Authors: Eve Berlin
“Exactly. The trial by fire.”
He smiled to himself. They were on the same page about a number of things, apparently. He didn’t know why that should matter, except that he was finding her to be excellent company, in addition to being an excellent sexual partner.
Great company, amazing sex. Things could be worse.
If only he didn’t have to end it.
No.
What was he thinking? Of course it would have to end. They both knew it. They were both the kind of people who went in fully aware of that. Who didn’t want more. Wasn’t that one of the things they were on the same page about? He wasn’t going to turn her into another Ginny. There wasn’t going to be another relationship with a woman who deserved more than he could give, and who got too much no woman should have to put up with.
No, there was not going to be another Ginny. He was not going to make another mistake someone else ended up paying for. His mum, Ginny…that had been enough.
“Connor, try not to tense up, if you can. It makes it harder for me to get into the skin.”
“Ah, sorry.”
He forced his shoulders to loosen. Forced his mind away from the old hurt and guilt spinning through his head. And soon the needle was hitting directly on his spine, sending pain lancing through him.
“Oh yeah, there it is,” he said, his jaw clenching a bit.
“Hurting?” she asked, pausing in her work.
“Yeah. But keep going. I can handle it.”
“I don’t want you passing out on me or anything.”
“Ha. As if. And you’re going to pay for that remark later, sweetheart.”
“I hope so,” she said, a sensual tease in her voice.
And damn if his cock didn’t go hard, hearing that tone.
“Mischa,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“Hmm, what?” She had gone back to tattooing him, the needle burning into his skin.
“I’m going to give you a right spanking later. And then I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”
The needle stopped.
“If you keep talking like that I’m never going to get this tattoo done. I’ll still be trying to finish it a month from now.”
That didn’t sound like a bad idea to him, for reasons he was not going to think about.
“I’ll behave. I promise,” he said, then muttered, “only ’til you’re done. Then all bets are off.”
“I’ll count on it. Now shush and let me work.”
He chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. He was damn delighted with her.
“So, tell me what the dragon means for you,” she asked a few minutes later. “I know it’s a classic Celtic symbol, but a lot of people put their own spin on things. Symbols are different for each person.”
“It’s a symbol of power, which is the most obvious meaning, in that I’m a dominant. But they’re also guardians.”
“What do you need guarding from, Connor?” she asked.
It was a simple question, asked innocently enough. But his gut twisted.
“Myself, maybe.” He paused, trying to figure out how much he wanted to say. Mischa remained quiet while she continued to work on the tattoo, giving him time to think. “If you go back to the Greek origins of the word ‘dragon’ it can also mean ‘I see clearly,’ something I try to do. Something I
need
to do. I spent the early years of my life clouded. I screwed up a few things royally because I couldn’t see past my anger.”
“But you got to a point where you decided to change all that.”
“I got to a point where I
had
to, or my life wasn’t going to change. It needed to.”
Mischa was trying to take in what he was saying, letting it mill around in her mind as she worked. He was a complex man. It sounded as if he’d been through a lot. More than he was saying.
“I’m glad this has a symbolic meaning for you,” she told him. “I don’t like to do meaningless tattoos on people who think something simply looks cool. I think symbols are important.” She paused, thinking about symbols in terms of doing this tattoo for him. “It seems symbolic to me somehow that you’re enduring the pain—really feeling it, I can tell. Yet you’re no less a dom because you’re willingly sitting here, because you’ve volunteered for the pain.”
“There’s strength in enduring pain, whether dom or sub or neither. But I see what you’re getting at. Are you also feeling some sense of role reversal because you’re the one delivering the pain?”
“Maybe.” She was quiet for several moments. “Except that I’m still doing this at your direction. Just as if you were directing me at any task.”
It was his turn to be quiet, thoughtful. There was no sound in the room but the buzz of the needle on his skin. “Do you want me to give you tasks?” he asked, finally.
