“Not god, just yours,” he rasps into my throat, finding my clit with his thumb and rubbing in firm circles.
The sex isn’t fast or rough. I don’t come eight times in a row and see stars, but somehow, wrapped together in the water while his dick is buried deep inside of me feels more intense than anything else we’ve done together. When I come, all I want is to be closer to him, to never be forced to ever let him go, and it’s…perfect.
After breakfast and a bath, Knight solemnly leads me through the garage and into the car. I love my job, but I’ve never been more tempted to say fuck it and take my husband back to bed. Instead, I let him do his thing, carefully securing my seat belt into place before he climbs into the driver’s seat and drives us to work.
Unlike yesterday, the shutter is open, and the lights are all on when Knight parks his car outside the store. When we step through the glass door, a girl with bright red hair greets us, her lips stained almost as brightly as her hair.
“Welcome to Mountain Ink. Do you have an appointment?”
“That’s Octy,” Betty calls, walking toward me from the back of the studio.
“Oh shit, my bad,” the girl says, jumping out of her seat and striding toward me.
Unlike me, at my diminutive height of a little over five feet one, this girl is tall—easily seven or eight inches taller than me. Her right arm is covered in tattoos, she has half a dozen earrings in each ear, and she’s dressed like it’s dress down day at a BDSM club.
I instantly know we’re going to be friends.
“I’m Leo,” she says, holding her hand out to me.
Reaching out, I curl my hand around hers and shake. “I’m Octy, and this is my husband, Knight,” I tell her, motioning to the man who is looming stoically behind me.
Her eyes run over me, then over Knight, but she doesn’t look like she’s leering. She’s just looking, and I get that. Hell, I probably did the same to her.
She’s wearing skin-tight latex leggings and a band shirt that’s had the sleeves cut out, then the bottom hacked off, so it hangs just below her breasts, which are wrapped in a black latex boob tube. On her feet, she’s wearing sky-high stilettos with a heelsharp enough that I bet they could cause damage if she decided to use them as a weapon.
“Nice to meet you both,” she says, smiling widely.
“You’re front of house?” I ask, my brow furrowed. “I thought Etta was…” I trail off because I’m not sure what Etta’s situation is now.
“I’m splitting my time between front of house and body mods,” Leo says.
“Oh, cool.”
“Etta’s working from home while Oz is off shift, then coming into the studio while he’s on base,” Betty says from her chair on the stage.
“I hijacked the book yesterday. I forgot to text you,” I tell Betty, holding the date book up sheepishly. “I put my rates in the front beside yours, Suede’s, and Cyrus’s too.”
“Knight texted me last night,” Betty says, waving my concern away.
“He did?” I ask, spinning to look at him.
“You were tired,” he says coolly.
“Knight is as crazy as the rest of the men in this town, so he’s going to be acting as our security so he has an excuse to stalk Octy all day,” Betty announces to no one in particular, rubbing her pregnant belly with one hand while she fills tiny ink pots with a rainbow of colored ink with the other.
“Oh, cool. Because more testosterone is exactly what this studio needs,” Leo says beneath her breath as she stomps back to her seat behind the front desk.
Placing the date book on the front desk, I climb the stairs, hyperaware of Knight following behind me. Yesterday, when the studio was empty, the idea of having Knight here felt normal, but now that there are other people here, my husband seems to take up so much more space than I was expecting, and I have literallyno clue where he’s going to sit or what he’s going to do while I work.
“Hey, Cyrus, get out here,” Leo shouts, startling me.
“What?” Cyrus snaps angrily, emerging from one of the private rooms behind the stage.
Prowling forward, like each step he takes offends him, Cyrus climbs the steps, his lip curling with annoyance when he sees me and Knight.
“Hey, I’m Octy,” I say cautiously, not wanting to get too close to the aura of anger that’s emanating off him.
“You’re the one who should have been here two months ago?” he snarls.
