CARNALDESIRE
ADARKMAFIASTANDALONEROMANCE
Therearemany,manythingsthatIloveaboutlivinginLosAngeles Thetrafficisnotoneofthem
And, gaugingfromhow manyhorns Ihear honkingand the colorful arrayofcursingthat Icanhear out ofmycar window,I’mnotaloneinthis
Iclosemyeyes,breathingintheheatedsummerairandreachingforthedialoftheradio.Thespeakerscracklealittle the soundsysteminmy1970Chevelle is one ofthe things thatIdesperatelyneedtogetrepaired butthe faintlyretrosoundof Cannons filters throughthe car, makingmyshoulders relaxaninchor so downwards I tryto ignore the fact that sweat is beadingonthebackofmyneck,makingtheloosehairsofmyponytailsticktomyskin.NighttimeinCaliforniacoolsoffeven inthesummer,butsittinginbumper-to-bumpertrafficisenoughtomakethingsfeelstuffynomatterwhat
TheclockonmydashtellsmethatI’malreadyfiveminuteslateformyappointment,andI’monlyhalfwayacrosstown.
Anotherdeepbreath Theairsmellsofthecity whichisn’tagoodthing butItrytopickoutthebetterpartsofit The hints ofsaltfromthe distantbeach, the sandywarmthofthe desertair fromthe south, the leafyscentofpalms. I’mgood at imaginingthingsasbetterthantheyare it’showIgetthroughlife,generallyspeaking.Evenwheneverythingseemstobeatits worst,I’vemanagedtomuddlethrough
Thelastsixmonthshavebeenharderthanusual,though.Andtonightfeelsliketherottencherryontop.
Normally,Iwouldn’tbehaulingmyassfromEastLAovertothewestside Normally, I’dbedrivingacoupleofmilesto NightOrchidTattoo,whereI’veworkedforyearssinceIwasanapprentice. Normally,I’dbesettlinginbynow,mystationset upforthefirstofthefewclientsonmyscheduleforthenight,withalittleroomleftforwalk-ins.
Instead,I’mstucknavigatingFridaynighttrafficsoIcantattoosomerichassholewhocan’tbebotheredtoreschedulejust becausehisartist myboss isoutsick.
I’veonlyevertattooedoutoftheshop friendswantingmetoetchasmileyfaceontheiranklewhilewe’redrunkathome don’tcount butthere are plentyofwealthycelebrities and athletes who are willingto payto have someone come to them. Thosesorts wouldnever beseenwalkingaroundtheneighborhoodIworkin they’retoogoodfor that,butnottoogoodto haveRicoAxtontattoothem.AslongasI’veworkedattheNightOrchid,he’sbeentheonewhotakesallofthoseupper-crust clients.ItmeanshemakesahellofalotmoremoneythanIortheotherartistattheshopdo,butI’veneverminded.I’drather beinmyfamiliarbooth,withmyartonthewallsandthesoundofthemusicBrendanandIpickedforthenightfilteringthrough the shop, the smell ofthe Thai place behind us makingits wayineverytime someone opens the door until one ofus finally cavesandordersittosplitfordinner
Besides,Ricoistheboss,andIknowIwasluckytogetaspotashisapprentice.
Somethinghenever,everletsmeforget Especiallywhenitcomestimetocallinafavor,liketonight
Myphonevibrates,slidingacrossthecrackedleatherofthepassenger’sseat,andIsnatchitupandputitonspeaker.I’m sureIknowwhoitisbeforeIevenhearRico’sgravellyvoice,andhedoesn’tbothertowaitformetosayhello.
“You’retenminuteslate,Emma,”hegrowls Icanhearthethickphlegminessinhisthroatfromtheshittyfluhecamedown with.“Ijustgotacallaskingwhereyouwere.Whatthehell?Thisisanimportantclient.”
So were the ones I had to reschedule tonight, as far as I’m concerned IbitebackwhatIwanttosay,grittingmyteeth I’m beyondpissedthatIhadtoshufflearoundmyscheduleandputmyclientsoff allofwhomhavepaidadepositandarejustas important as this dickhead I’mdrivingtowards and evenmore aggravated that Rico hasn’t so muchas said ‘thankyou’I won’tgetpaidforthisappointmenttonight,nothingotherthanmaybethetip,ifoneisoffered.TheentirefeewillgotoRico.I can’treallyaffordtodothis,butIcan’taffordtolosemyjob,either.
“Thetrafficishell,Rico,”Ibiteout,inchingforwardasthelightturnsgreenagain “Surelyyourclientunderstandsthat” “Gettingthereontimeisyourresponsibility.”Hedoesn’tsoundasifhe’sgoingtogivemeevenaninch.“Don’tyouknow howtouseGoogleMaps?”
“IleftwhenitsaidIshould.Idon’tusuallydriveacrossthecity,youknowthat.”IneverhaveareasontogotoWestLA. I’d rather not, all things considered The best parts of the city the interesting food, the vibrancy of the people, the less crowded beaches all of that can be found in South and East LA. The west side, as far as I’mconcerned, is nothing but
celebritiesandHollywoodtypeswithtoomuchmoney,touristtrapsthatcosttoomuch,andeverythingchokedwiththekindof peopleI’dratheravoid.
“You’regonnahavetogetusedtocrawlingoutofyourholenowandthenifyouwannamakethebigbucks,Emma”Rico givesanotherhoarselaugh,coughingwetly.Iwrinklemynose.
“Ilikemyspotintheshop,”Itellhimdefensively “Anditmakesmeenough” He andIbothknow thatisn’ttrue.I’ve beena workingtattooartistfor four years now a goodone,too,withplentyof recommendationsfromclientsI’veworkedon butLAisanexpensivecity Thoseexpenseshaveonlygottenworseinthelastfewmonths.
“Don’tfuckthisup,Emma,”Ricowarns.“I’ll lethimknow you’reonyourway.Butyou’redealingwiththis.Youbetter makesureheknowsjusthowapologeticyouareforthetardiness,understand?”
IclenchmyteethsohardIcanalmostfeelmyjawpop.The last thingIwanttodoisbowandscrapeinfrontofwhoever this guyis,tryingtogethimto‘forgive’mefor runninglate As ifI’mintentionallykeepinghimwaiting as ifI’drather be sittingintrafficthangettingmyfuckingjobdonesoIcangohometoabowloficecreamandanEpsomsaltbathformyhands. ButtellingRicothatisn’tgoingtogetmeanywhere
“Fine.”I’msurehecanhearhowaggravatedIam,butthatIcan’thelp.“I’llmakesurehe’sawarethatI’msorryI’mlate.” “Icertainlyhopeso.”Ricocoughsagain,hackinglongenoughthatIconsidersimplyhangingupandlettinghimthinkIlost hiscall “Youdogoodwork,Emma He’llbepleased,aslongasyoucankeepthatattitudeofyoursincheck” “Sure thing, boss.” Ido hangup then, before he cansayanythingelse. Iknow the complimentwas genuine, butI’ve had enoughofRicoforonenight Anythingkindheeversaysisalwayssandwichedbetweentwolayersofshit Ifhewasn’toneofthemostwell-knownandwell-respectedartistsinthecity,I’dhavelefttheNightOrchidyearsago. Thetrafficstartstopickupalittle,andIletoutasighofrelief.Abreezedriftsinthroughthewindow,bringingwithita whiffofsomeexpensive-smellingfoodthatmakesmystomachrumble.Thesidewalksarecloggedwithpeopleheadingoutfor aFridaynight’sentertainment,andIglanceatthemasIdrive.I’mentirelyoutofplacehere.ALamborghinipullsaroundme, turningintoaparkinggarage,andIseethemaninthedriver’sseatwrinklehisnoseatmyChevelle Theprettyblondenextto himlaughs,whisperingsomething.
Iflipthembothoff,justintimetoseetheblonde’seyeswiden
IcheckmydirectionsasIgetclosetomydestination,seeingaclosed-offparkinggarageunderneathahigh-rise.It’snotthe typejustanyonecanpullintoeither asIgetcloser,Iseeoneentranceflankedbyblack-garbedsecurityguardswholooklike they’repackingseriousheat.Mystomachtwistsalittle heavysecurityistobeexpected,especiallyifthisguyisacelebrity, butitstillmakesmeuncomfortable.Idon’tliketheideaofhangingoutinsomeone’spenthousesurroundedbyasmallprivate army
Unfortunately,I’mnotgettingmuchofachoice.
