moment the concerned expression hit his face. “It’s fine just a little tender.”
“Where’d you learn to hit like that?” Mace asked, running his thumb softly across my knuckles.
His sweetness was messing with my head. I needed some space and pronto. Pulling my hand away, I started for the door “My dad, he always said a girl should know how to defend herself. Guess now I know why.”
Mace was dangerous to me. Not just because he threatened to tear away at all the protective measures I’d taken to ensure nobody ever took me for a fool again, but because I wanted him, like I hadn’t wanted anyone before him, and it was scaring the crap out of me.
I excused myself and went back downstairs. Teeny was lounging by the pool, all signs of drama gone. “Teen, I’m having a God damn crisis,” I muttered heatedly under my breath.
Plonking down into the empty lounger beside her, she looked over the top of her sunglasses at me and smiled big. “Dunno what kinda crisis that is, but if the flush in your cheeks and your just-fucked hair is anything to go by, I’ll take a few crises for myself thanks”.
“You’re supposed to be helping me here. What the fuck am I doing? It was supposed to be sex—plain and simple. Casual sex. That was all it was meant to be!” I whined.
Stop acting like a damn girl!
A look of annoyance crossed Teeny’s face before she scowled at me “What the fuck you’re doing is pulling your head outta your ass and getting with the motherfucking program, babe.”
“What the fuck?”
She calmed herself, turned back to me and said, “Scar, inside right now is a sexy-as-hell guy, who’s so into you, it’s kinda scary. He’s a decent guy from what I can see, and you are standing in your own way. What if he’s it, babe? What if he’s not just another asshole wrapped in tin foil? What if he’s your knight in shining armor? Are you going to throw that chance away because you’re a little scared?”
Well she kind of made sense. What could it hurt? It was only my heart, right?
Just as I had been about to tell her what I was feeling for Mace and just how scared I was, I felt his presence behind me, followed by his deep voice by my ear, “Keep this on it for a bit, babe. You won’t be inking anyone for a few days, but this’ll keep the swelling to a minimum.” Mace reached over and gently placed a towel full of ice on my hand, kissed the side of my neck and walked off toward the drinks cooler. Teeny and I both watched after him as he grabbed three beers and headed back our way.
“What if he breaks my heart?”
“What if he doesn’t?” Teeny answered, looking past me.
I hated when she was right.
I jumped up. As I walked past Mace, he handed me my beer and wrapped a large strong arm around my waist halting my progress. “Starting to get it now, aren’t you? I’m gonna get what I want here, Scar. Forget casual sex, babe; this isn’t just a bit of fun,” he said, snuggling his face into my neck.
My heart skipped a beat. Avoiding his question all together, I muttered, “Goin’ to change.”
I turned and went to get ready for the pool, thinking that Mace might just be that dream guy I was chasing. If it wasn’t for the niggling feeling he was hiding something...
The rest of the day was a blast; the sun was shining, the drinks were cold, there was great food and even better friends. Teeny, Haven, Milla, a few of the other girls and I decided to play an impromptu game of water volleyball, leaving everyone in a fit of giggles. Mostly caused by Teeny and I dunking each other; we were both competitive even when on the same team.
Mace had been hands on since our little chat earlier, always finding a reason to have his hand on me, kiss me or just be near me. I realized quickly he was a very attentive guy, which didn’t bother me in the slightest. If I was honest with myself, I loved the feel of his strong, hard body pressed up against my back, his thick arm wrapped around my waist, hand on my hip in a slightly possessive but still sweet gesture. He made me feel all that warm, squishy shit deep in my stomach.
I was still at a standstill with myself, but figured what was the harm in lapping up the affection for a while, having a little fun while it lasted. I wasn’t leading him on; he knew where I stood.
Thick arms wrapped around my waist. Mace’s warm body pressed against my back as he kissed my neck and whispered against the shell of my ear, “Ready to go, babe?”
“Mmm-hmm, sure. Can you take me to the shop first?” Earlier in the day, I’d had an idea, and seeing as the swelling had gone down in my hand, allowing me to move it freely, I figured now was as good a time as any.
“What’re we doing here?” Mace asked as I turned on the lights in the back of the parlor and made my way to my station.
“You said you wanted more ink. You’re getting an afterhours appointment”
Surprised, he asked, “You’re gonna do it now? Are you sure? What about your hand?
