More Than Meets the Ink (6 page)

“Oh God, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He hissed as he grazed something metallic. A clit ring. He was going to come in his pants. She was exceeding all his expectations by far, and those had been frigging high to begin with.

“You have a piercing on your clit?” he all but shouted out.

She laughed at his outraged tone. He didn’t mean it as a reproach, but come on; she looked all sweet and soft on the outside, the perfect good girl. And then she turned her smoky eyes at him, and surprise, surprise, she was a she-wolf. A sex goddess. With a clit ring. And he was the one who was supposed to be a bad boy? Please.

“On the hood of my clit,” she corrected him, clearly amused.

“If tats make me a bad boy, I’d like to know what that clit ring makes you, baby.”

“Bored,” she answered, shrugging, trying to sound nonchalant. He studied her for a second. She wasn’t fooling him; she was far from unaffected. As he purposefully brushed the piece of metal with his fingertips and then caressed her swollen clit, shivers raked her body and she gripped his shoulders, her breathing labored.

“No, sweetheart. It makes you a wicked pirate princess. Now I’m in trouble. You’re going to make me come in my pants like a fucking freshman.”

“Hardly.” She rolled her hips, offering herself to his touch. A ragged moan left her lips as he let his fingers wander south, sinking into her tender folds. She was hot and wet, her folds creaming, ready for him. Shit, getting her to come was going to be damn sweet torture for him.

“I’m going to love doing you with my tongue,” he mumbled into her mouth. “Later, though. First I want you to explode around my fingers.”

Her scent was all around him, making his mouth water, getting his hard-on to flex and pulse in agony, when suddenly someone knocked on the truck window.

“Hey, James, is that you?” he heard.

Pop
. There went the bubble.

Tate screamed and jumped away from his lap, trying all at once to close her blouse and button her pants.

It took James a couple of seconds to reroute enough blood supply from his cock to his brain to be able to fully understand what was going on and get his bearings. They’d obviously been so busy with each other, panting like horny teenagers, the glass so steamed up that they hadn’t seen anybody approaching.
Crap
. On second thought, thank God for the steamed-up glass…

“Wait here,” he said to Tate as he rearranged himself and stepped outside, immediately closing the door behind him to give her privacy.

It was Norman, the security guard. Nice guy, horrible timing.

By the time he managed to shake him off, the moment was totally gone. Not for him—his boner was alive and well, didn’t even notice the interruption—but for her. He peeked through the door. Yep, she was all buttoned up, already picking up her purse and scrambling out, looking as embarrassed as hell.

“I have to go.” She hurried past him, avoiding looking at him.

He chuckled, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her to him. No way was he going to let her go without getting to taste her again.

“A pity we got interrupted,” he whispered. Cupping her by the nape of her neck, he took her mouth. Although a bit more reserved now, she licked at his tongue, allowing him access to her. He could smell her heat on his fingers, feel her nipples rasping at his chest, and it was all making him insane with need. His dick was screaming at him to drag Tate to a place where they could be intimate, but he knew there was no way she’d go for it now. Nothing to do but grit his teeth and beat the urge down.

“Good night there,” someone called out to them.

The intrusion startled her into breaking the kiss. A couple, Mr. and Mrs. Thorncape if he was correct, was waving at them from afar. Damn, the normally deserted parking lot was worse than a fucking Fourth of July parade today.

Without breaking their embrace, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard. “You know how they say old people lose hearing and sight as they grow older?” She nodded in amusement. “A total lie, I assure you. Come on, sweetheart; I’ll walk you home.”

Tate offered him the sweetest of smiles as they fell quietly into step.

“So that you know, I am not giving up on you.”

“You aren’t?”

“No, I am not. You agreed to a hot fling, remember? That includes bouts of steamy sex. And I’ve never had a wicked pirate princess in my bed before. I can’t wait to debauch her.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah right, like I’m going to believe I’m your first waxed, pierced pussy.”