Iturnintothegarage,stoppingasoneofthesecurityguardswalksuptomywindow “What’reyoudoinghere,littlelady?” He peers at me, his gaze sweeping over first my attire, then my car. His expression says that he thinks I’meither lost, or somewhereIhavenorighttobe.
“EmmaGarcia I’mhereonRicoAxton’sbehalf He’soutsick,soI’mtattooinghisclient I’mfifteenminuteslate,”Iadd, asapologeticallyasIcanmanage.“Iwasexpectedatseven.”
“Hangon Letmecall upandverify” The guardtakes astepback,reachingfor the walkie athis hip “Hey Ladybythe nameofGarcia mhmm,saysshe’shereforsomeonecalledRicoAxton.Tattooartist yeah.Sendherin?Alright.”
Theguardglancesbackatme,clippingthewalkiebackontohisbelt “Goon,”hesaysroughly “Parktowardsthefront Doortotheelevatorupisonyourright.Don’tgonearanyoftheboss’scars.”Hehandsmeaslimplastickey.“This’ll take youuptothepenthousefloor.Boss’llbewaitingupthere.”
Itakethecard,pullingforwardintothegarage AsIgetoutandcollectmyequipmentoutofthetrunk,Ican’thelpbuttakea lookaround andwhistlelowundermybreathasIgetalookatthecollectionofcarsandmotorcyclesondisplay.
Ilovecars It’snotthemostfeminineofinterests,butIgrew upanonlychildwithafatherwhocametoLAtobeastunt driver. Igrew up handingmyfather wrenches and goingto the dinner table withsmears ofgrease under mynails, and I’ve nevershakenthat especiallynow Solookingaroundthegarageandseeinganarrayofcarsthatwouldmakeanycollector’s palmsitchisenoughtobothsendawaveofachingnostalgiathroughme andmakemepossiblydislikethisguyalittleless. Attheveryleast,hehasgoodtaste.
Theurgetowalkthroughthegarageandtakealookatthemallisstrong Rightoffthebat,Iseea‘69MustangBoss,a‘62 Ferrari, a ‘54 Mercedes Gullwing, and evena classic Mini Cooper. There’s a row ofmotorcycles, too, whichIknow less about,butIcatchsightofaTriumphThruxtonandanIndianScout,andit’sallIcandonottogoandtakeacloserlook ButI canfeel thewatchful gazeofthesecurityonme,soIhangaleftandheadtowardsthefrostedglassthatleadstotheelevator instead,mybagslungoveroneshoulder.
Istepinside,andI’malmostimmediatelyconfrontedwithtwomoreguardsflankingtheelevator,bothofthemlookingat me suspiciouslyas soonas theysee me. I hold up the slimcard, wavingit like a flagas I stop inmytracks. “I’ve got
clearancetogoup,”Itellthem,soundinglikeanidiottomyownears,butit’senough.Theynod,movingasidealittlesoIcan hitthebuttonfortheelevator,feelingmorethanalittleuncomfortable.They’reasspeechlessastheBuckinghampalaceguards, standingcloserthanI’dlikeasIwaitfortheelevatortocomedown
Onceinside,Iletoutabreath.Iglanceatmyreflectioninthemirror brushingthepiecesofhairstickingtomyforehead away,tryingtorelaxmyjawsoIdon’tlook quite asmuchlikeIwanttobitesomeone’sheadoff Restingbitchfacecanbea booninmyindustry,butIhaveafeelingthisguyisn’tgoingtoappreciateit.
TypicallyIwouldn’tgiveashit,buttonightIkindofhaveto Thedoors open,andIstepout.Unsurprisingly,there’s moresecurity,andIflashthecardatthemagain.“I’mherefor an appointment,” Itell themflatly, feelingas ifI’ve had to runa gauntletto getup here. “Emma Garcia. I’mfillinginfor Rico Axton”
Thistime,oneoftheguardsverifiesmeagain.Herunsthesamespielthattheonedownintheparkinggaragedidthrough hiswalkie,andthenfinallynods,turningtowaveakeycardinfrontoftheblinkinglockonthefrontdoor “Bossisinside.Goonin.”
Idon’t reallyknow what to expect Istep inbetweenthe two guards, pushingthe door open, and step into a roomthat smellsofleatherandsandalwood.
Iimmediatelyseethatit’sanopenfloorplan,onehugespacewalledinonthreesidesbynothingbutglasswindows,letting thelightsfromthecityfloodinandaddtotheilluminationofthespace Ontheleft,there’samodernkitchenthat’sallgleaming stainlesssteelandblackgranite,cleanedsoimpeccablythatI’dbetIcouldseemyreflectioninthecountertops.There’sahalfmoonbarwiththesameblackgraniteseparatingthekitchenfromtherestofthespace,withindustrial-stylebarstoolsinfrontof it,andantiquebrassshelvingontheoppositewallwithliquorbottlesandcrystalglasses.Infrontofmeisasprawlingliving roomwithlongdarkleathercouchesandanindustrial-stylecoffeetablewithaneatstackofbooksononeend,setinthecenter ofathicktuftedrug.There’salongtablenearoneofthewindowswithanantiquerecordplayeronit,pipingoutmellowmusic thatfillsthespace,andIseeanironstaircasethatleadsuptothesecondfloor.
Atthefarendoftheroom,hisbacktomeashelooksoutofthewindow,isadark-hairedman He’swearingwhatIassume mustbe casual clothes tohim darkgreychinos tailoredsoperfectlythatIcan’tmiss the curve ofhis firmass,anda fitted blackbutton-downwiththesleevesrolledupthathighlightstheleanmusculatureofhisbackandupperarms Hedoesn’tmove, asifhedidn’thearmecomein,andIclearmythroatwithmutedannoyance,settingdownmyequipmentbagwitha thud. There’sabriefpause,andthenthemanturnstofaceme.
Myfirstthoughtisthathe’sincrediblygorgeous.Thickdarkhairexpertlycut,ashadowofstubbleonhischiseledjaw,that perfectlymuscledbodyunderthefittedclothing,andsharpgreeneyesthatfixsquarelyonmethemomentheturnstolook.But that’shardlyunusual here Especiallyinthisarea,apersoncouldtripover fivesupermodelsbeforetheywalkablock Still, there’s somethingarrestingabouthim a certainpresence thatcouldbe arrogance,butI’mnotcertainthatitis.I’mnotsure whattomakeofhim
Themanpresseshislipstogether full,soft-lookinglips,Inotice,muchtomyownannoyance andlooksatmecuriously.
“You’re mytattooartist?NotwhatIwasexpectingwhenRicosaidhewassickandsendingsomeonetocoverforhim.”A perturbedexpressioncrosseshisface “Iputthedepositforthisdownmonthsago”
I’mhardlyRico’sbiggestfan,butIfeelaflashofirritation.“It’snotasifhegotthefluonpurposetoinconvenienceyou,”I tellhimtartly
Hismouthtwitchesatthecorners,asifI’veamusedhim.“I’msurehedidn’t.Andyouare?”
“Emma Garcia I apologize for being late ” I force the words out despite my resistance to apologize to this man for anything. “ andIassureyou,I’mmorethancapableofhandlingwhateveritisthatyouwantedRicotodoforyou.”
“I’msureyouare.”Hisvoiceisdeceptivelymild,butI’mprettysureIcatchahintofdisbelief.It’snothingnew weget walk-insattheNightOrchidallthetimewhodon’tbelieveawomancanbeacapabletattooartist butitpissesmeoffallthe same.I’vespentmycareerinamale-dominatedfield,ignoringcatcallsandlewdremarks,anddisparagingcommentaryfrom peersandclientsalike,untilIgottoapositionwhereIcouldtellsomeofthemtofuckoff
Ican’ttellthismantofuckoff,though.Ihaveafeelinghe’dsimplyhavemethrownoutofhisbuilding,andthenI’dbeout ofajobassoonasRicoheardaboutit
He smiles, displaying perfect white teeth, as perfect as the rest of him. “My apologies,” he says smoothly. “I’ve been terriblyrudeinnotintroducingmyself.I’mDanteCampano.”
Campano
Everythingaroundme slows for a moment,mypulse pickingupwitha suddennervous staccatoas Irecognize the name, andwonder ifitmightnotbeworththerisktomyjobtosimplyturnaroundandleave Theoverwhelmingsecuritypresence andtheirattitude,suddenlymakeschillingsense.