“My hand’s fine now, see.” I flexed my hand a few times to show him it was okay. “I’ve got the sketch you drew up ready to go; all I need is my canvas.” I pulled all my equipment out and checked everything was wrapped and set in the right places. I sat on my rolling stool in front of Mace which put me directly at crotch level, really not the best place for my concentration at that point. Clearing my throat, I spoke softly “You need to lose the—Oh…”
Mace stood before me shirtless; his bare chest and washboard abs on display made my mouth water. My gaze followed his stomach down along the light trail of hair leading into the top of his pants, those perfect V shaped lower abdomina
l muscles were enough to make any woman want to lean forward and lick them. My panties became wet as my thoughts careened directly to the gutter. “Hop up on the table, and lie down on your left side for me, please.”
I cleaned and prepped Mace’s arms. The whole while I felt his eyes on me, heating my skin from the inside out. Placing the stencil was a little distracting to say the least, the tips of my fingers running over his smooth skin, the feel of his accelerated heartbeat, the warmth of his body. His intoxicating smell so close to me had me breathing heavier than normal. Looking over to see he had been watching intently, sent goose bumps across my skin.
“You’re so damn pretty, Scarlett,” he told me quietly. His eyes held the conviction his voice showed.
Rather than betray my haywire feelings by replying, I instead asked, “This sitting where you want?” I nodded to his ribs; even I could hear the breathless way my words came out.
The hand holding my tattoo gun came down gently to his skin, the vibrations added to the familiar feelings that always came with inking someone coursed through my body. Something about the buzz of my machine, the lines, the patterns, the curves in every piece of work I permanently made on skin, the power in my hands to make or break a tattoo in one single movement of my wrist, oddly left me with a sense of controlled calm. I would slip into a zone where I concentrated on nothing but the ink and my canvas. The moment a customer sat down before me, they became another of my masterpieces. Whether it was a small piece, a half of their arm or their entire back, it mattered no less to me. Skin and ink, ink on skin: it was my life, my love, my passion. Every little bit of my art deserved my undivided attention and the utmost care.
Mace’s skin was a shocking contrast under my hands; rock hard muscles which I was positive he worked hard to maintain, covered with perfectly smooth soft skin, teamed with a scar or two; the only things marring his complexion. His body was stunning, a work of art on its own, with masculinity that could take your breath away. A body like his was worth waiting to work on, images that would come together perfectly flashed through my mind; there were so many things I’d like to do to his body and not all of them were done with ink.
Mace had chosen a memorial tattoo to honor his late father; he explained a few things he wanted, leaving me to draw it up for him. It was gorgeous, complex and very fitting. Hector, Mace’s father, had grown roses most of his life; it was one of his many passions. A large black and grey scale cross that started under his arm and ran almost the entire length of his ribs was intricately wrapped in a rose bush featuring three vibrant red roses, all in different states of bloom, representing different things. The first in full bloom for the full life he had lived, the second wilted, though still bright with petals falling from it for the loss of his life cut so short, and the third a closed rosebud signifying the life events he would miss not being here, his children growing, falling in love, starting families of their own. Underneath this, a tiny little child’s hand held gently by a protective masculine one. This part I didn’t quite understand. I did gather it was of strong importance and Mace hadn’t seemed eager to explain, so I left it alone.
Four long hours later, I took one last swipe of his ribcage with paper towel to remove the excess ink; the result was jaw dropping. Your own work is always the hardest to critique; however, this piece was breathtaking and made me a little bit proud. I reached over him, grabbed my camera from the shelf against the wall and asked, “You mind if I take a few photos?”
“Knock yourself out, babe” His voice sent chills down my spine, the man had a fucking awesome voice, all dark and rumbling. It was like sex, covered in chocolate, decadent and so very bad for you, but so good you couldn’t deny yourself any of it, just like the rest of him.
“I’m just going to put some tattoo cream on it and wrap you up. You know the drill, yeah? Take the covering off in an hour, wash it with warm antibacterial soap and pat it dry with a soft towel.” He just stared up at me with hooded eyes making my breath hitch. I started smearing the cream across his ribcage as I was talking, concentrating hard so as not to look at his face. Usually, I was all business when inking somebody, but having my hands on Mace affected me like nothing else. Feeling his steady heartbeat under my fingertips, the pure power that radiated off him, couldn’t be missed. There was something so erotic about my hands marking his skin. I was so turned on by then I could barely stop myself from licking him head to toe. “Make sure you keep applying the cream, morning and night until it’s completely healed. Don’t scratch or rub at it and try not to stretch the skin.”
My fingers tingled every time they swept over the taut skin of his side, my nipples already hard peaks brushing against the cotton of my dress with even the slightest movement, my core muscles clenching with want, panties drenched. Mace had such an effect on me, his mere presence and the feeling of his watching my every move made me crazy with lust.
