Authors: Aubrianna Hunter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means without the prior
written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any
resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Table of Contents
He looked down at her, taking a moment to admire the view
before him. Long black hair fanned out around her head. The red satin blindfold
standing in stark contrast to her pale skin, only to be offset by the matching
red of her lips. Her mouth was slightly agape, waiting for his next kiss, his
Her hands and feet were bound with black fur cuffs, keeping
her trapped in the spread-eagle position, open to his view, ready to answer his
every desire. Or so he could answer hers. He ran a gentle caress up her side,
keeping his touch feather-light. He saw the goose bumps rise all across her
body, her nipples tightening once again into little pebbles, their color as red
and rosy as her lips.
She wasn't too skinny. Instead her lush body was curved in
all the right places, offering softness to his hard planes. Supple, giving, her
body drove him to madness. He looked lower, seeing the moisture pooling between
her thighs, a clear signal that she was more than ready to receive him. He
smiled, teasing her again with a little brush here, a touch there. He had kept
her on the brink of orgasm for hours, teasing her, bringing her right to the
edge, then stopping.
As he climbed up onto the bed, it shifted below her, causing
her to gasp and wiggle her hips in anticipation. But this was his show, he was
"Be patient, love. I'm not quite done with you
A little whimper escaped her lips, bringing another smile to
He leaned forward, placing a kiss on her belly, and another
a little lower, stopping to dip his tongue into her belly button. When she
moaned softly, he bit down gently on her stomach, reaching his hand up to
gently squeeze her breast. He moved further down, blowing on her mound, causing
her hips to lift off the bed, seeking his tongue.
Wanting to startle her, and feeling his own needs beginning
to get the better of him, he pulled his mouth back, roughly thrusting one finger
into her core. She cried out, trying to twist her hips, bring him deeper.
"Please," she begged.
"Please... let me come... I need to come."
"I know you do... and you will. Soon."
She groaned, twisting and writhing against the sheets. Watching
her, his shaft pulsed, releasing another drop from the already wet tip. He
wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer. He thrust his finger deeper,
again and again, feeling her wet heat contract around his hand.
Finally unable to withstand it anymore, he sat down onto his
knees, lifting her hips and lining his cock up with her dripping entrance. He
had wanted to spank her, to see her ass red from his hand. He'd wanted to taste
her again.... now it was too late. He had to take her, hard and fast.
He brushed the tip of his throbbing shaft against her wet
slit, sliding up and down, brushing past her clit as she twisted against him.
With one hard thrust he pushed inside her, burying himself to the hilt.
At the feel of her wet heat surrounding him he gritted his
teeth, struggling not to come immediately. He raised one hand, pinching her
nipple between his fingertips. She cried out, her sheath pulsing around him. As
he felt her body tightening, on the precipice of the release he'd thus far
denied her, he couldn't stop from thrusting into her. Again and again...
The need to fuck her until she screamed overtook him and he
gripped her hips, lifting them so he could drive into her with all his
strength. When he felt her start to milk his shaft, her head thrown back as a
scream tore from her throat, he couldn't stop his own release. He thrust once,
then twice more, his seed shooting from him in hot bursts as he threw his head
back and roared out his pleasure.
His eyes tore open, his hips still grinding against his
cotton pajama bottoms as hot jets streamed from his body, release bringing
enough pleasure to have him gritting his teeth.
As his breathing began to steady out he realized that his
dreams were getting more and more real, this time pushing him all the way over
the edge. Usually he just woke up hard as stone, but this time he had actually
come, simply from a dream.
He rubbed his hand across his face, shoving it through his
hair as he took another deep, steadying breath. He looked over at the sleeping
woman next to him. He saw her silky blonde hair, her soft pink lips with her
mouth open slightly in sleep. He wondered how she'd slept through all his
noise, then just decided to be grateful she had. He gently slipped out of bed and
tiptoed to the bathroom to clean up.
As he washed his face, he looked in the mirror silently
willing himself to forget those fantasies. They could never be a reality. That
just wasn't in the cards for him.
It was only as he turned to head back to bed that he
realized the woman in the dream had raven black hair, not blonde.
"Ah, fuck me," he mumbled under his breath before
sneaking back into bed beside his fiancée.
Joshua Taylor walked out of the coffee shop on the corner,
hot steaming cup of black coffee all but burning his hand. He felt the sting,
realized he should have gotten one of those silly sleeves, then shrugged it off
and kept walking. The little bite of pain helped him feel something, and right
now he needed the reminder that he was alive, a person with choices, like
burning his hands, and not merely some puppet on a string. Most days he
appreciated his life, realized how truly blessed he was. He had a good family,
a good job, financial freedom, a beautiful home and the love of an amazing
woman. Nobody could possibly ask for more than that.