God, she didn’t say that. She didn’t, did she
? At her words, his cock got even harder, throbbing in agony, straining against his jeans, begging to be released. He’d have to beat it into submission if he intended to pee anytime this century. Concentrating on walking without injuring himself, he shook his head. “Yes, you are, at least with such an innocent face. I’m not as wild as you think. I’m pretty much a traditionalist.”

She gave him another of those yeah-right looks but remained silent.

On her doorstep, he kissed her again, deep, making his point clear. Tomorrow he’d be better prepared, and she wasn’t escaping him. Before he could finish, the porch light turned on, bathing them with bright light. Tate scurried away from him with an ironic smile on her lips as her mom harrumphed from the window.

Jesus Christ, this fucking community was damn hard on a guy’s nerves, not to mention a guy’s cock. This was going to be worse than being back in Catholic school.

Chapter Three

The barbecue was delicious, the company great, and her mom was smiling. Well, she did frown every time her gaze strayed to Mr. Bowen, but other than that, she seemed to be having a great time. Tate sure was. James had pulled her to his side as soon as they’d arrived, and had that cat-eating-the-canary look on his face again. It was a bit unnerving. She wasn’t escaping him today, that much was certain. Tate knew she’d been miraculously saved by the bell the other night, and yesterday too, as they’d had people tagging along all day, and during the night they’d got dragged into playing bingo until the wee hours. James had been a great sport about it all, ready to go along with any activity those crazy seniors pushed them into, always finding an opening to joke with her and touch her.

Today it was going to be another story altogether. That predatory glint in his eye was an unspoken promise. Scary too. And the worst thing was she could hardly wait. After all the lectures she’d given Elle about her poor choices, about hooking up with the wrong men, here she was, salivating after that sexy piece of tattooed ass—rubbing her hands at the prospect of sampling it. How stupid was that? But this was different, she assured herself; there was no danger here, her heart was safely tucked away, she was after vacation fun and sex. No love, no commitment or long-term anything. James was…hormonal relief—fucking material.

She’d dressed for the occasion; a teeny-weeny summer dress that encased her boobs, making them look bigger, which, given their sad B-cup condition, was welcome. The skirt was short, well above her knees, and it was loose, floating all over her thighs and her not-so-small ass. She’d bought the dress because it was damn sexy in an innocent, understated sort of way. She’d worn it once, for a company dinner, but Aidan had hit the roof, accused her of going all sluttish in front of his bosses, which of course wasn’t true. It didn’t matter though; like a good, obedient girl, she’d never worn it again. She hadn’t been sure whether a guy like James would appreciate the push and pulls of it, but from the expression on his face when he saw her, she realized he did. He liked it a lot.

Fortunately, he got drafted to barbecue duty right away, so she was in no imminent danger of being kidnapped and ravished on the spot. Although as soon as he took off his shirt and began taking care of the fire, she felt her jaw going slack, her libido kicking in, and began considering the advantages of the kidnapping and ravishing scenario. She’d been shooed away when she’d tried to help Mrs. Nicholson and her mom with the salad, so she just parked herself in a chair in Mr. Bowen’s backyard, where the barbecue had been moved to at the last minute, and watched the show. Under the intense Florida sun, James looked like a damn pagan god. His muscles were glistening, his tattoo swirling around his shoulder and arm. The colors shiny. Damn sexy. Whoa, stop right there. Sexy tattoos? She fanned herself with her hand. That was something she’d never have thought of saying in her life. The Florida heat was starting to affect her; she was delirious already.

At the nape of his neck was that “Hard to Kill” inscription, partly covered by his shaggy hair, and right over his left hipbone, spreading upward, were the oriental symbols he’d got for his army years. The ones that celebrated balance. Compared to the huge Yakuza-style tattoo, the others were reasonably small and not that noticeable. Or disagreeable. Hell, not even the dragon was disagreeable; as a matter of fact, they looked damn good on him. Powerful and virile. Temperamental. Rough. Dangerously sexy.

Man, she was toast.

