“Fuck me hard,” she demands of me, and I do.
“Come for me, baby,” I tell her in a yell as I pull myself fully out and ram back into her. Her pussy walls constrict my dick.
“Just like that, Luca.”
And I keep my tempo until I can’t any longer and come inside her. Her hungry pussy pulses around my shaft with her own climax.
Laying my body weight on top of her, unfurling my hand from her tangled wet hair, we both catch our breath.
“Get dressed.” I slap her ass while simultaneously pulling out of her. With a step back, I watch my cum slowly leak from her. I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face. It feels primal, marking my territory.
“Wait. What?” Rowan looks at me when we stop in front of a tattoo parlor.
My eyes pan to her hidden stomach. “Are you ready?” I don’t have to say what I’m referring to; by the look now on her face, she knows.
On a whisper, she says, “Yes.” She moves her head up and down.
The bell rings as we cross the threshold.
“Hey motherfucker!” echoes from across the room and I see Jax barreling our way.
Rowan stands still next to me as Jax and I shake hands, both coming in for a quick hug. He’s been my tattoo artist for years. He’s never asked me what the names on my skin represent, but I know he isn’t stupid. Jax has worked on all of us. He’s the only man we trust with our skin.
He looks at Rowan, his hand held out. “Jax, nice to meet you.”
“Rowan.” She shakes it while turning to me.
“After your call, I had to come in and open, you know it’s my day off, asshole,” Jax says jokingly. Money talks, and mine talks loudly.
“That’s because you’re a good man.”
He laughs because he’s not, but we won’t say otherwise.
“Come to my station, let's see what you want me to do.”
We follow him, and I know the moment she spots the picture. Her body immediately stills. I have to step sideways so I don’t run into her.
Jax notices, too. “That’s my best piece to date.”
In a huge black gothic frame, my back piece is in all its glory. Dark and mysterious. An artistic piece that’s won him awards at tattoo shows.
“I love it.” Rowan walks to the hanging picture. It’s as tall as her if it were sitting on the ground. The tree is hauntingly beautiful, with its roots intertwined, representing Lauren and me. “You did it.” It’s not a question, but a statement. “It's my favorite piece of him.” Rowan turns and smiles at Jax. I can see she’s becoming more comfortable, understanding that I trust him.
Placing the finishing touches on the table, making sure it’s all sanitized, “Who wants to go first?”
I see Rowan’s eyes widen before I walk to her. “I know I sprung this on you; you don’t have to get anything.”
“No. I want to.” Her hand absentmindedly moves down her stomach.
Placing a gentle kiss on her lips, “Whatever you want, he’ll do it.”
“Can you go first?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
“Jax, I already told you what I wanted on the phone, so I’ll go while Rowan decides on hers.” I remove my flannel, shrugging off my shoulder holster, followed by my T-shirt, standing shirtless, before laying on the bed, ready. One thing about me and tattoos is that they’re my therapy. The feel of the needles digging into my skin is a feeling I chase after, hence why I’m covered, but there is one spot that isn’t, that’s always been Rowan's, when even I didn’t know it.
She sits in the chair across from me, watching Jax pour the ink colors. “What are you getting?”