Thisclientisn’tacelebrity,abusinessman,oranathlete. He’samafiaboss.
Thewomanwhowalksintomypenthouseisn’tatallwhatIexpected
WhenRico contacted me to letme know he was sickand offered to reschedule, Iknew he was goingto send out another artist if I insisted onkeepingthe appointment As well-recommended as Rico came, I knew his shop had an equallygoodreputationforbeingstaffedwithexcellentartists.ButIhadn’texpected
Idon’tknow whatIexpected, Isuppose. Another guylike him, maybe. Irealize how itsounds as soonas the gorgeous brunetteinfrontofmetipsherchinupandglaresbackatme,mouthingoffinawaythatnootherpersoninmyorbitwouldever daretodo.Herattitudeisrefreshing,honestly mostofthepeoplethatIencounterinthecourseofadayaretoofrightenedor obsequioustodoanythingotherthanaskhow high ifIsay‘jump’Butonelookatthisgirl,andIknowshe’dtellmetofuckoff ifItriedtoorderhertodoanything.
However for some things, it would be worth it to find out
IshakeoffthethoughtasIintroducemyself.Emmaisstandingtherewithher armscrossedbeneathher breasts,acanvas duffelatherfeet,hergazefixedonmineevenly.She’snotintimidatedbyme,notintheslightest notuntilIsaymyname.
Eventhen,itwouldtakeaperceptivepersontopickuponherreaction Aslightflinch,aquickintakeofbreath hereyes wideningjusttheslightestbit.Thewayshegoesverystillforamoment,asifshe’saddingupahandfulofclues,andtheyall cometothesamesum
Sherecognizesthename.Icanseeitinherface.AndIhaveamoment’stemptationtolethersquirm.
Instead,Ihavemercyonher.Itellmyselfthatit’sbecauseshe’shereforanappointment,andwe’realreadytwentyminutes behind notthatitmatters,really.Sheundoubtedlyclearedherentirenightforme.IonlycalledRicoaboutitbecauseIwasn’t sureiftheartistfillinginforhimhadsimplydecidednottoshow.
Noteveryonewantstotattooamafiaboss It’snotlikeinkingacelebrityorabasketballstar There’stheimpressionthatif youmakemeangry,you’ll findyourselfsinkingsomewhereoffoftheVenicepier.It’s notatacticI’veever employed,tobe honest,butit’snotanideaI’vetriedtoactivelydissuade,either Ifindthatabitoffearisgoodforbusiness
“Letmeseeyourportfolio,”ItellEmma,tryingtocutthroughthesuddentensionintheair.“ItrustRicowouldn’thavesent youifyoudidn’tdogoodwork,butI’dliketoseeyourstyle.”
Sheinstantlyrelaxesthesmallestbit.Icanseeitinthesetofhershoulders,thewaysomeofthetensionleavesherface. “Ofcourse.”Shemotionstooneofthecouches.“Let’ssit?I’llshowyousomeofmywork.”
Inod,walkingovertothesmallerofthetwocouchesasshebringstheduffelover,unzippingitandpullingoutaleatherbackedbinder.“Here.” She hands ittome.“There’s some flashsheets inhere thatI’ve done for some shopevents.AndI’ll pullupmyInstagramsoyoucanseethetattoosI’vedone I’vegotfreshandhealedphotos,soyoucanseehowwellthecolor holds,andthatmylinesdon’tblowout ”
Witheveryword,Icanhearthetensiondrainoutofhervoicealittlebitmore.It’sclearthatshe’sinherelement.There’sa confidenceinhervoicethatwasn’ttherebefore,asIstarttoflickthroughherportfolio
“Your art is lovely.” I scan through the flash there’s a sheet of traditional-style tattoos, one of a variety of fine-line flowers,andthenasheetofmoreGothic-themeddrawings Ipauseonthatone,andsheglancesover
“TherewasaHalloweennightattheshoplastyear,”sheexplains.“$150foraflashpieceonanarmorleg.Ivolunteered todosomewithaVictoriangothictheme”
“They’rewonderful.”I’mnotexaggerating,either eventhesimplelinedrawings haveacrisplookandfinedetails that makemelingeroverthepage,lookingovereachofthembeforeIturnit.“Letmeseesomeofyourtattoowork,though.”
Emmahandsmeherphonewithoutcomplaint,openedtohersocialmedia AquickscantellsmeallIneedtoknow she’s exceptionallytalented,andherworkholdsup.Shehashealed,six-month,andyear-longphotosofseveralofhertattoos,andI cansee thatthe lines are still firmand the colors are vibrant She manages to capture all the details ofher drawings inthe tattoosthemselves,too,andIfindmyselfscrollingfurtherandfurtherdown,takinginoneafteranother.
“Likewhatyousee?”There’satouchofdefensivenesstohervoice,asifshe’sexpectingmetosayotherwise “Absolutely.”Ihandherbackherphone.“Youdogorgeouswork.I’mgladRicosentyou.”
“So you’re fine with me being the one to handle your session?” She still sounds unconvinced, and I wonder if it’s somethingtodowithherboss,orifthere’sanotherreason.
“Doyoutattoohigh-levelclientsoften?Youmust,withskillslikethese Privateappointments,thatsortofthing?” Iexpecther to take itas a compliment, regardless ofthe answer. Butinstead, Emma presses her lips together, as ifI’ve struckanerve
“No,” she says shortly. “I handle my own clients in the shop. And walk-ins, when there’s time. Rico takes the private inquiries”
There it is.It’sclearshedoesn’tintendtosayanythingfurtheraboutit thatshedoesn’twanttobadmouthherboss,which isadmirable.Goodbusiness,that’sfor certain,especiallywhenhe’sstill meanttodomyfutureappointments.ButIcanalso hearthehintofresentmentinhertone She’sclearlynotthrilledaboutthearrangement
“Keepsthegoodonesforhimself,hm?”Iaddabitoflevitytomytone,butEmmajustshrugs,standingupfromthecouch. She’s wearing light-wash jeans and a black ribbed tank top with a black-and-blue loose checked button-down over it, the sleevesrolleduptoherelbows.Icanseetattoosonbotharms afinelydetailedsnakewindingaroundonearm,interspersed withcrystalsinthespacesbetweenthecoils,andaveritablegardenofflowersontheother Herclotheslookwell-wornand soft,asifshegoesbacktothesameoutfitstimeandagain ormaybeshedoesn’thavethefundstosparetogoshoppingfor newones.
“He’stheboss Hemakestherules”Sheundoestheoutershirt,shruggingitoffjustasIlookupfromtheportfoliothatI’d startedtoperuseagain,andI’mmomentarilytakenaback.
Emma is beautiful, but notinthe wayI’mused to Idate models and actresses more oftenthannot, womenwithmultithousand-dollarwardrobesandexpensiveweeklybeautyregimens,hairextensions,boobjobs,andlipsmadefullerandsofter bythemiraclesofmodernscience.Emmais entirelydifferent.
She’snaturallybeautiful,inawaythatstandsoutinacitywhereartificeislargelyworshiped.Herhairisthickanddark, withanaturaltexturetoit,pulledupinahighponytailthatmakesmeitchtotugthebandholdingitlooseandseehowitwould fall around her face Her eyes are wide and darkinher deeplytanned face, whichis bare ofanymakeup Icanmake outa smatteringoffrecklesacrosshernose,herlipslightlychappedfromthedryheat,butstillsoft-lookingandfullandpink.Ican imaginethesoftindentinherbottomlip,ifIpressedmyfingeragainstit Andherbody
She’safuckingknockout.Ifeelmycocktwitchthemomentsheshrugsofftheshirt,revealingleanshouldersandtautarms intheblacktanktop,whichridesupjustenoughtoshowoffastripoftannedskinbetweentheedgeofitandthewaistofher jeans.Herarmtattooswindaroundherupperarmsandacrosshershoulders,thetailofthesnakeononesideanglingbeneath hercollarbone.Icanseethehintofageometrictattooinhercleavage,andIfeelmycocktwitchwithinterestagain,swelling againstmythighasIimaginestrippingawaythetanktopanddiscoveringtherestofthetattoobetweenherbreasts
Her ears and nose are pierced, and I catch my gaze wandering back to her breasts, wondering if her nipples are, too. Anotherthrob,theacheinmygroinspreading,andIgritmyteeth Afewmoreminutesofthis,andI’mgoingtohaveapainful hard-onformytattoosession.Butitfeelsimpossibletodistractmyself.She’sunlikeanygirlI’veeverdated.
