Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) (14 page)

For real. Forever.

The question was, would he?

“I know this is new for both of us, but now that I’ve finally found you I don’t want to let you go,” I said. “
Ever.
I can’t live through losing you again.” My voice shook; the thought was too much. “So, I wanted to ask if you’d come with me.”

His gaze lifted to mine, his eyes widening slightly.

Shit. What did that mean?

“It’s only for two months,” I was now talking a mile a minute, “and I know if I don’t take this job I would be making a mistake, but at the same time being with you—”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Just like that? I couldn’t breathe—all my dreams were coming together at once. He seriously just said
yes
.

“I’ve still got my place in Paris,” he said. “We can stay there. Give this a real go. I was actually thinking we might go back. I miss my work. My real work. Tattooing isn’t enough.” Pinning me with that sexy, dark gaze, he added, “And spending the next two months without you isn’t an option. Not now when you’re finally, wholly mine.”

My jaw hung open. “You want to
live
with me?”

He laughed. “Sure. Or you can live across the hall again. But that prick Archer isn’t welcome anywhere near the apartment building.”

“Neither is Giselle.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Who?”

The fact that he’d forgotten the French beauty so soon made me glow.

Good freaking riddance.

“I’m committed to Jasmine and the shop for another month,” he said. “So you’ll have to go ahead without me, but I’ll be right behind you.” His mouth tightened, the muscles of his jaw rippling tensely. “I hate the idea of you being there all alone for two weeks.”

“I’m a big girl. I’ll be living my dream and waiting for the guy I love.” Then I realized what his strained expression meant. “And I’ll be staying away from the party scene.”

“What about the dark?”

“I can handle the dark.” The darkness was still there, waiting to consume me. But now I had more tools and support to fight it. “As long as you’re mine, I can handle anything.” My chest filled with warmth. So much warmth that I felt as if I’d stepped into an alternate reality where things actually worked out in my favor. “We can do this, Dare. I know we can.”

We’d survived three years. And lived through twenty-eight days. We could handle two weeks.

We would be happy. Finally.

He removed his gloves and gently nudged my shoulder. “Ready to see what your phoenix will look like?”

“Hell yeah,” I said as he helped me off the padded table and guided me to a full-length mirror in the corner.

He stood behind me, his fingers closed around mine, keeping my bunched up shirt in place while he turned me to the side. “What do you think?”

“Oh, god....” My heart caught in my throat. There was no single word to describe the outline of the magnificent creature that would soon be a permanent part of my body. She was even better than the image he had painted on me all those years ago.

“You won’t have the full picture until I start tattooing and put in all the shading and the golds and reds, but—”

“She’s perfect, Dare. MORE than perfect.” The phoenix stretched across my right side, her fiery wings licking my back, her tail curved slightly down my hip. She was feminine, majestic, regal. More powerful than anything I’d ever seen. “She’s not even inked on my skin yet, but she makes me feel so…
alive
.”

I pulled my shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor, moving my loose braid over my shoulder in the process. “I want to see what they look like together,” I said, tugging at the hem of his black tee. “Please.”

His eyes flitted to the thin, slightly see-through lace of my bra before he bowed his head and grabbed the material at the back of his neck, pulling the t-shirt off to expose his tattoo.

It was now my turn to stare. Even though my fingers and lips knew every inch of hard muscle and smooth, tanned skin, I could never get enough. Dare was all sharp edges and sculpted curves—so damn edible, and he somehow managed to look MORE delicious every time I saw him.

The sight of his tight pecs and carved abs caused heat to spread throughout me. My heart fluttered and my knees wobbled. Apparently I turned into a lust-filled maniac in his presence.

This is your brain on drugs?
Screw that.
This is your brain on Dare
.

Hello, dopamine overload. Goodbye, rational thought.

I refused to peek at the triangle of muscle protruding from the waist of his jeans, in fear I’d probably end up on my knees, tearing at his fly with my teeth. Instead, I made my way up his body—over the paintbrush tattoo on the inside of his forearm, and followed the snake winding around his bicep to the black phoenix on his shoulder.

