Missing Ink

by E J Frost

  “Tobacco,” Austin confirms. “Don’t make those a regular thing. People think they’re better for you than cigarettes but they’re not. So, date, huh? Sounds like you had a fun night.”

  “I did.” I really, really did.

  “Anyone you want me to call if you don’t check in?”

  I chew my lip while I consider. Ugh. “Master Logan. I’ve had some trouble at the shop this week, so if I don’t check in, yeah, Master Logan.”

  “If Mac doesn’t end up staying the night, you want me to come over?”

  “No, but thanks for the offer.”

  Austin yawns audibly. “You good?”

  “Yup, you?”

  “Uh-huh. You joining us for drinks this week?”

  Most of the Blunts house subs meet up for drinks once a week. Until recently, it was just a showcase for the club’s reigning queen bee, Rachel, and her evil clique to gossip about everyone. Since I’ve never wanted to breathe the same air as Rachel and her cronies, and since I gave no fucks what they said about me, I never went. But Logan punted Rachel and her master over to New Jersey after Rachel snarled at Emily once too often. So maybe the weekly “Sub Crawl” will be worth going to now.

  “Yeah, I will. Text me the time and place.”

  “Will do. G’night, B.”

  “Night.”

  I pop my phone in the charger and turn to see Mac leaning in the bedroom doorway. He’s stripped down to dark boxers and I slurp up the sight of him. Between Blunts and tattooing, I’ve seen a lot of different bodies. Mac’s isn’t a young man’s body. He’s still hard and muscular, but there’s something weathered about him. Like he’s sculpted from granite instead of marble. His body has a density to it, like his stomach where he has a solid slab of muscle instead of a six-pack. His skin is grooved in places that invite exploration with my lips and tongue. There are tracings of silvered hair on his chest and thighs that I want to feel prickle my fingertips.

  Can a man’s body have character? Mac’s does.

  He watches me drink him in for a moment before his mouth kicks up in a smile. “Safe call, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I might not always want you to feel safe with me, but I always want you to be safe. Understand the difference?”

  “I do, sir.” I cross the room to him, giving in to the pull of those summer-sky eyes.

  He lifts his hand, a blindfold dangling from two long fingers. “Feel safe enough with me when we’re alone to use this?”

  “Yes, sir.” I stop in front of him and turn around so he can put the blindfold on me.

  Losing my sight always expands my other senses. I become hyper aware of the small sounds of Mac’s movement as he ties the blindfold, the deep rush of his breathing, even the very faint tick of his watch. He trails his fingertips down my neck after he seats the blindfold, then envelops me in a hug from behind, crossing his forearms over my ribs. The warmth of his body encloses me. The rich scent of him chases away the last trace of mint in my nose. After realizing why Ten wasn’t trying for any connection with me, being immersed in Mac when we’re about to have sex—at fucking last!—isn’t just a turn on, it fills some of those empty, cold places inside me.

  I tip my head back onto his shoulder and smile blindly up at him. “Hey, sir.”

  He nuzzles my temple. “Hey, bold girl. I like the way you feel in my arms. I’ve been enjoying it all day. I think we might need a repeat or two of having me at your beck and call.”

  “You’ll be my Beck and Call Top?”

  He nips my ear. “Seems only fair since you’re going to be giving me your ass on a daily basis.”

  “Did we agree that, sir?”

  I’m totally up for it if we did; I just don’t remember that discussion.

  “That’s going to the top of my list of rules for you.”

  “Do I ever get to see this list, or am I just supposed to guess?”

  He releases my ribs, sweeps a hand up my front, and pushes two fingers into my mouth.

  “So much sass out of such a little mouth,” he growls in my ear. “I think it’s time to put it to better use.”

  Sucking? Moaning? Those seem like better uses. I’d even be good with screaming as long as it’s the orgasmic kind.

  I suck lightly on his fingers. “Mmmokay, srr.”

  “You’ve had my cock in that eager slut mouth plenty today, girl, so you’re not getting it in that hole tonight. For tonight only, you have permission to lick, suck, and kiss me anywhere else. You can mark me. I want your mouth full of my taste while I have my cock in your other holes.”