As her gaze swept over him, a sweet longing spread through her body, raising her temperature to the sky and firing her desire. She squeezed her thighs together as she remembered his touch, his kisses, that huge hard-on persistently pressing against her ass while they’d played bingo, Tate perched on his lap, his breath tickling her ear. As if on command, her clit engorged, the metallic ring pressing against it, creating friction, making her shiver in anticipation.
Oh come on
! One peek at him and she was ready to go, her mind running wild with thoughts and images of the man. The wicked pirate princess, as he’d called her, was working herself into a state just by looking at him and thinking of how she couldn’t wait for the man to offer her his undivided attention. Having that dark blond-haired head buried between her thighs, his tongue feasting on her, was going to be a damn good memory to take back home. Certainly better than the stupid T-shirt Aidan had given her from their last trip together.

As if James could read her mind, he turned around and winked an eye at her. Oh hell, was she so obvious? Or maybe she’d been thinking aloud. A giggle bubbled up in her throat. She had to stop fantasizing before those images and the scorching sun of Florida transformed her into a human torch. Spontaneous combustion, how fitting.

Tate had never before felt such an out-of-control sexual attraction toward a man, much less toward one she’d just met. She didn’t consider herself a sanctimonious prude, but she wasn’t an easy lay either; she needed to know quite a bit more about a guy than his name before jumping on his lap and molesting him. Apparently not with James, which was weird because even if love at first sight wasn’t something she believed in or lived by, neither was sex at first sight. The latter, though, she could better understand, especially when looking at a man like that; he’d hardly touched her today, yet she could already feel her damp panties clinging to her folds. Her core was hot and needy. Embarrassing as it may be, her body was itching, her nerve endings oversensitized and tender, longing for his touch.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was time to calm down and regain some semblance of self-control, even if only on the surface. She couldn’t believe how fast and how daring she’d gotten with him; it was so unlike her.

Elle had insisted she take this minivacation, said she needed to unplug, forget about everything for a while and let go, have some fun. Well, it looked like she’d taken it quite literally. The second she’d made up her mind about having James, a huge, bolted door had flung open, granting her the right to go for what she wanted just for the sheer pleasure of it, because it felt good. And damn if it hadn’t felt good. That orgasm on his lap had taken her totally by surprise, hit her fast and strong. She didn’t come that easily, ever, much less when there was another human being involved in the process. With James, it had felt so safe to let go; nothing had mattered but her body and the way he was making her feel. No restrictions or inhibitions. It was so weird she felt that way around him; after all, he’d caught her at her most vulnerable, with all the unwelcome changes in her life, with sicko Prince Charming making her feel two inches tall and Rosita’s helping him along.

During these past months, she’d been so immersed in the restaurant she hadn’t had time for anything. Not even Aidan dumping her had made a real impression. Oh sure, she’d been devastated at the time, but she was too intensely involved with Rosita’s, too frantic, no time for boyfriends or for pondering the lack of them. She hadn’t even missed sex all that much—not the kind Aidan had to offer anyway—until she’d stopped her frenetic rhythm, went on vacation, and,
ka-boom
! she’d become a nympho. She’d heard that after a very intense period of stress, running basically on pure adrenaline, you slow down, let your defenses down, and automatically become ill. What did she do? She went and got horny. Go figure that one.

When it came time to eat, James didn’t worry about formalities. He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the table to sit beside him, where he could touch her. Between him, her hyperactive imagination, the heat, and Mr. Nicholson’s spicy barbecue sauce, Tate was out of breath most of the time. Fortunately this crowd wasn’t in any danger of running out of conversation anytime soon; they chattered nonstop, especially Mrs. Nicholson, who seemed to know everyone and everything that was going on in the place, so Tate just basically smiled and nodded through the meal. Then something caught her attention.

“How’s business?” she heard Mr. Nicholson asking James.

“Busy as always.”

Mrs. Nicholson, who’d been most amused the whole time James had been playing touchy-feely with Tate, caught her intrigued stare and smiled at her. “Hasn’t James told you he runs his own business?”

James gave her a chastised look. “Now, Mrs. Nicholson, don’t go breaking the enchantment. Tate thinks I’m an unemployed good-for-nothing bum/surfer/biker dude who charms girls out of their pants and drives them to perdition. I have to live up to that image. Don’t ruin my reputation.”