Whenever he started to feel the walls closing in on him, he
would run down the list of things in his life he had to be grateful for.
Usually, that was enough to pull him out of his funk. If that didn't work, he
would pull out his dream car and take her for a spin. The rumble of the engine
and the feel of the tires hugging the road as he drove too fast down the
twisting highway were usually more than enough to shake off the blues. Today
not even his 1968 Shelby GT500 had helped. He was still feeling... itchy. Like
his skin was too tight.
So he walked, letting the coffee burn his hand and his
throat as he sipped it, trying to figure out what to do next. When he saw the
neon sign, he had his answer.
He walked up to the little tattoo parlor, Forever Ink,
stopping to look through the window a moment before heading in. She was there.
He could see her in the back corner, her black hair woven with pink stripes in
a long braid down her back. She wiped at some guy’s shoulder, turning her head
to pull more ink before facing back to her work. He knew that even if he walked
in there she wouldn't look up, not right away. She was too focused on what she
was doing. But he wanted to take another minute here, just to look his fill
before he headed inside. She turned again and he could see little wisps of hair
had escaped the braid to curl around her cheeks. She pursed her lips, blowing
out the side of her mouth trying to get that hair off her face. He smiled as he
finished his coffee, tossing it in the trash before he opened the door.
When she heard the bell she called out, "Be with you in
Just as he'd expected, she never even lifted her head. Josh
sat down in one of the overstuffed Victorian looking chairs in the front of the
shop. After a few more minutes she yelled again. "I'm just about done.
Take a look at the books up front and get an idea of what you want. Black or
color and what type of design."
Just being in here, in this place with her crazy artistic
vibe clearly stamped throughout, Josh felt some of that tightness, that itchy
feeling, beginning to ebb. This was just what the doctor ordered.
It was another ten minutes before he heard the gun stop. She
wiped the guy’s shoulder and stood up, bending her neck side to side,
stretching her back and shoulders, while the customer took a look in the
mirror. The 'guy' was actually not much more than a kid, eighteen or nineteen
at best, and clearly stoked with his first tattoo. He was bouncing around
flexing his muscles to display the new skull on his shoulder. Josh watched as
Gia covered the tat with plastic wrap, giving the kid instructions on how to
care for it and keep it clean while it healed.
As the kid bounced away, she finally turned to face him, her
ever present smile fading into a look of shock.
"Let me guess... you just finished snow skiing in hell
and wanted to come and brag about it?" Gia asked by way of a greeting.
"Nope. The last I checked hell hasn't frozen over. Hi
Gia, how are you today?"
"It must have. If hell hasn't frozen over there's no
way you would be standing in my shop. What are you doing here, Josh?"
"Okay, since the pleasantries are over, I want to get a
At Josh's statement Gia proceeded to laugh outright, her
black lipstick framing her stunningly white teeth while she chuckled. He
waited, having expected that response.
After a good long laugh she finally calmed enough to catch
her breath. At which point she asked, "No, really, why are you here?"
"Really... I want a tattoo."
She smirked at him, the corners of those full lips quirking
up at one corner just as the opposite eyebrow shot straight up in question. The
familiar urge to kiss her rose, and was just as quickly stamped back down.
She stared him down, her hazel eyes boring into his. He
stared back. He'd never been one to walk away from a challenge. Now that he'd
decided to do this, he was not about to let her talk him out of it. After a few
moments, her expression changed, no longer daring him, simply full of humor.
"Fine, pick a design, black only. I'll go get the
"Not henna, Gia. I want a tattoo, the permanent
She rolled her eyes at him, followed it with a sigh, then
finally said, "Fine. There's another shop about ten blocks down. Tell
Frank I said hi."
"No. I want you to do it."
"Okay, Josh, what the hell is this about? You have
never once come in here, ninety percent of the time we're around each other you
don't even speak to me anymore, the other ten percent we're bitching at each
other. I would bet my last dollar that you don't have any other tattoos and
suddenly you show up here all smiles telling me you want me to ink you. I don't
think so. So, what... are you setting me up? Trying to get Deb to kick me out
of the wedding? What's the game?"
"No game Gia. I want a tattoo, plain and simple. And, I
happen to know that you're the best. So, I want you to do it." Josh
crossed his arms, tilted his head to one side and waited. He wasn't lying or
trying to build up her ego. It was plain truth. He had seen some of her work,
both back in college and in the last few years that she had been in business
here. The few people he knew that had tattoos had been to her. Her work was
He watched as she thought this through, wishing he could get
inside her head, just once, to know what she was thinking. She was right about
him avoiding her. They could barely manage to be civil to each other, so he
simply stayed out of her way. His mother had forced good manners onto him his
entire life. Since he lost all manners when it came to Gia, he simply took the
chicken shit way out.