Or ever will date The logical side of my brain clicks on just in time as Emma is setting up her equipment at the bar counter,remindingme why thatis Shemightbebeautiful,attractiveinanumberofways,evenbeyondthephysical,butshe’s entirelyunsuitedtomeandmylifestyle.She’snotthekindofgirlIcouldeveractuallyconsiderarelationshipwith ifIwere eventherelationshiptype,whichhistoricallyIhaven’tbeen
AwomanlikeEmmamightaswellbefromadifferentplanet;sheandIaresounalike.
Besides, IremindmyselfasEmmamotionsmeover,andIstandup, she’s here for business Try to be professional MycockhassoftenedenoughthatIcanatleastwalkacrosstheroomwithoutwonderingifI’llembarrassmyselfifEmma looksbelowmybelt.Still,it’sanefforttokeepmymindclearofthesortofthoughtsthatmightchangethat.Emmaisstanding nexttooneofthebarstools,andshegivesmeapleasantsmileasIapproach
“You’llhavetoforgiveme,”shesaysasIsitdown.“Ibroughtthefilewiththestencilswithme,butRicodidn’tfillmein muchbeyondthat Whereareyougettingthisdone?”
“Myback.”Isitonthestoolfacingthecounter,reachingforthetopbuttonsofmyshirt.“Afullbackpiece,ifyoulookat thedrawings”
“And you know that will take multiple sessions, right?” Emma looks at me curiously. “Rico will be doing the others. You’recomfortablewithhavingtwoseparateartistsworkingonyou?”
“Your style is verysimilar tohis” Ishrugoffmyshirt,andIdon’tmiss the wayEmma pauses ever-so-briefly,her gaze flickingtomybarechestasifshecan’tquitehelpherself.“Idon’tseeanyissuewithbothofyouworkingonit.”
“Alright, then” Emma reaches for the stencils, looking themover “This is a lovely design Did you come up with it together?”
“Ihadtheidea.Hejustbroughtittogether.”Ipause,glancingoverather.“Ifyouwanttoaddanythingtoit ”
Emma’seyesnarrow asshelooksatthedesign.“Maybesomeadditionalflowers,justuphere ”Herfingersbrushover theedgeofmyshoulder,lightagainstmyskin,andmytraitorouscocktwitchesagainstmythighoncemore.
What the hell is going on with me tonight? It’snotasifI’mstarvedforpleasure Ihadadate’slipswrappedaroundme twonightsago,justbeforeIcamedownherthroat.Butsomehow,Emma’sfeatherlighttouchasshetraceswhereshe’dliketo add details to the tattoo is sparking a heated desire throughout my body that feels different from the usual lust that I’m accustomedto.
There’sagentlenesstohertouchthat’sunfamiliar Itsendsanachethroughmethatmakesmeuncomfortable,becauseI’m notsureI’veeverfeltitbefore.AndifIweregoingtofeelit,itshouldn’tbewithsomeonelikeher.
Someoneentirelyunsuitednotonlytome,buttoanythingImightwant
“I’mgoingtostartapplyingthestencils.”Emma’shanddrops,andIfindmyselfinstantlymissinghertouch,“Eventhough I’monlygoingtobeoutliningpartofittonight,I’mstillgoingtoapplythewholedesign,soIcanseehowitwillallflow.Rico hasplentyofextrastencilsdrawnup,sodon’tworryaboutthat”
“Whateveryouthinkisbest.”Imeanit,too.Ifnothingelse,Ifeel confidentthatsheknowswhatshe’sdoing.Herearlier uncertainty has melted away entirely, and I find myself fascinated as I watch her beginning to go through the motions of preppingme for the session. Her hands especially they’re long-fingered and delicate-looking, and I find myself replaying how they felt tracing along the tops of my shoulders before I can catch myself I lean forward against the counter as she squeezestheinkintosmall caps,plugginginhertattoomachineandtestingitbeforeshepullsonapairofglovesandcomes aroundbehindmetostartapplyingthestencils.
Evenwiththelayeroflatexbetweenherskinandmine,Istillhavetostopmyselffromshiveringathertouch Idon’tthinkI entirelymanageit,becauseIhearherlaughsoftlybehindmeasshepressesthefirststenciltomyshoulder,smoothingitagainst myskin
“Cold?”sheasksteasingly.“It’syourhouse,youknow.Itcanbeaswarmorascoldasyoulike.”
“Ididn’tthinkI’dneedtowarmitup.”Thetruthis,I’mnotactuallycold.Myskinfeelsheatedeverywhereshetouchesme, sendingaflushofwarmththroughmybodythat’satoddswiththecoolsensationofherapplyingthetattoostencil.
“Californianightscanbechilly.”Hervoicehasthecasual toneofsomeonemakingsmall talk,butIcan’thelpbutthinkI hearanundercurrentofsomethingelse unlessI’mimaginingit Herhandsmoothsovertheothersideofmyshoulder “Ilike it,though.Ilovewalkingdownthebeachbehindmycondoonnightslikethis.”
“IsthatwhatI’mkeepingyoufromrightnow?Myapologies”Ifeelmyjawtightenasherhandsmoothsdownthecenterof myback.I’vegottenplentyoftattoosbefore myarmsareinkedallthewaydowntomyhands,aswellasthetopofmychest but I’ve never found the application process sensual before. Nothingabout this should be remotely sexual, and yet with everypassofherhandagainstmyskin,Ifeelmycockrisingwithinterest,swellingalongmythighuntilIwonderifI’dbeable tostandupatall.
“No,I’dbeatworkrightnowotherwise”There’satingeofhumorinhervoice “Ididhaveotherclientstonight But they werewillingtoreschedule.”
Idon’tmissthepointedwayshesaysit I,ofcourse, wasn’t willingtoreschedule,whichledtoherbeinghereinRico’s stead.
“I’mabusyman.Ican’tjustshufflethingsaroundasIplease.Besides,you’rebeingwell-compensatedfortonight Ican’t imaginethatit’s that muchofadetriment ”
Emmasnorts,smoothingthelastofthestencilagainstmylowerback.“I’mnotgettingpaidforthis,”shesayscrisply.“My bossis Now golookinthemirror,”sheadds,asshepeelsthestencilsaway “Letmeknow ifyouwantanythingchangedor moved.I’llhavetoreapplyifso.Butbettertoknownowthanbeforeit’spermanentlyonyourbody.”
Shit Somewhereinthemidstoftheconversationandhertouchingme,mycockhasrisentofullmast Ican’tthinkofany waythatIcanstandupwithouthernoticing.I’mnotexactlylackinginthatdepartment,andIcanfeelitstrainingagainstmyfly. “Itrustyou.”Thewordscomeoutmorequicklythantheyshouldhave,andIgritmyteeth,hopingshedoesn’tnotice.“I’m sureitlooksperfect”
“Betterifyoucheck.”Thathumorisbackinhervoice,butthere’sanoteofinsistence,too,aclearmessagethatshe’snot goingtotakenoforananswer Thebossinessdoesnothingtoabatemyarousal ifanything,itmakesitworse I spend all of mytime witheither sycophants and clingers, peers who are onlymyallies so longas it serves us both, enemies,ormybrothers Ican’tsayI’veeverencounteredawomanbeforewhowouldtalkbacktome,orwhodidn’tbehave asifshe needed myattention.ButEmmaneitherneedsnorwantsit.She’sconfidentandforthright,and,ifIhadtoguess,would actuallyprefertobeanywhere other thaninmypenthousetonight.
Andforsomereason perhapsoutofsheernovelty,ifnothingelse thatfactismakingmealmostpainfullyerect “Ifsomethingiswrongwithit,anditendsuponyoupermanently,Idon’twantthatcomingbacktobiteme.”Emmatakesa stepback,motioningformetogetup “Thisismyjob Soplease,gocheckit,andletmeknowifyouwantanythingdifferent” It’sclearshe’snotgoingtogivememuchofachoice.Ihonestlythinkshemightrefusetogothroughwiththeappointmentif Ididn’t.SoIstandup,tryingtoanglemyselfawayfromherasIwalktothestaircase.“I’llbebackdowninamoment,”Itell her,glancingbacktoseeherleaningagainstthebar,hergazecarefullyblank.Ican’ttellifshe’snoticedthestateI’minornot Emmaclearlyhasanexcellentpokerface.
Sheshrugs.“Goahead.”