Pressing my back into him, I rose up on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing our two birds as close as possible. The image in the mirror took my breath away.

Our two birds signified the same rebirth—each of us rebuilding our lives, reclaiming ourselves, becoming who we wanted to be, not who we’d been sentenced to be by our fathers.

Dare really was the light in my darkness. I’d always known it. And now everyone else would, too. Even my parents, if I ever saw them again.

“You like?” he asked.

“I love,” I said, my entire soul humming. And I laughed—it bubbled up in my chest, spilling over into the room—because looking at myself in the mirror right now I felt genuinely beautiful for the first time in my life. I felt like ME for the first time. Reagan—the cold, unhappy bitch who used to mock me, telling me I would never be good enough for anything—was gone. In her place was Ree.

Me.

“Thank you, Dare.”

His reflection arched an eyebrow at me. “For what?”

For saving my life
. “The tattoo,” I said.

He shook his head and pressed a devilish smile into my shoulder. “I haven’t even started inking yet. If you’re into premature appreciation, maybe you should first thank me for something else.” A sly grin crossed his face as he hooked his fingers into the back of my shorts. “Before I start tattooing, I need to see what you’ll look like the next time I paint you,” he said, slowly sliding them past my hips and over the curve of my butt. “I want you down to just your phoenix.”

An excited shudder ran up my spine as the cool air in the room hit my bare skin. The ache between my legs grew even stronger when he guided the shorts down to the floor. His palms trailed back up my legs, insatiable fingers gliding over my skin, sending my senses spinning.

“Wow, if I’d known I’d get this kind of treatment at a tattoo parlor, I would have done this a long time ago. Though you better not do this with all your clients.”

“Nah.” His chest vibrated with laughter. “I reserve my best work only for the ones I love,” he said. Then he ran one hand up the back of my leg and squeezed my ass. The humor in his eyes was overtaken by something darker and headier. “And those I care about marking as mine.”

The realization that he truly was about to permanently brand me with his art—and, in turn, HIMSELF—hit me hard. My body responded instantly, the tingling in my core spreading out into my whole system, making my heart race. I was so turned on my senses felt a hundred times stronger and more powerful. I could practically taste, feel, and hear the pleasure that he was promising in just that single look.

My nipples hardened behind the barely-there material covering them, once again drawing Dare’s attention to my breasts. He brushed his fingers across the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through me, then claimed one, squeezing lightly and pulling it toward his mouth so he could wrap his lips around the pink peak. The combination of his warm, wet tongue and the soft tickle of lace he licked me through just about undid me.

My legs gave out, and I lost my balance, but he caught me…by the waistband of my thong, making the fabric slide across my swollen clit. He positioned me so that I was standing directly in front of him, my body on display in the mirror for him. Still holding onto my panties, he unclasped my bra with one hand, freeing me from its constraints.

“So beautiful,” he whispered in my ear. Cupping my breast with one hand, he pulled back on my thong with the other, bringing me deeper into him, rubbing my clit again. Then he released the pressure. Pull, release, pull, release. With the fabric grazing my throbbing clit every time, my hips started to rock with his motions as I moaned. “Do you see how fucking beautiful you are, Ree?”

I blushed at the image in front of me—messy braid, wide eyes, parted pink lips, quivering legs. I looked like I was possessed. Possessed by happiness and Dare. And probably also on the verge of orgasm if he kept moving my thong like that.

He wrapped my braid around his fingers and gently tugged my head back, claiming my mouth as his lips and tongue scattered my thoughts. Between his ownership of my lips, the firm grip on my hair, and his possessive claim over my thong, I was his. Completely and entirely his.

“Just a little pre-tat relaxation technique,” he said, pulling away, but not entirely breaking contact.

“Earning my trust, Wilde?”

“Just one of the many things I plan to acquire by this session’s end.” His lips burned kisses into my jaw and neck, latching on my wild pulse as he released my braid and slid his hand down my stomach to my front. His fingers ventured under the lace to cup my heat, and a loud groan thundered through him as he slid one finger inside me. “Fuck, you feel incredible.”

