Warm ocean breeze. The slap of shoes against stone. Neon buzzing overhead like a dare.
A tattoo parlor that was tucked away. Small and local, with one flickering sign. No tourists, paparazzi, or common sense anywhere to be found.
I blinked at the sign, then looked at Callum. He looked back at me, eyes dark, a smile big enough to flash his dimple. That expression always meantthere is no stopping this.
Beside us, Ivy squinted at the sign and leaned closer. “Did we… plan this?” Her posh British accent had completely collapsed, replaced by the quiet, husky clip of her country roots. Essex all over the edges.
“Nope,” Marco said cheerfully.
“I love this for us.” Lucy bounced on her toes, wobbled, and careened into Kimi’s chest. Kimi caught her with a huff, then fought a grin.
Callum grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in for a swift kiss. My wedding ring caught the light. So did his.
I felt light. I felt dangerous. I felt like tomorrow could deal with itself.
The door buzzed when someone pushed it open, and we went in. No real plan. No time to overthink. Just a blur of boldness and buzzed bravado as we all stumbled inside like we were chasing a dare.
Next thing I knew, the coolness of leather pressed against the back of my legs.
A giggle caught in my throat from pure, giddy disbelief. Peace. Happiness.
The kind of honey-drenched afterglow serenity that made everything feel slowed down and sped up all at once—like my body was floating a half-second behind my thoughts. I couldn’t stop smiling. I couldn’t stop thinking about our wedding. How I’d never been loved like this. How I’d never belonged like this.
Somewhere in the blur of voices and movement, someone asked me what I wanted. I remember shrugging, flirtatiously smirking at Cal before leaning in and murmuring to the artist before I’d even finished the thought.
Hands guided me back, feeling gentle and familiar. The hum started, sounding like a mosquito in summer heat, until it lived inside my bones, reverberating through me until my blood heated and my teeth sank into my bottom lip.
That was when it hit me. How pain had once been something to brace against. Something to survive. Something donetome. And now—now it was something I chose. Something I gave myself to. Something precious when it came from the right hands, for the right reasons. Pain and pleasure folding into each other until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Until surrender felt like power.
I knew, dimly, that this chair wasn’t made for sin, but I felt filthy in it anyway.
My back arched, my thighs trembled. I gripped the arms of the chair like it was the only thing anchoring me, breath catching every time the needle dragged again, again, again—branding ink into my skin.
I should’ve minded the burn, the sting.
Instead, I almost came.
The pain didn’t scare me. Not when it meanthisname,hiswords, something sacred written into my skin forever. Not when the fire of it lit me up from the inside out, hotter than the Aegean sun, deeper than my bones.
And it wasn’t the needle that had me soaking through the liner on the bench.
It washim.
Cal—my beautiful, brilliant, broody husband—stood leaning against the wall of the narrow booth, arms folded, ankles crossed. A casual stance. But nothing about the way he looked at me was casual. It was searing. Still. Focused. Fuckingravenous.He was only feet away but might as well have been inside my skin. His head tilted like he was studying art—except it was me.
Me, drunk on marriage and sex and adrenaline, trembling from the vibration of the machine and the weight of his eyes. My dress was bunched around my hips. One strap had fallen off my shoulder. And I couldn’t tell what burned more: the sting of the needle or the memory of his voice.
You take pain so pretty, baby. Do it for me.
God, I couldhearit.
Low and private and mean with worship.
I squeezed my eyes shut, thighs trembling, lips parting on a moan I barely swallowed.
My whole body was buzzing. And it wasn’t just the needle.His dominance lived in me, had rewired me. I could feel it in the arousal between my thighs, the way my nipples peaked beneath my dress, the way my breath hitched when I remembered his belt across my ass and his mouth on my tears.
You’re mine. Say it.
