Page 59 of Playboy’s Purgatory

The bathing suit she’s wearing is totally acceptable and not at all lacy. I’m cursing the very existence of bathing suits and wishing everything was made with satin or lace.

She’s expecting me to be a professional. I’m trying to talk my cock off the ledge right now.

When she steps closer to me, I almost wipe my face to see if I’m drooling. Her sweet scent wraps around me and I have to close my eyes and take a steadying breath. When I open them again and meet her eyes while grabbing a pair of gloves, there’s something mischievous twinkling there.

It’s sexy as fuck.

She doesn’t say a word; she doesn’t need to. We both feel it. We’re just not going to talk about it.

Grabbing a sharpie, I start to roughly sketch out a few vines to connect the two sections. I rough out a few options for how deeply they wind into the side of her ribcage. When I lean back and look at it, I’m torn. My eyebrows pull together as I try to look at her body objectively.

It’s not fucking easy.

“You look like you’re doing math, but not bakery math,” Lara teases.

Her voice startles me and I jump slightly before chuckling under my breath.

“Looking at your body like you are any other client isn’t easy.” Her eyes widen and I’m quick to add, “I want to do this right. Sure, it’s my design, but when you put your art on a person, on a body, it comes alive in a unique way. This section is where your body becomes the art.” I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Then there’s how much I want you. It makes this much harder.”

Her breathing picks up and she almost takes a step back. It’s in the way her muscles tense and she shifts her weight. Then her shoulders square and she holds firm like she’s made a decision.

“Do whatever you need to do. I’m not worried about it.” Her words are brazen, but the look in her eyes isn’t.

It’s vulnerable.

She clears her throat. “I know what I signed up for, I’m not naïve. You’re the artist.”

My hands land on her hips before I stand up. I’m more than a few inches taller than her. Protectiveness roars inside me.

Lara is delicate but with a hidden strength which I desperately want to bolster.

I lean closer, our noses almost touching. Too close. But I can’t help myself.

“Are you sure you know what you’re saying, Cupcake?” I rumble the question, my need barely leashed.

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolls her eyes and waves her hands dismissively. “Big talk.”

The silence stretches between us while I smirk. Big fucking talk is right. I can back it up though. And the look in my eyes is telling her exactly that.

Fuck, it’s fun riling her up and I much prefer doing it this way.

As I sit back down and give her hips a squeeze before I let go, I offer, “I’ll do my thing and if you can be a good girl and sit really good for me then I’ll give you a reward.”

Lara arches a perfect eyebrow. “As if I haven’t already been a stellar tattoo getter?”

“Are you saying you agree?”

“Well,” there’s a tease in her voice and I have to force myself to focus on getting back to work, “I’m not the kind of woman to back down from a challenge and I do like rewards.”

Fuck my life.

My cock is begging to be set free. Sorry, buddy, you’re not going to be part of the party today. I have to go slow and whipping out my dick today would not be going slow.

Of course, she sits like a fucking rock star. I knew she would. If I thought it would go any differently, I wouldn’t have challenged her at all.

Reward her?

Yes, fucking please.