  It doesn’t matter that he’s blindfolded me because my eyes roll back at his filthy talk. Fuuuck.

  “Before I bind your hands, take off your clothes except those tights. I’ll buy you another pair, but they’re getting ruined. I’ve been waiting for hours to tear them apart.”

  “Yssr.” I’d usually be tense and grumpy about ruining perfectly good clothes, but I want him to fuck me so bad, at this point I wouldn’t argue with him if he wanted to trash everything I’m wearing. My tights? He can shred them to ladders as long as he sticks his dick in me sometime soon.

  I pull the dress off over my head, getting stuck when Mac doesn’t take his fingers out of my mouth. I drape the dress over his wrist before I unhook and shed my bra. I can’t see where it lands; I don’t care. I just want to get naked so this man will finally give me some damn D.

  “Have you gone commando since I told you to, my very dirty girl?”

  “Yssr.” I probably should have stopped following his rules after he ditched me and went off to find his daughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I even kept a little list on my phone of the times I felt vulnerable during the week the way he told me to but fuck if I’m giving him that unless he asks for it.

  “That’s my goddess. So deserving of worship.” His warm lips brush my shoulder, slip up my throat and along my jaw. My knees go liquid at hearing him call me his goddess again. His fingers slide out of my mouth and I hear the soft swoosh of my dress falling to the floor. Then he pushes his wet fingers down under the waistband of my tights, over my tummy and mons, and hooks them in the fabric at my crotch. His other hand plucks at my thigh. The tights bite at the back of my legs as he pulls his hands apart. The tortured rip of fabric precedes the kiss of cool air on my pussy, and then my ass cheeks as he tears the tights to the back waistband.

  I shiver at the sensation. “Should I wear crotchless tights next time, sir?”

  Mac chuckles. “Might be cheaper, but not as much fun. Cross your wrists behind your back, little goddess. I’m going to bind you before I fuck you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I tuck my arms behind my back, crossing my wrists as instructed, feeling the slight strain in my shoulders. That’s going to get worse the longer we go at it. I probably should have stretched out while he was getting ready instead of calling Austin.

  Mac’s warmth moves away from me, then returns at my back. Instead of cold metal or plastic, something soft and fuzzy encloses my wrist. Cuffs. Nice and lined, too. He buckles them around each wrist, then there’s a snap as he attaches them to each other. I relax my shoulders and feel the two inches of play I have. It’s comfortable; I sigh with relief. “Thank you, sir,” I say. “Sometimes, by the end of the day, my arms get kind of sore.”

  “Thank you for telling me. If the bondage becomes uncomfortable while I’m fucking you, let me know. I want your focus to be on your holes, not on your arms.”

  A hot shiver runs down my spine whenever he talks about my holes and what he’s going to do to them. I know, in the rational part of my brain, that Mac sees me as a person, not just a collection of places to stick his dick. But my deviant, base urge to be reduced to nothing more than a thing to fuck sits up and begs every time those words leave his lips.

  I feel his warmth move around me, and his hand trails across my waist, just above the band of my tights, as he moves. “Mmm, you look good enough
to eat.”

  Fuck, yes, eat me! I strangle enough of my hind-brain’s howling that all that comes out is a whimper. Mac stops in front of me and cups my breasts in his hot hands.

  “I think we might need something to keep these nipples occupied while I’m claiming those holes, eh, girl?”

  I shake my head, because I hate nipple clamps, but I’m still in enough control of my mouth to keep it closed.

  “I ordered these for you while I was with my daughter,” he continues. “I was thinking about you, Bren, even if I did a piss-poor job of showing it. Next time we play, I’ll let you see them. They’re decorated with little roses. Reminded me of your tattoos.”

  He runs his fingers down the back of my neck, which sends another wild shiver through me. The sensation distracts me from the jingle of a chain. Nothing, however, distracts me from the bite as he closes a clamp around my nipple. I force air out through my nose, waiting for the pinch to ease. Instead, Mac flips his fingertips against my breast, and something snaps closed over the tip of my nipple, mashing it down into the clamp. I try to twist away from the pain. My yowl doesn’t drown out Mac’s truly evil chuckle.