Skilled fingers skimmed my clit, flicking and massaging while his other hand continued to tug on my thong. The erotic blend of his fingers and the taut material sweeping over my folds made my head spin in ways I didn’t think was humanly possible. Energy was building up in my core, the throb between my legs was growing and growing, taking me higher and higher.

I was about to come. And probably also die.

“Hands on the mirror.” I heard Dare’s whisper in my ear, his voice hoarse with arousal. “Don’t pass out on me, Ree. This is supposed to be the fun part.”

Using the glassy surface for support, I rocked my hips back into him, giving him complete access, urging him to delve deeper, harder, faster, moving to the rhythm he set. His gaze firmly locked onto mine as I grinded against the rock-hard bulge in his jeans until we were both moaning.

Little jolts of electricity flowed through my veins and the throbbing between my thighs had me begging for release. The tingling intensified and I was already calling out his name, the pressure inside me barreling full speed ahead toward a cosmic blast when—

He stopped.

Completely. Fucking. Stopped.

A small whimper of protest escaped my lips, but Dare quickly extinguished it with his kiss. Closing my eyes, I lost myself in the sensation of his tongue, then moaned as I felt him rip off my thong.

Still, his fingers never returned to
that
spot. The one place that really, REALLY needed him right now.

Instead, he released me and took a step back, nodding at the tattoo table. “Get on.” His breaths were controlled while mine were nothing more than quick, raspy pants. His eyes were so perilous yet alluring, and I had no idea what he was going to do.

All I could think was that he was planning something big. Like him—deep inside me.

Or maybe this was about something small, but terrifying. Like a needle.

God. The unknown was both scary and hot as hell.

I walked over the table, pausing at its side, running my hand over the clean sheet Dare had draped over it for me. “How do you want me?”

He inhaled sharply and cursed under his breath. “How many times did you ask me that exact question in Paris while I painted you? How many times did I have to grit my teeth and stop myself from describing in detail every position I wanted to take you in just because you weren’t mine?”

The sensual ache in my body returned at those words, pleading to be satiated. “Well, I am yours now.” I leaned against the edge of the table, offering myself up to him. “So…take me. Please,
please
take me.”

His eyes glided over my exposed body, pausing at the peaks of my nipples before dipping to the stencil on my skin, and traveling even farther south. “Lie on your back,” he said.

When I did, he wrapped his fingers around my wrists. Pulling them up above my head, he gently guided my hands to the sides of the table. “Hold on tight. Don’t let go,” he said, then moved back down, hovering over me as he paused at my lips. “And don’t you dare move.”

Oh, god.

He adjusted the table, and leaned over his equipment where the sterilized needle was ready and waiting in the machine. Every muscle in my body went rigid, and my heart attempted to leap out of my chest when he picked up his gloves.

Shit, shit, shit.

My gasp caught his attention. “Ree, look at me,” he said, claiming my chin between his fingers and pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m not going to hurt you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” I had to show him I was strong, that I was worthy of this beautiful phoenix’s power.

“Good.” He seized my lower lip between his teeth. “Because what I’m about to do breaks the rules of both tattooing
and
fucking.”

“First rehab, now tattoo parlor. You’re breaking all kinds of rules.”

“You only have yourself to thank for that,” he said.

I laughed, feeling the tension melt away as a different kind of thrill ran through me. “So…we’re starting with the outline?”

He nodded. “I’m going to do a quick test run first. Make sure you can handle it.”

I squeezed my thighs together, simultaneously turned on and scared. I expected Dare to start the machine, but instead he kissed his way from my lips, down my neck to my chest. He pulled one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at it, before moving to the other to do the same. He then kissed his way down my stomach until his lips were nibbling right above my core, and I was already rocking to the rhythm of my pulsing sweet spot.

When he parted my thighs and brought his mouth right back to where I needed him so badly, the urge to grab his hair trumped his orders to keep still. His tongue lapped at my folds, swirled around my clit, teasing, taunting. My hips bucked under the pressure of his mouth, and my fingers wrapped around his short, dark locks.