“Like cleaning the floor with a toothbrush, or reporting everything I eat? Like some slave girl? No—that’s not me at all. Despite where you’ve taken me when we’re in role…no. I’ll never reach that level.” She sat back, looking at her work, wiping the excess ink with a paper towel. The tattoo was going to be beautiful, one of her best pieces, probably. On the most spectacularly muscled back she’d seen in her life. Even now, as focused as
she was on creating art on his skin, she couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of him. It made her sex ache, her mouth practically water. “But if you want to tell me how to suck your cock exactly the way you like it, then we’re on.”
He sat up straighter, stretched his arms, the muscles rippling. “Are you done for the moment?”
“We can take a break,” she answered.
He turned around to face her, his eyes sparking with equal amounts of lust and good humor. He said, “You do seem to enjoy it when I direct you, Mischa. When I take command.”
Her body was heating up, going warm and liquid. But she wanted to finish the conversation. “Only when we’re in those roles. The total submission thing will never work for me.”
“Except that it does.” He reached out, laid his hand on the back of her neck, squeezed just a little. He said quietly, “I’ve seen you go down, Mischa. Deep into subspace.”
She swallowed. “Only in response to the pain…the sensation.”
“Isn’t it all the same thing? No matter what gets you there. It’s more than the endorphins, the chemical response to stimuli. You start going down when I clasp your neck, as I’m doing now. I see you fighting it, but if I don’t stop soon you’ll go down, anyway.”
Was he right? She didn’t want him to be. But she was already feeling that buzz in her body, in her head.
She let out a sigh on a long breath. “Connor…”
He pulled his hand back. “We can argue about it later, if you like.”
She wanted to be annoyed with him, but he was grinning at her. Pleased with himself, she could see. Charming as hell. And half naked, which was enough to make any woman swoon. Which she was not going to do, despite the incredible breadth of his
shoulders, the hard planes of his chest, his dark nipples as enticing as his defined six-pack abs.
She bit her lip.
Pull yourself together.
Ridiculous that she couldn’t decide between being a little mad and being stupendously—stupidly—turned on. Either way, they had work to do.
“Am I going to finish this tattoo or are you going to keep taunting me?” she asked, trying to regain some command of the situation. Of herself.
“Both, probably.”
She laughed. “Probably. See if you can behave yourself for another hour or two.”
“I’ll do my best, but no promises,” he said, turning his back to her once more.
Oh, his back was a symphony of muscle. Almost as beautiful as the front of his big body…
She pulled in a deep breath, dipped her needle in the ink, and forced herself to concentrate.
It was nearly two in the morning when they stopped and she gently cleaned his skin and rubbed on some ointment. The tattoo was less than halfway done.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’m working in sections so we don’t have to wait weeks for you to heal before I can finish. If we start earlier next time I may be able to get it done in one more session.”
“Either way. Except that I know you have to get back to San Francisco.”
She paused in cleaning up her workstation. Why did he have to remind her of that? And why did her heart sink a little thinking of leaving Seattle?
Leaving him.
Stop it
.
“It’ll be all right if I sleep on my back, won’t it?” he asked, rolling his shoulders to stretch them out.
“Sure. Just be prepared to leave some ink on the sheets.”
He reached for her, pulling her close. “Tell Dylan I’ll replace her sheets.”
Her heart was hammering, her body going soft and hot all over. “You’re planning on staying?”
“Am I invited to stay?”
“I thought you were the one to make all the decisions,” she said a little breathlessly. His mouth was only inches from hers.
Just kiss me…
“It’s always consensual, darlin’. You know that by now.”
She nodded. Her legs were shaky, her breasts full, her nipples stinging with need. Her lips ached for his as he moved close enough that she could feel his warm breath.
“Does that mean yes?” he murmured against her mouth.
All she could do was nod once more.
He kissed her, then. A firm press of his lips, then his tongue sliding in.
She sighed, let herself melt into him as he deepened the kiss. He was taking command with his mouth. And she was giving herself over to it.
He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight enough to nearly bruise her, her breasts crushed to his wide chest. His hands went to her ass, and he pinched her skin hard, over and over, still kissing her. His mouth was demanding. Hungry. His punishing hands telling her that he was, once more, completely in command.
