Page 31 of Marked by the Mountain Man

“Owe you how?” he asks, licking his lips.

“The best head of my life.”

“Done,” he chuckles. “I’ve spoiled you rotten. Haven’t I? Now, you’re entitled, thinking you get this thick, long tongue daily.”

“And other things,” I purr. “It’s only going to get worse, so much worse, once I’m Mrs. Adair.”

“You’d change your last name for me?” he asks, his voice raw.

“Of course. Because I want to belong to you and be yours always.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

“And I love you,” I whisper.

Hudson wipes down the tattoo chair with disinfectant, encouraging me to sit on it, my feet hanging over the edge. He takes the rolling stool, holding himself steady as he talks me through it, and I manage to create a thin, delicate circle around the “Yes.” I admire my work as he gazes down on it.

Fumbling with his pocket, he pulls something out, handing it to me with a big grin.

“Oh my God, Hudson, it’s gorgeous.” I hold a diamond solitaire on a white gold band. It sparkles in the shop’s light, stunningly clear and large.

“Did I do okay?”

“Better than okay. It’s breathtaking.”

“No, you’re breathtaking,” he corrects, helping me slide it on my ring finger.

“I love it,” I whisper, more tears pouring down my cheeks. He wipes them away with his rough, work-hardened thumb. Suddenly, seizing my hips with a dark chuckle, thick and rich like molasses, he pulls me towards him on the tattoo chair, hiking up my skirt.

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

“Giving you the best head of your life,” he says

“In the tattoo parlor?”

“Yes, Hadleigh. Because I’m a man of my word, and when it comes to you, my stunning, breathtaking wife, I never hesitate,” he growls, burying his head in my silky panties with a ravenous chuckle.