Once in my bathroom, I look at the stencil. Everything looks impeccably placed, just as I expected I can’t think of anythingIwouldchange Ireachdown,pressingtheheelofmyhandagainstmycockinanefforttogetittosoften,lettingouta longbreathas Ionce againwonder whatthe hell is wrongwithme. It’s beena longtime since a womanhas gottenme so workedup,andneverthiseasily
Mycockthrobsundermyhand,andIconsider,justforamoment,quicklyrubbingoneoutwhileI’maloneuphere.Itwould relievesomeofthetension,ifnothingelse andtheappointmentaheadofmeisalongone Butsomethingabouttheideaof jerkingoffwhileEmmawaitsformedownstairsstopsme.
There’sanappealtoit,certainly theslightchanceofgettingcaughtismorethanalittleexciting.Jerkingoffintheprivacy ofmyownhomeisn’tusuallyafurtivething it’s my penthouse,andifawomanishere,she’salwaysinvolved Buteventhat flickerofaddedarousalisn’tenoughtopushmeoverthatline.
I’dthinkaboutherwhileIdidit Iwouldn’tbeabletostopmyself AndIcan’thelpbutfeelthatshedeservesbetterthan that,thanunknowinglybeingthesubjectofmyfantasieswhileshewaitsdownstairstodoherjob.
It’s a ridiculous feeling, honestly Idon’tevenknow her Butit’s enoughto make me shake offthe urge, and head back towardsthestairs.
I’m a grown man with a healthy sex life. Surely, I can manage one evening with an attractive woman without being overcomewithlust
Surely.
IwatchDantegoupstairs,gratefulforamomentalonetocomposemyself
He’s notmyusual type.Igofor menwhoare less intimidating or rather,menwhodon’t think they’re intimidating. Thearrogant,upper-classshtickdoesn’tworkonme Infact,Itypicallyfindittobeaturnoff
ButIcan’thelpfeelingatwingeofsomethingaroundDante.Morethanatwinge,ifI’mbeinghonest.Fromthemomenthe turned around, Iwas struckbyhow distractinglyattractive he is. Seeinghimtake offhis shirtdidn’thelp. It’s beena while sinceI’vewatchedamanevenpartiallyundressinfrontofme,anditmadeitmorethanalittledifficulttofocusonsettingup ThatleanphysiquethatI’dglimpsedundertheshirtbecamemoreapparentwhenhestrippeditoff,revealingtautmuscles,the tattoos onhis arms, and the smoothplanes ofhis upper chest I’d had the urge to reachoutand touchhim and gettingto a momentlater,eveninapurelyprofessionalcapacity,sentaheatthroughmethatfeltincrediblynot professional.
He must have felt it, too, if the thick ridge that I saw pressing against his fly when he stood up was any inclination I understoodveryquicklywhyhe’dbeenhesitanttogoandcheckthestencil.
Butattheendoftheday,thisismyjob.IremindmyselfofthatasIleanagainstthebar,waitingforhim,tryingtopushall inappropriatethoughtsoutofmyhead Iwon’tseehimagainaftertonightanyway Ricowillbedoinghisfutureappointments andthat’sforthebest.Especiallyconsideringwhatheis.
Mafia Thethoughtmakesmystomachtwistwithanxiety I’vebeenonedgeeversincehetoldmehisname,tryingmybest nottothinkaboutit.It’syetanotherreasonwhyIwasn’tabouttoputsomuchasadropofinkinhisskinwithoutbeingcertain hewashappywiththedesign.Idon’tknowverymuchaboutthemafialifestyle,butIhaveenoughofanideatofeelfairlysure thatanunhappymafiabosswouldbebadformyhealth.
I’vehadenoughgoingoninmylifeinrecentmonths.Idon’tneedtoaddanythingelsetoit.Infact,ifRicohadbothered tellingmeDante’sname,Imighthaveactuallytriedtoargueagainstfillinginforhim ThisisthelastthingthatIevenneedto associatewith thelastthingthatIshouldbelettingevenaglimmerofintomylife.
Strictly business,IremindmyselfagainasIhearDante’sfootstepsonthestairs,headingbackdown Iforcemyselftoturn backtomystation,checkingtheinkandneedlesagain,ratherthangetafullviewofhisbarechestashedescendsbacktothe firstfloor.Ican’tshakeitfrommyimagination,though notthefirmmusclesbeneathsmoothinkedskin,orthewayhisdefined absmakethatv-shapeastheydisappearbeneathhisbelt.
“Everythinglooksperfect,”hetellsmeinhissmooth,lightlyaccentedvoiceashesitsbackdown.“Youcanstartwhenever youlike”
“Alright, then.” Itriple-checkeverything, and thenturnto him, the buzzofthe machine fillingthe air as Imove to stand behindhim “Thelessyoumove,theeasierthiswillbe”
“I’ll sit like a rock,” he promises. AlthoughI don’t entirelybelieve him I’ve knownplentyof menwho flinched and squirmedatthe firsthitofa tattooneedle he doesn’tsomuchas twitchas Istarttooutline the base ofthe tattoo.Dante is perfectlystill,asstillasthemarblepillarsoneithersideofthetattoostenciledacrosshisback,andIletoutaslowbreath At leasthe’sgoingtomakethispartofmyjobeasier.
“Your armtattoos are beautiful,” Dante observes,whenImove nexttohimtodipmyneedle inthe blackinkagain “Do theyhaveanyparticularmeaning?”
“The flowers do,” Itell himneutrally, focusingonthe outline as Imove the needle throughhis skin “The snake is just becauseIdrew itupandlikedit,soIgotRicototattooitonme.AlthoughIguessitdoeshavesomemeaning thattattoois whatgotustalking,ledtomyapprenticeshipwithhim.”
“Howso?”Danteaskscuriously,andIshrug
“Helikedmydrawing,andIwantedtolearnhowtotransfermyarttoskin.Hewantedanewapprentice.Rightplace,right time,Isuppose Iwaslucky”
“Andtalented.”Danteturnshisheadslightly,lookingatmeinhisperiphery.“I’mnotsurprisedhewantedtotakeyouon.”
“Notsomuchtalentasyearsofhardwork I’vebeendrawingsinceIwasakid Thiswasjustanother stepafter alotof practiceandeffort.”
“Icanunderstandthat,”Dantesaysthoughtfully,andIhavetosuppressasnort.Lookingaroundthisplace,Ican’timagine thathe’s ever had to workfor anythinginhis life. Everythinghe has, he likelyinherited fromor was paid for byhis daddy, includingthepenthouseI’mstandingin ApenthousethatprobablycostmorethanI’lleverseeinmyentirelifetime He hasn’tactivelydone anythingto make me resenthim, butit’s hard not to resentsomeone like that. EspeciallywhenI thinkofthepileofbillssittingonmykitchencounter,mockingmeeverymorningwhenIgotomakeacupofcoffee
“Youhavealighttouch,”Danteobserves,whenthesilencestretchesonfortoolong.“Moresothanotherartistswhohave workedonme”
“Sometattooartiststhinkatattoobeingpainfulisapartofit.Ithinkthere’snoreasonnottohavealighthandandmakeit aspleasantaspossible.”IglanceathimasIdiptheneedleagain.“Idon’tthinkmyclientshaveanythingtoprove.”
Asmirkcurlsthecornerofhismouth “Notevenme?”
“You’renotmyclient,”ItellhimflatlyasIpresstheneedleintohisskinagain.
“Fortonight,Iam”Hisfaceisturnedaway,butIcanstillhearthatsmirkinhisvoice
“You’dhavetobepayingmetobemyclient.AndlikeIsaid,Ricoisstilltakingthefeeforthis.”Itrytokeepthebitterness outofmyvoice, butit’s hard Notgettingpaid for tonightis goingto setme evenfurther behind It’s notDante’s fault, not exactly,butit’sdifficultnottobeirritatedbothwithhimforrefusingtoreschedule,andwithRicoforinsistingongettingpaid foraclienthedidn’tworkon.
“Thatdoesn’tseemright” Dante’s voice is mellow enoughthatIcan’tpickup onhow he reallyfeels aboutit “You’re doingthework.”
“He’stheboss”Iinkanothersmoothlineacrosshisolive-tonedskin “NotreallysomethingIcanargueabout”
“Andyou’veonlyeverworkedforhim?Iguessso,ifyouapprenticedunderhim,”Dantesaysthoughtfully,answeringhis ownquestion.“Everthoughtaboutleaving?”
