“Take the rest off,” I growl against her mouth, one hand wrapped around her pretty throat.
I step back, licking my lips, tasting her as she grips the waistband of her slacks and pushes them down.
Sneaky little brat licks a trail from the tip of my exposed cock to my chest as she rises, and I groan and press my dick against her soft flesh before backing up so I can see her.
“Fuck, you’re even better than I imagined. Is that a fucking snake?”
“A Viper.” She bites her lip and nods.
“Turn. Let me see,” I growl, my voice guttural, like gravel scraping steel. I can’t stop the pounding in my chest, or the possessive hunger surging through me.
She turns slowly, a little smug twist on her lips. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
And fuck me, I was right.
Circling those perfect hips is a black Viper—thick, sinuous, and wickedly detailed.
The scales shimmer beneath the low light, glossy and textured, the kind of ink that took hours to lay down and a master to do it.
Not just a snake—no, this is a symbol.
A warning.
A legacy inked in blood and black.
The body of the beast wraps around her hips and waist like it belongs there, coiled in and out of roses so intricately inked I can almost smell the thorns.
There are vines too, twisting up her side like living things. A string of stars curves along her spine, and when I tilt my head, I realize it’s a constellation—Orion, the hunter.
But then my gaze drops lower.
And I nearly lose my goddamn mind.
Because right there, inked in brilliant contrast to all the black and gray—on the curve of her left ass cheek—is a glittering blue fairy.
Mischievous, playful, utterly fucking gorgeous.
A sparkle of whimsy amidst the danger.
I promise myself I’ll pay more attention to her later—memorize every line, every color, every hidden story—but right now I need to focus.
Because when I turn her back around to face me, my blood goes cold and hot all at once.
Because the Viper’s head?
This goddess had it tattooed just above her cunt.
Nestled right above the mound, the snake’s face stares back at me—mouth open, fangs bared, eyes deadly.
“You’re insane,” I whisper, stepping closer, brushing my fingers over it reverently.
She smiles slowly. “You like it?”
“Like it?” I rasp. “I’m fucking obsessed.”
The ink is fresh enough to have weight but healed enough to gleam against her skin.
“New?”