Trying to be some kind of professional and not wanting to rip his clothes off and pounce on him in the middle of my very sterile shop, I turned away mentally shaking my head to clear the dirty thoughts running through it. I bent to retrieve the roll of plastic wrap from the bottom drawer in my rolling table. As I stood, Mace’s large hands gripped my hips and pulled me back into his body. He’d sat up on the table; I could feel his choppy breathing brushing across my neck and back, making my control slip just a little further. My back to his front, I could feel his racing heartbeat as his fingers gripped harder into my hips.
“If I don’t taste you soon, Scar, I think I might go out of my mind.” His gravelly voice came close to my ear, sending an involuntary shiver through me. Mace’s lips came down gently just behind my ear. I felt rather than heard his deep inhale. “You always smell sweet, like cherries.”
My pulse picking up speed at his hushed words, I murmured, “It’s my body wash.” Was I mentally challenged? That was the only thing that came to mind. He’d once again scrambled my brain with a touch and a few words.
God damn him!
“Mace, I need to wrap your side.” Mace of course ignored me, his hands roaming up my thighs painfully slow. When one hand reached the apex of my thighs, brushing across my soaked panties, a whimper escaped my parted lips.
Mace groaned deeply from his chest. “So damn wet for me, baby. I need to taste you right now.”
“We shouldn’t do this here,” I spoke, not sure who I was trying to convince.
His fingers moved my panties across, and one of his long thick digits parted my folds, swirling the evidence of my arousal around my clit in a torturously slow circle. “Mace,” I whispered, not sure if I wanted him to stop or give me more. The moment his hand left my aching sex, his finger went to his mouth tasting my wetness. My body vetoed my brain and went with “hell fucking yes, more baby more”.
“I’m gonna take you right here on this table, Scar, so every time you’re sitting here working, all you’ll be able to think about is coming apart on my mouth. Me fucking you hard, you screaming for me.” His words tore a moan from my throat. “You want that don’t you, Scar? You want me to drive my cock into you right here on this table.”
“Please, Mace, please, I need it, now,” I begged, panting, squirming to relieve some of the aching between my legs.
Mace abruptly stood, coming around behind me and spinning me so I was facing the table with him behind me. “Bend over the table.” The commanding voice he used sent an electric jolt straight to my pussy as he put his hand on my back, one at my waist, and bent me over, chest down to the red leather-covered tattoo table. He lifted my sundress and ripped my panties clean off, causing a flood of arousal from me. I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight. I just needed him. I needed to come. Somewhere in the back of my lust-dazed mind, I realized we were about to have sex in my shop, not the most hygienic activity, but I just couldn’t bring myself to give a damn.
Mace’s fingers invaded my aching pussy fast and hard, his other hand running slowly up and down my ass cheek. I became frustrated; he h
ad two of his glorious fingers inside me perfectly still, not moving, I needed him to move like I needed to breathe.
Taking matters into my own hands, I started rocking my hips gently back and forward, even the slightest movement causing heat to bloom all across my body. Moaning and rocking, I started to move a little faster, Mace still running his hand across my backside. “That’s it, baby, ride my fingers.” His voice was heavy with desire.
Mace reached up under the front of my dress and pinched one pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger; at the same time, he made a come hither motion with the two fingers he had inside of me. “Oh, fuck, Mace, I’m—I…Oh…” I lost the ability to speak, my body afire, what threatened to be an all-consuming orgasm barreling toward me.
Mace moaned deep, his hand coming back to my ass as my walls started to contract. Rocking back and forth faster and harder, a quick sting came across my backside.
He’d spanked me. I’d never been spanked before. Holy shit, that was good; it was enough to send me free falling over the cliff into an orgasm like never before. Shouting out my release and stilling, Mace suddenly filled me with his thick cock, slamming in, prolonging the shudders wracking my body.
Sweet heaven above, I think I might black out.
Mace pumped hard and fast gripping my hips as I used the edge of the table as leverage, pushing myself back into his groin, meeting him thrust for thrust. Another orgasm tore through me as Mace thrust deep one more time and stilled, his cock jerking inside me as he came. Collapsing over me, one shaking forearm holding him up so as not to squash me, he groaned.
As my pulse slowed and my breathing returned to normal, thoughts rushed at me. I’d been spanked, never in my life had I been handled with such raw need and power during sex, and I fucking loved it. Mace knew what he was doing. He knew what he liked, and even more so, he seemed to be in tune with what I needed even if I didn’t. He reached over, grabbed some tissues cleaning us up before pulling us both up onto the table. Tucking me into the side of him, with my head on his chest, his large muscled arm wrapped around my body and minding his new tattoo, I asked, “Did you hurt it?”