“It’snotthateasy.Notwhenyouworkforsomeoneaswell-knownandwell-connectedasheis.IfIleaveunderthewrong circumstances,itcouldbescorchedearthformewithanydecentshopinLA.”Iletoutasharpbreath.“Butwedon’tneedto talkaboutallthis”
“I’mnotgoingtosharewhatyoutellmewithRico,ifyou’reworriedaboutthat.”Danteturnshisheadtolookatmeagain, butIdon’tlookupfrommywork
“None ofthis has anythingto do withyou.” Istraighten, dippingmyneedle again. “It’s justnotwhatIshould be talking aboutwithaclient.”
“Admirableloyalty.”DanteshiftsalittlebeforeIreturntotattooinghim.
“Doyouneedabreak?”Ichangethesubject,unwillingtosayanythingelseaboutmyjob,ormyrelationshiptomyboss. “Wecantakeoneifyoulike,butI’llwarnyou,theskinwillstarttotighten,andit’llbemoreuncomfortableafter”
“It’shardlyhurtatallsofar,soIcan’timagineit’llbethatbad.ButI’mfine.”
There’s silencefor afew moments,as Imove ontothenextbitofthe sectionIchosetoworkontonight Istartedatthe base, the wayIusuallydo, buta partofme feels a little jealous thatRico will be the one to getto tattoo the flowers thatI addedontothestencil.It’snotunfair,consideringI’minkinghisworkrightnow,butitstillmakesmefeelodd.
It’s surprisinglyhardnottoopenuptoDante He’s notas arrogantas Ifirstthought or atleast,heisn’tcomingoffthat way,like the stereotype ofa mobboss thatIexpected.Ihadn’tthoughthe wouldaskme questions aboutmyself,andIdon’t entirelyknowhowIfeelaboutit It’snotreallyasubjectI’mcomfortablewith EspeciallywithastrangerlikeDante.
I’mrelievedwhenit’stimetocoverthetattooandpackup Iwipeawaytheremainingstencil,andtakeanaftercaresheet outofmybag.
“I’msureyou’refamiliarwiththis,”Itellhim,settingitonthebarcounter.“ButjustsoI’mdoingmyduediligence.Rico willbeintouchwithyoutosetupthenextappointmentwhenhefeelsbetter”IhesitateasIstarttopackupmythings “Itwas nicemeetingyou.”
“Youaswell”Dantestandsup,wincingslightly IcanfeelhisgazeonmeasIreachformyphonetotextRicoandlethim knowI’mfinished.I’veonlyjustopeneditwhenIfeelDante’shandbrushagainstmineasheslipsthephoneoutofmyhand.
“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”Ilookupathim,startled,asItrytograbitback Hemovesoutofmyreachwithagrin,a mischievoustwinkleinhiseyesthatseemsentirelyatoddswithwhoIknowhimtobe.
“I’mgivingyoumynumber,”hesayssmoothly.“Justincaseyouthinkofanythinglaterthatyoumighthaveforgottentotell meaboutcaringforthetattoo”
“Youhaveplentyofthemalready,”Itell himcrossly,tryingtograbmyphoneagain.I’mas irritatedbythefactthathe’s makingmegrabchildishlyformyownphoneasIamthathetookit
“Thengivemeyournumber,soIcancallyouifIhaveanyquestions.”Thatsmirkisstillplayingonhislipsashetakesa stepback.
“I’mnotyour artist,” Irepeat, exasperated. “Ifyoucan’tgetahold ofRico and askhim, thenyoucancall the shop. You don’tneedmypersonalnumber.”
“Well,nowyouhavemine.”Hesmiles,handingmethephoneback.“Justincase.” Iletoutasharpbreath,shovingmyphoneinmypocketasIreachfor mybag.“Iwon’tneedit,”Itell himflatly.“Ifyou haveanyquestions,textRico”Ipause,holdingoutahand “Itwasnicetomeetyou” I already said that. Mycheeks flusha little, butifhe remembers or notices, Dante says nothing. He justtakes myhand, shakingit,andItrytoignorethetinglethatrunsupmyarmatthetouchofhishandagainstmine “Here.” He slips somethingintomypalmwithhis other hand,as he’s still holdingmine,andIfeel the smoothtexture of foldedbills “Atip,sinceRicoisn’tpayingyou” IfeellikeI’msupposedtosayyou don’t have to,butthetruthis,Ineedit.“Thanks,”Imanage.“Alwaysnicewhenaclient tipstheirartist.”
“IthoughtyousaidIwasn’tyourclient?”Thesmirklooksfartoogoodonhismouth Itearmygazeawayfromhislipsand uptohiseyes,frowning.
“Well,Iwas yourartistforthenight We’llleaveitatthat” “Ofcourse.”Danteisstill smiling,butIthinkIhear ahintofregretinhistone.Idon’tdarelinger onthethoughtfor too long
IcanstillfeelthebrushofhisfingersagainstmyhandwhenIreachmycar.MyheartispoundinginawaythatIhaven’tfelt inalongtime maybenotever.Ican’treallyrememberanymanhavingaffectedmelikethis.Andthere’ssomethingelse,too asurgeofadrenalinefromajobwelldone I’venevertattooedaprivateclientbefore Itfeltlikeachallenge andknowing IdidwellfeelslikethekindofwinthatI’veneededforawhilenow.Somethingtoremindmethatthingscouldbeginlooking up,evenwhensomuchisdifficultrightnow
Evenso,asIputmyphoneinmypocketandmybaginthebackofthetrunk,ImakeamentalnotetodeleteDante’snumber frommyphoneassoonasIgethome.
.Nothinggoodcancomeofhavingit.Idon’tthinkIimaginedtheattractiononbothsides hiswas very visible andthe lastthingIneedistotexthiminamomentofdrunkenweakness.Notonlywoulditlookbadprofessionally,butDanteCampano isthelastthingIneedinmylife
ThiseveningneedstobeboththefirstandlasttimeIeverencounterhim.IremindmyselfofthatagainasItossmyphone ontothepassenger’sseatandstarttheChevelle thetemptationisonethatIdon’tneed Ican’thelpfeelingatwingeofregretthatIwon’tbegoingbacktocontinueworkingonthetattoo.ThedesignthatDante collaboratedonwithRicowasbeautiful theRiverStyxwithmarblepillarsatthesides,skullsrisingfromthechurningwater andevaporatingintoflowers…includingtheonesthatIadded.IhavenodoubtthatitwillalllookseamlesswithRico’sskill, butI’veneverstartedatattoobeforethatsomeoneelsewouldbefinishing.Ican’tsayIliketheideaofit.
Or do you just want an excuse to go back and see him again?There’sapointedvoiceatthebackofmyheadthatdoesn’t wanttoletthatgo,andIfrown,focusingontheroadasIdrivebacktomycondo.MaybeI’mjustdeprived it’sbeenawhile sinceI’vehadsomeoneinmybed butIcan’tshakethepictureofDantesittingonthebarstool,undoingthebuttonsofhisshirt asherevealedhismuscledchestaninchatatime.Ifeelheatunfurlinmybellyatthememory,afaintachespreadingthrough me.Itmakesmefeelrestless,andIspeedupalittle,theroadsclearernowthantheywereearlierthisevening.
Still, it’s later thanI’d like whenI get home I parkmycar, makingsure to take everythingout of it robberies aren’t unusual,andI’vehadmorethanonebrokencarwindow.Once,someoneeventriedtohotwireit,butIdon’tthinktheycould driveastickshift,becausetheyeventuallygaveupandleftthecaralone albeitinneedofenoughrepairsthatIwastakingthe bustoworkforafewmonths.
