Page 32 of Wicked Design
“Too late. You already are.” She pecked his nose. “If gruesome is off the table, that’s fine with me. I don’t want people doing a one-eighty when I pass by them because I look like a freak. So I guess that means no spiders, scorpions, nails, or bullet holes.” She stroked his. “You have the arms for them. I don’t.”
Her flattery, attention, acceptance, and desire for him were everything he’d craved, yet it wasn’t enough. Having a woman want him sexually, or even as a friend, didn’t predict how long her interest would last. If he and Clover crashed and burned, or rather once they did, as most couples do, his life would be worse than before. That old adage about it being better to have loved and lost than never to have loved was pure crap.
Admitting as much to her wasn’t something he could do. He’d never be that bold.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” She cupped his face, her touch soothing and sexy. The whole nine yards.
Van Gogh played dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You looked bummed suddenly. Were you thinking of giving me bullet holes? If so, let’s go for it. I trust your judgment.”
Only a maniac or sadist would screw her up with hideous tats. “I haven’t decided on a final design. I’ve had only a few ideas.” He pulled up a site on her tablet. “Look at this.”
She traced the barely visible snowflake pattern on the woman’s ankle. “White ink tattoos?”
“Given your complexion they might be your best bet, especially with the right artist doing them.”
She gave him a sly smile. “Meaning you?”
Absolutely. He’d die if he fucked her up in the least and would deck any other artist who dared do so. “Some in my business overdo the white ink because it’s not obvious like black or other colors. They keep adding more. That causes the skin to scar. This needs a light, expert hand. Even with that, I have to warn you, these tats aren’t perfect. No design is. In time, they all sag with your skin and fade. In some instances, white ones turn yellow, but that’s if they’re constantly exposed to sunlight. You’re not at risk for that, since you’re obviously not into tanning. Because you’re so careful with your skin, the design could possibly fade in a few weeks.”
She chewed her lip. “That soon?”
He hated disappointing her. “It might last months or even years. Everyone’s different. But even with all I’ve said, it will be dramatic.”
“I don’t see how unless I stick my inked body part in people’s faces. If you put your design on my boobs or anywhere near my pussy, things could get dicey fast.”
“Agreed, and you don’t have to be so bold. Look.” He scrolled the screen to the next photos. They showed the same tat beneath a black light that turned the skin blue and made the design glow whiter than Miley Cyrus’s teeth. “If the bands you know have these effects at their concerts, your tat will show up beautifully. In ordinary light no one will notice the ink.”
“Amazing. I love it.” She hugged him. “Show me your ideas for the design.”
He brought up the geometric figures. “These seem like you but they’re not unique enough. I want to play with them. You’re not in a super hurry for this, are you?”
“Not at all. Take whatever time you need.”
He’d planned to. Dragging this out would allow him to keep seeing her. “About the parlor…do you want to maybe play there tomorrow night? Indulge in our fantasies and create new ones?”
“With cuffs, a strap or paddle, and something to use as a gag?”
His cock thickened faster than when he’d been daydreaming about this these past months. “Bring whatever you want. I’ll get the cuffs.”
“And the K-Y.” She pointed at the tube sticking out of his jeans pocket.
No way could he pretend the lube wasn’t there. “Can’t get anything past you.”
“You’ve just noticed that, huh?” She suckled his neck and spoke around his fevered flesh. “Tomorrow, I want to see the sketch you started to do on me. Are there others?”
Busted, he nodded.
“Wow. I want to see them, too.”