Her sex was going wetter and wetter as the pain built. His silky tongue was driving her crazy. Her clit was pounding with
need, a pulse-beat of raging desire. She squeezed her thighs together, but she knew nothing would do but his touch.
Touch me…
As if reading her mind—not for the first time—he used his thigh to part hers, pulled her in hard with his hands so that her aching cleft was tight against his muscular thigh. She arched her hips, rubbing against him. It wasn’t enough. She knew he meant for it not to be.
She groaned into his mouth. He pulled back.
“Turnabout is fair play,” he said, a teasing note in his low tone. But it was just as full of need. “Don’t you think, darlin’?”
“Yes…”
She was ready. For whatever he wanted of her, frankly. He’d been right earlier. It didn’t take much for him to send her hurtling into subspace. Her mind was emptying already. All she knew was how much she wanted him. How willing she was to endure almost anything he asked of her. Not only willing, but eager.
He stripped her down without another word, yanking her yoga pants down, her underwear. He helped her to step out of her slippers before he tore her shirt over her head, then he turned her around. She felt gloriously naked, her breasts heavy.
“Nice that you weren’t wearing a bra. Beautiful. Now bend over and brace your hands on the seat of the stool. Yes, just like that.”
She did as he asked. She couldn’t do anything else.
“Ah, but your ass is superb,” he said as he began to stroke the flesh there, long, feathering caresses that tickled and excited her at the same time. “Have I told you how perfect it is? Two handfuls…”
He cupped her ass cheeks in his hands, lightly at first, then harder, digging his fingers in, making her gasp with pain and
desire. “Spread for me, Mischa. Very good.” He slipped one hand between her thighs, swiping at her soaking cleft, spreading the moisture back, between the cheeks of her ass. “Take a breath, darlin’,” he said.
She did, and before she had time to think about it, he slipped the tip of his finger into her ass, wet with her juices.
“Oh…” Pleasure shimmered over her skin, through her body.
“Breathe, Mischa. I want you to relax.”
She nodded, took a deep breath. He pressed his finger in deeper. There was a slight burn as he pushed past the ring of tight muscle, then nothing but pleasure as he inched his way in.
“Christ, but you’re tight. Your ass feels like velvet inside. Can you take more?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes.”
He moved in deeper, slid his finger out a bit, then pressed in again.
“You take it like a champ,” he said, pleasure in his tone as he moved his finger in and out of her. “Watching the way you move your body when I fuck your ass with my hand. Moving like a mermaid in the water…You make me so damn hard.”
He pumped in and out of her ass, and she breathed into it, letting her body open to him.
“But it would be even better to have my cock there. To sink deep inside you.”
“Oh yes…”
“Do you have any lube?”
“I do. It’s…oh…,” she moaned as he slipped his finger from her body. “It’s in the bedroom.”
“I’ll get it.”
“It’s in the silver train case next to the bed.”
He leaned over her, kissed her between her shoulder blades,
making her shiver. He whispered, “I don’t want you to move. Do you understand? I want you to hold absolutely still and wait for me.”
“I will.”
She felt a loss of heat as he moved away from her, but she didn’t so much as turn her head. She closed her eyes, waited, her body loose, her mind blank of everything but her need for him, her need to please him.
He was back quickly. She heard the tearing of a foil packet and shuddered with anticipation. Then his finger was back, rubbing the lube on that tight opening, pushing a little inside.
“Are you ready for me?”
“Always,” she said, understanding that it was true.
He moved in behind her, and she realized he was naked as he pressed close to her. His thighs were strong on either side of hers. One arm went around her waist, holding her tightly in the way he often did, making her feel the power of his big body. Making her feel taken over, but in some lovely way. With his other hand he parted the cheeks of her ass, and she felt the tip of his sheathed cock pressing there, then slipping inside.
“Breathe,” he told her as he had before.
She took in a deep breath, concentrated on relaxing her body. His big cock surged past the tightest muscles, and she exhaled.