Page 64 of Connor's Claim
My mouth dropped open, and surprise caught me. I’d never once wanted a tattoo, never considered it. The vibe didn’t go with my good office girl aesthetic at all.
But this month was all about firsts.
My first love. My only love. The start of my awakening from what I’d done to my life and what had been done to me.
Connor stared down at what I’d done and made a sound of pleasure. Pulling out of me, he stood and stripped my clothes from my ankles then reached to push away all the tattoo kit items from the raised counter down to the work surface below, the clatter loud in the otherwise quiet room. Ink spilled.
He lifted me so I landed face down on the cool countertop, then buried his face between my legs from behind. While I mindlessly worked my hips, chasing friction, his tongue slid over me, inside me, taking me to the edge of a quick orgasm, then replaced by the broad head of his dick.
He must’ve knelt on the stool behind me, I dimly realised, as the overhead brass lamp swung out, casting light and shadows over us. I turned my face away from the window, moaning again at the first deep thrust into me.
“I want this one around my dick. I plan to fuck ye on every surface in the place.”
Braced over me, he drove in and out in a series of hard thrusts. I saw stars. My mind stopped working. All I knew was need and him. Everything, him.
The climax raced through my body and wrecked me. I keened into the polished stone beneath me, my throbs extended by Connor quickly following me over the ledge. He stilled and held his dick in place deep inside me, coming in pulses that matched mine.
Bright satisfaction rolled over me.
“Never going to get over how good that feels.” He hauled in a deep breath and climbed off me, helping me down. “Putyour underwear back on but don’t clean up. I told ye I want ye wearing my cum all day.”
I flushed hot and tugged on half my clothes. We still had thirty minutes until we needed to go downstairs, so I didn’t bother even trying to put on my bra.
My gaze kept straying to the floor in front of the window, my brain summoning image after image of his frenzy there.
“What you did to me last night…”
Connor curled his arms around me from behind, possessive and his skin hot against mine. “Did ye like it?”
Confused at myself, I inclined my head. “But I liked it more this morning when I was conscious but unable to move. God, that sounds messed up.”
“Not at all, and I can use a different drug to recreate that. I fucking love it.”
“Why?” I twisted in his arms.
He released me. “It’s safer for me that way.”
“When I can’t touch you back?”
“Can’t touch me, tell me no, or hurt me.”
My heart sank. I’d bruised him so deeply that this was our reality. Sorrow chased away the bloom of happiness and pleasure he’d gifted me. I’d broken us. I’d done it because I loved him so much, but the crime still stood. “I want to explain.”
“Don’t. At least not yet.”
Confused, I waited for him to continue.
“Later tonight, I’m taking ye out somewhere. If ye feel the same once we’re done, try to explain yourself then.”
“Nothing will change my mind. What are you going to show me?”
Connor raised a tattooed shoulder and turned to his display of knives on the wall. He picked one up, a savage-looking double-edged blade, then tested the sharpness on his nail. “The real me, Ev. Beyond the room I showed ye and my life with mycrew. I’m not the boy ye once knew anymore. You’re in the hands of a monster.”
Chapter 22
Cassie
“Crazy motherfucker,” I sang along to the music, dancing in my car, my hand in my bag while I rummaged for a hidden packet.