Thelobbyofmybuildingsmellsstronglyofsomeonecookingheavilyspicedfood,andmystomachrumbles I’monafirstnamebasiswithafewofmyneighbors Mrs.Montgomeryacrossthehall,forone,andoldMr.Priceonthesamefloor butI don’tknowanyonewholivesonthelowerlevel.Ifeelslightlyregretful ifMrs.Montgomeryweretheonecooking,Icould knockonthedoorandgetaplate,ifshehadn’talreadyleftonecoveredformeonmymat
I’mgratefulthatIhavegoodneighbors,atleast.It’smadethelastsixmonthseasierthantheymighthavebeenotherwise. I slip mykeyinto the lock, still tryingto exorcise Dante frommythoughts I toss myphone and keys onto the counter, crossingthekitchentogetabeeroutofthefridge,andtrynottolookatthepileofbillsonthecounter.Thetiphegavemeisin myjeanspocket,andIfishitout,takingalongsipofmybeerasIcountitout
Athousand dollars... Itake a breath, settingthe bills down. There’s no wayhe could have known butit’s more thanI wouldhavemadetonightifIhadn’thadtoreschedulemyclients.Iwouldhavehadtohaveanexceptionallygoodnighttowalk awaywithaprofitlikethat IlookatitforalongtimeasIsipmybeer,wonderingifIshouldtellRico
IfIdo,he’llexpectapartofit.ButifIhideitandhefindsout ifDantementionsitattheirnextsession,forexample,I’ll wishI’dchosento‘fessup Still,it’shardtothinkoflosinganyofit
“I’llfigureitouttomorrow,”Imurmurtomyself,sweepingthemoneyoffofthecounterandtuckingitintoanenvelopethat IkeeponmybookshelfforcashtipsuntilIcantakethemtothebank.Isinkontothecouch,popthecapoffofasecondbeer, and switchonthe television. There’s nothinginparticular that I want to watch, but it feels good to be home, the windows crackedtoletthesaltbreezeandsoundofthewavesin.ItfillsthelivingroomwithasenseofpeacethatIimaginecanonlybe
foundhere inthisplace,inthiscity.It’sapartofthereasonI’veneverleft. Evenwhen,foralittlewhile,IthoughtImightwantto.
I’vealwaysbeenpronetostayinguplate thenatureofmyjobisthatI’mlatetobedandlatetorise,butevenwhenIwas younger,Istruggledwiththeschedulesimposedonmebytheschoolsystem.Ihatedbeinginbedbytentogetupatseveninthe morning,andmyfather’serraticshootingschedulesfor thefilmsheworkedondidn’thelp Heoftentoldmethatifhecould have keptme athome, he would have. Itwould have made things easier for me. Buthe couldn’tteachme himself, and my motherwaslonggone Thepublicschoolsystemwastheonlyoptionforme
And not a good one, Ithinkwryly,absentlyrubbingascaronthebackofmythumb.Thecarelesstouchmakesmethinkof Dante,oddlyenough ofthewayitfeltwhenhetookmyhand,ofthesmoothnessofhisskinundermyfingerswhenItouched him
I’veneverfeltthatwaywithaclient.Businessisbusiness,andnomatterhowintimatetheareaI’maskedtotattooorhow attractivetheclient,I’veneverlookedatthemthatway Idon’tknowwhythiswasdifferent
Theprivatesetting,maybe.Butregardless,itdoesn’tmatter.DanteCampanoisn’tsomeoneIshouldbespendingthismuch timethinkingabout
There’s one good way to take the edge off. Twobeersin,theideaissoundingbetterandbetter,evenifI’mgoingtohave trouble not thinkingofDante.I’vegottenfartoogoodattakingcareofmyownneeds,butlately,it’sfeltliketoomuchtrouble totrytofindsomeonetodoitforme I’maslikelytofindamanwho’sselfishinbedasonewho’snot,andtheentireprocess hasstartedtofeelexhausting.Iusedtolikegoingouttobars,flirting,goinghomewithsomeonenew butIhaven’tbeenable tomustertheenergynecessaryinwhatfeelslikealongtimenow
Itmightalsobethatitdoesn’tentirelyfeellikethishouseismineyet likeit’smyprivatespace,insteadofmychildhood home.Ihaven’tbeenabletofeelcomfortablebringinganyonebacktoit.
Well, tonight, I don’t have to. Ifinishthelastofmybeer,tossitintherecycling,andslipintothesmall bathroominthe hall.Thecondoistiny onelargerbedroomandonesmaller,withonebathroom.Thatbathroomhasjustenoughspacefora shower, toilet, and sink no bathtub and growing up, I always wanted the luxury of soaking in a hot bath On the few occasionswhenI’vedatedsomeonewithatubintheirapartmentlongenoughtoasktouseit,Idon’thesitate.
Iturnonthehotwater,leavingmyclothes inapileonthefloor andsteppinginside Itfeels goodafter thedayI’vehad, washingawaythegrimyfeelfromsittinginthecitytrafficandtheachesinmymusclesfromthehoursoftattooing.Iwashmy hair,takingmytimescrubbingmyscalpuntilIfeelsureIwon’twakeupwithaheadacheinthemorning.Then,Isimplystand thereforalittlewhile,enjoyingtheheatedpoundingofthewateragainstmyshoulders.
TherearealotofissueswiththelittlecondoInowown,butatleastwaterpressurehasneverbeenoneofthem.
Idryoff,tossingmyclothesintothehamperasIwalknakedtothebedroom Islipintobedunderthecovers,leavingmy windowscrackedforthebreeze,andreachintothedrawernexttomybed.Ionlyowntwotoys oneasimplevibratorandthe otherafancieronethatIgotatafriend’sbachelorettepartyonce andIhesitateasIreachintothedrawer Apartofmejust wantstogoforsimpleandquick getoffandgotosleep.ButIdon’tthinkthat’sgoingtobeenoughtosatisfytheacheIfeel tonight.
WhatIreallywantis someone else withme the feelingofhands and lips onmybody, skinbrushingagainstmine It’s beenawhilesinceI’vereallywantedthat.Butfortonight,thiswillhavetodo.
Islipthedildooutofmydrawer,settingitandabottleoflubenexttomeasIreachformyphone It’sbeenlongenoughthat Ihaveacoupleofgo-tovideosthatalwaysseemtogetthejobdone that,orafewspicystoriesthatIhavedownloadedfor justa time like this butas Ipull up the firstvideo and slide myhand underneaththe covers, Idon’tfeel the usual rushof arousalasIstarttowatch.Ifeelveryawareofhowfakeitallseems thepracticedmoans,thejust-rightposesforthecamera, thewayeventhemanseemsmoreconcernedwithhisperformancethanwhetheranyoneisactuallyenjoyingwhat’shappening. He’s tall and muscled and blond the surfer type I’ve typicallygone for whendating but I just feel bored I bite mylip, switchingtoanothervideo oneoftwoguysenjoyinga very enthusiasticgirlpinnedbetweenthem.
But it’s just not working I rub my finger over my clit, increasing the pressure, sliding my fingers downwards to slide againstmyentrance,butI’mbarelyevenwet.Thatfrustratedacheonlyintensifies,butthepornisn’tdoingitforme.
Idon’twanttoadmitthatit’s because I’mnotjusthorny Dante gotme all workedup,andmyusual means oftakingthe edgeoffaren’tworkingbecausewhatIwantissomethingdifferent.
SomethingIshouldn’t andcan’t have.
Stilllazilyteasingmyselfwithmyfingertips,Ipullupaspicystoryinstead
Iscanthroughitquickly,lookingforthegood parts butmythoughtskeepdriftingbacktoDante.HisdarkhairthatI’dlovetorunmyhandsthrough,thatchiseled,stubbled jawthatwouldfeelintenselygoodrubbingalongmyinnerthighs,thosemusculararmsthatwouldflexabovemeashepinsme downand
Thatheatinmybellyuncoils,spreadingthroughme,makingmegaspsoftlywiththepulseofarousalthatjoltsbetweenmy thighs.“Oh, fine,”Igrowlundermybreath,swipingfrustratedlyatmyphonetoclosethewindowIhadopenbeforetossingit nexttomeonthebedandlyingbackagainstmypillows.
OnceIletthefantasytakeover,thearousalisinstantandoverwhelming.Insteadoflookingatmyartontheleathercouchin his apartment, Dante is settingthe folio aside and turningto me instead, capturingmyface inhis long-fingered hand as he drawsmymouthtohis Hereachesformyotherhand,tuggingitintohislap,pressingitagainstthethickoutlineofhiserection ashekissesmehard,spillingmebackontothecouchwiththeurgencyofhowmuchhewantsme.
“Fuck ”Ibreathealoud,spreadingmythighsalittleasIreachfor thedildo It’shardtopull myfingersawayfrommy now-swollenclit,thepleasurejoltingthroughmeinburstsofsensationthatIwanttokeepchasing.ButIwanttoimaginehow itwouldfeeltobefilledupbyhimmore
Myhandswipesagainstmyphone,knockingitasideasIfumblefor thetoyandthebottleoflube.Abrushofmyfingers againstmyentrancetellsmeIdon’tneedthelatter I’msoakingwet,moresothanIcaneverrememberhavingbeenbefore.I feel myselfclenchinanticipationas Islide the dildo downbetweenmythighs, imaginingDante tuggingdownmyjeans, his fingersseekingoutthatslickheatashespreadsmeforhisthickcock.