  While I’m trying to breathe through the burning in my tits, Mac turns me, walks me forward a couple of steps, wraps his hand around my nape, and bends me over. My chest and cheek hit a soft surface before I expect it. He’s piled pillows or something on my bed, so I’m bent at a right angle. The perfect height for him to fuck my holes. My eyes roll back again and my thighs, bared by the hole he’s torn in my tights, slip wetly against each other.

  “Honor bondage, goddess,” Mac growls, his heat coming up against the backs of my legs. “Keep your feet or ankles touching. If your hip or leg cramps, tell me.”

  I inch my feet together and feel the stretch in my ass, thighs, and calves. Mac’s hot hand lands on my ass and traces the stretch down to my knees. With one hand on my nape, pinning me to the pillows, he leans over me and kisses the back of my neck, down my spine, before setting his teeth into my ass. The bite’s not as sharp through my tights but he bites harder. I stop myself from kicking only with a freaking titanic effort and channel my protest into a high squeal. Mac smacks my unbitten cheek, while he bites his way across my tights to exposed skin. I brace myself for another vicious bite, but his warm lips whisper over my skin instead. The contrast between what I expect and what I get makes my head swim.

  After lavishing kisses over my ass-cheeks, Mac’s heat and weight lift off me. The rip of a foil package drags me out of my brain-haze. I’m about to ask why he’s using a condom when his test came back clean when he smooths a plastic-y sheet down my crack. Another dental dam.

  I can’t help wriggling my ass. In frustration, because I’ve been waiting days for his cock, but also in anticipation, because with one exception, the Blunts Doms don’t eat ass and holy fuck do I want that.

  Mac rests one hand on the small of my back, keeping me pinned to the pillows, before he kneels behind me. His breath warms the dam, then his pointed tongue runs up and down my crack, jostling the plug with each stroke. There are a ton of nerves there and he’s lighting up each and every one. My toes curl so hard into the rug my joints pop. “Mac, sir!” I groan.

  His hand lifts and slams down on my ass again. He keeps hitting the same spot and I’m sure he’s doing it on purpose to magnify the sting. While he spanks me, he keeps working up and down my crack, sparking pleasure through every nerve. When I’m about to go out of my mind, he tugs the dam up and lashes at my exposed pussy. My eyes don’t just roll back, they cross in my head. Dayum, he has a strong tongue. Does he practice on watermelons or something? He licks into me harder and harder, until it feels like he’s bruising me with his tongue.

  “Fuuuuck,” I moan. “Your tongue should be registered as a weapon, sir.”

  He pulls back from eating me out to laugh, then slaps me right on my wet pussy. I have to twist my ankles together to keep from kicking, which earns me three more slaps. The spark and sting forces a high whine out of me.

  “I love the color your pussy turns when you’re aroused, little goddess,” Mac growls before he sets back in on me. More bruising licks and suckles to my clit and then he sucks in a mouthful of skin and freaking chews on it. I howl with the sensation which careens back and forth between intense pleasure and sharp pain. Just as I’m sure he’s going to tear the skin, he eases back and kisses me almost tenderly. My head spins from the see-saw of sensations.

  “Time to fuck,” he growls.

  I can’t help it. “Thank fuck!”

  Mac laughs, a deep sound, more of possession than of glee. He shifts behind me and I expect him to slam into me. Instead, he takes a moment to reposition me on the pillows and peel off the dam before he plants his hand between my shoulders. With his other hand, he rubs the mushroom tip of his cock up and down my swollen and sensitive lips. He notches it against my clit and rubs it around and around until I’m panting. “Please, sir.”

  “That’s my girl, what do you say?”

  “Please can I have your cock, sir?”

  “That’s a good girl.” He slides his tip back up to my opening, pushes in, that thick tip spreading me deliciously, before he pulls back out and rubs his head around and around again.

  “Please, sir, please, sir.”

  He pushes the tip into me again and stops, holding me spread open. He lifts his hands from my back and gives me a hard slap on the sorest spot on my ass. I yelp and clench around him, which makes him groan. “Just like that. Again, girl.”

  He slaps my ass over and over while I bleat and shudder and squeeze. He pumps against each clench, stimulating the nerves at my opening with his coronal ridge in a way I had no idea drove me crazy until now. I twist helplessly on the bed as the sensations rise and rise until there’s a huge burst of light behind my closed eyelids and waves of release flow up into my belly.

