He held out his forearm. Veins, thick and prominent, bulged from his earlier aggression. Muscles pumped from carrying me around.
“I want your teeth in me, Kitty.” He motioned to a piece of skin that was free from ink. “Right here.”
“Hey! I’m Quin.”
I jumped in bewilderment, my head whipping around until I noticed a guy in the corner waving at me before continuing to set up his tattoo station.
“Hi, Quin,” I greeted, feeling the heat rise on my cheeks from how I must’ve looked.
Never mind that Stan was half-naked and I was three-quarters there!
“He knows not to look at you,duci,” Stan assured me.
“Yup. Eyes on him only,” Quin chirped. “Part of the gig.”
I licked my lips. “What are you doing, Stan?”
“I want your marks on me forever,bedda mia.”
“You’re insane.”
“Se.”
I huffed then folded my arms across my chest. “Which marks in particular?” He’d saidmarks.Plural.
Turning around, he stripped out of his shirt, revealing the two sets of five stripes where my nails had dug into his back.
“You can’t ink onto open wounds,” I chided, wincing at how raw they looked in parts.
“You pick the side that’s best.”
“Stan!”
“Yes,duci?”
I studied him. That glitter. Felt his possessiveness. But also felt my own stir to life.
My marks on him.
Forever.
“You’re going to do this anyway, aren’t you?”
“My Kitty has claws. I want reminders.”
Though I rolled my eyes, he was saying the right shit to make me dig this.
“Okay, but only if you reciprocate.”
That gleam made another reappearance. “Where?”
Knowing it’d rile him up, I taunted, “My inner thigh.”
It worked.
“Quin, could you leave us for a couple minutes, please?”
“Your dime,” the other guy cheered.