  With a deep grunt, Mac pushes all the way in during my orgasm and seats himself. He’s long enough to nudge my cervix and I see more stars and feel a second set of waves.

  “Fuuuuck, sir.”

  “That’s right, goddess. You’re getting fucked and I’m not giving you a minute’s rest. Here it comes.”

  He pulls back and then hammers home.

  “Oh. My. God!” I shout as he pounds me. I knew he had serious strength in his hips and ass but I was not prepared for this. He’s fucking me so hard the bed inches across the floor with the strength of his thrusts and I start laughing. I can’t help it.

  Mac’s hot hand lands on my shoulder to anchor me and pull me back into his thrusts but I feel him laughing. His laughter turns to long groans as he comes in a rush of warmth against my core. Oh, I’ve missed the feeling of a guy coming inside me. It’s sticky and stinky afterwards, but in the moment, there’s nothing as intimate. Mac collapses over my back, his breath humid on my nape, his hand kneading my shoulder. Bet I have bruises in the shape of his fingers there tomorrow.

  “That didn’t suck, sir,” I say as I get my breath back.

  Mac chuckles and rubs his face between my shoulders before biting down hard enough to bruise. I yelp and trail off into soft laughter.

  Mac pushes up, stretching my skin between his teeth before letting go and kissing the spot he’s bitten. “Nope, didn’t suck at all.” He lifts up and slaps my ass. “You don’t have permission to move yet unless you’re cramping. Are you cramping?”

  “No, sir. I’m good.”

  I am. Warm and languid and relaxed in the wake of that orgasm. It wasn’t earth-shattering—although the bed did move—but it was damn good. And it was so satisfying to have him come in me. In another minute or two when it’s snaking down my leg, I won’t be as happy about it. But right now, I’m just glorying in being his cum-bucket.

  I wait for him to withdraw, but he doesn’t. He adjusts his stance so his legs are bracketing mine. I can feel his cock in me, no longer a battering ram, but a warm, gently-pulsing weight. His hands settle on my shoulders and begin rubbing. He
works down my arms. Is he giving me a massage after he dicked me across the room? It feels like he is. And fuck if it doesn’t feel good. By the time he unclips the cuffs, although he doesn’t take them off, I’m a limp noodle.

  “I’m going to pull out of you now and clean us both up. You still don’t have permission to move unless you’re cramping.”

  “I don’t have any muscles left to cramp, sir.”

  Mac chuckles. “Okay, bold girl. We’ll put that to the test in a minute. Let your arms relax to your sides.”

  My arms slump to the bed without any conscious direction.

  Mac rubs my ass as he withdraws. It’s not the yank of a guy who’s done and wants out. It’s a smooth retraction that lets me close up behind him without feeling abandoned. Once he’s out, he wipes his wet dick on my ass. That should piss me off, but it just makes me feel all the more buzzingly, happily used.

  Mac moves around for a minute, then starts rubbing something cool and damp over my skin, working down from my shoulders. I almost protest when he wipes the stickiness off my ass. Am I insane for liking being his tissue? Yes, definitely, but that’s nothing new. This man makes me abandon every ounce of common sense.

  He finishes wiping up between my legs and jostles the plug in a way that makes my closed eyes cross. “How’s this feeling?”

  At the moment, when I’m wallowing in afterglow, it just feels tingly. “Still green, sir. Green as grass.”

  Mac snorts. “That green, huh? Good, because that’s where my cock’s going in about twenty minutes.”

  He wants to fuck again? Don’t older guys roll over and go to sleep after they come? “That’s some impressive stamina for a geezer, sir.”

  That gets me a hard ass-slap, which, in my euphoric state, just makes me giggle.

  “That’s Master Geezer to you, smartass. Get your good leg up onto the bed and roll onto it. I want you on your side. Arms out in front of you so I can clip your cuffs to the rail.”

  My bed’s simple—I didn’t have much of a budget when I decorated the apartment—but the metal bedframe has a rail at the head and foot that create ideal attachment points. I’ll admit that’s why I picked the bed. I haven’t been cuffed to it before, though.