“Oh ohgod ”ImoanasIpressthetipagainstmyself,feelingmyhipsarchupwards,desperateformore Inmyfantasy, we’rebothnakednow,clothesstrippedoffandscatteredacrossthegleamingwoodenfloor,Dantemurmuringfilthythingsinto myearasthetipofhiscockpushesintome He’sbig,sobigthatthestretchisalmosttoomuch,butIwrapmylegsaroundhis hips,pullinghimdeeperasIpantandbegformoreofhiminsideofme.
“More, Dante, please ” I whimper, pushing the toy deeper, feeling the pleasure spread through my muscles until I’m almosttremblingwiththe need to come Ican’tremember the lasttime touchingmyselffeltthis good, and Ispread mylegs wider,thelewd,wetsoundsfillingtheroomasIstarttofuckmyselfinearnest.“God,yes,justlikethat ”
Icanimagine himslammingintome justlike this,as Ithrustthe toyhardagainandagain,pinningme tohis couchas he mercilesslyfillsmewithhiscock.Ipretendthatmyfingersonmyswollenclitarehis,findingtheperfectrhythm,rubbingin firmcirclesasIclencharoundhiscockandgaspthatI’mgoingtocome.
Mybackarchesasthepleasureburstsovermeinawave,seizingthemusclesinmythighsasIpushthedildodeeplyinside ofme,holdingitthereasifit’sDantecomingtoo,breathinginmyearhowgoodIfeelashethrobsinsideofme,thetwoofus comingtogether “Yes,fillmeup fuck, Dante ”
Ispasmaroundthetoy,clitpulsingbeneathmyfingertips,breathless withpleasureas Idraw theorgasmoutas longas I can It’sbeensolongsinceitfeltthisgood,andIslowlythrustthetoy,imaginingthatit’sDanteprolonginghisownpleasure, too gettingthoselastfewstrokesin,myarousalandhiscummingling.
“Fuck. ” Islide the toyout, slowly, shiveringwiththe aftershocks as Isetitaside. Igive myoversensitive clitone last stroke,moaningatthelingeringsensation,andthenliethereforalongminuteasItrytocatchmybreath.
Ihaven’tcomethathardinsuchalongtime.
Slowly,Isitup andthenIlookatmyphone,nexttomeonthebed
There’s anongoingcall. Istare at the screenindawninghorror, frozenfor a moment before Isnatchit, endingthe call abruptly
Ilookatthenumber,prayingthatIdidn’taccidentallycallmybosswhileImasturbated onlytorealizethatit’s somehow worse.Asifthatcouldbepossible.
Idialedthenumbermostrecentlyaddedtomyphone Dante’s number.
ThemanwhosenameIwasjustmoaningamomentagowhileImademyselfcome,imaginingthathewasfuckingme Iforgottodeletehisfuckingnumber.
Itossmyphoneasideasifitburnedme,myfaceheatingwithshameasIburyitinmyhands “Oh, fuck,”Imoanagain thistimeforanentirelydifferentreason.
I’veneverbeensoembarrassedbyanythinginmyentirelife.
“It’s fine,” I tell myself after a long moment, dropping my hands to my lap and trying to shake off the feeling of utter humiliation.“I’llneverseehimagain.Itdoesn’tmatter.” Ihope,witheveryfiberinmybody,thatthat’strue
DANTE
MyphonebuzzesafewminutesafterEmmawalksoutofthefrontdoor Iglancedownatit,findingmyselfhopingthatit’s her.It’sentirelyirrational Icanseethatshedidn’tleaveanything,andthere’snoother reasonfor her tosendmea messagesosoon Ishouldn’treallycareifIhearfromheragainatall But,despitethat,IfeelaflashofdisappointmentwhenIsee Kaitlynn onmyscreeninstead. I’dactuallyforgottenthatIhadadatesetupaftermyappointment if‘date’isthepropertermforhavingagirloverfora couple ofdrinks and casual sex Ithad seemed like a good idea atthe time, butafter the hours ofbeingtattooed, I’mmore inclinedtojusthavethedrinkaloneandgotobed.
Whichissurprising,consideringthestateoffrustratedarousalthatI’vebeeninforallofthosehours. It has nothing to do with Emma ItellmyselfthatfirmlyasItextKaitlynnback,lettingherknowthatI do stillwantherto comeover. If nothing else, she’ll suck my cock, and that’s just what I need to take my mind off of things. ‘Things’beingboth thepaininmybackfromthefreshtattooandthebrunettewhoinkeditonmyskin
IpourmyselfadrinkwhileIwait awhiskeywithgingersyrupandlemon andperchontheedgeofmycouchtosipit. Thestunningvistaofthecityisjustbeyond,shimmeringoutsideoftheglasswindowsasIlookoutoverit I’velivedhereall mylife,andtheviewnevergetsold.Sittingupherelikethis,Ifeellikeakingsurveyinghislands.
Asfar as themafiaworldis concerned,that’s exactlywhattheCampanofamilyhas alwaysbeen.Theproblemis,things are changing And I’d like to move our family into the changing times, not buck against themthe way so many others do Chicago,New York,Boston theyall wanttoclingtothe oldways.Butouthere,onthe westernside ofthe country,we’ve alwaysbeenaboutinnovationandexploration Iwanttofindawaytodothingsdifferently Iwanttolivemy life differently, insofarasthat’spossible.
Forinstance,Imanagedtoavoidanyofthosepeskyarrangedmarriagesthatmafiafamiliesaresofondofwhilemyfather was alive, and now that I’mincharge, I canavoid it permanently. The burdenof carryingona legacyhas always seemed tiresometome.Ifone ofmybrothers wants toprovide anheir tocarryonthe Campanoname,I’ll happilylethimtake over whenI’mgone Theideaofmarriageandchildrenhasheldverylittleappealtome
Ilive ina cityfull ofsome ofthe mostbeautiful womeninthe world, all eager to climb up the social and professional ladder IseenoreasontoshacklemyselfwhenIcouldbeenjoyingit
Thesoundofthedooropeningjoltsmeoutofmythoughts,andasIturn,Iseeoneofthosewomen.KaitlynnBlack nother realname,Idon’tthink,buttheoneshepreferstogobywhileshe’stryingtogetherbigbreak stepsintomypenthouse.She’s entirelydoneup,justasshealwaysis,lookingmoreasifshe’sabouttogooutforanightonthetownthansitandhaveadrink here withme. She’s wearinga bright blue, slinkyminidress that stands out against her silkyplatinumblonde hair, her legs appearingtobeamilelong Hernailsaredone,andherfulllipsareslashedwithadeepred,andshe’sdonesomethingwith hereyemakeuptomakehereyeslookhuge almostanime-like.
She’sdrop-deadgorgeous,supermodelhot oneofthemostbeautifulwomenI’vehadthepleasureoftellingtogetontheir kneesforme.Butforthefirsttime,asIlookather,Idon’tfeeltheinstantarousalthatI’musedto.
“Heythere, Dante.” Kaitlynnsmiles, displayingexpensivelywhite teeth, swayingtowards me. Her voice is a seductive croon, full ofanticipation. We’ve fucked a few times already sexgood enoughthat I’ve wanted her to come back and I knowshe’shopingformore.Notaseriousrelationship,necessarily butformetotakeherplaces,introducehertopeoplethat matter I’marungonaladderforher,andnormallyIdon’treallymindthat,solongasI’mgettingmydickwetontheclimbup Butforsomereason,tonight,itirksme.
Ihavethesudden,overwhelmingurgetotellhertoleave Iwasachingly,painfullyhardearlierwhileEmmawashere,but suddenly,there’snotsomuchasatwitch.It’sasifmycockhasgonetosleep,utterlyuninterestedinthegorgeouswomanwho isstandingtherelookingatmeasifshewantstoeatmeup.
“I’llmakeyouadrink,”Itellher,tryingtocoverformysuddenandconfusinglackofinterest “Sameasalways?” “YouknowwhatIlike,”shepurrs,driftingovertothecouch.“Busynight?”sheteases,drapingherselfartfullyontoit. “Ihadatattooappointment”Ipourvodkaintoaglass,addingasplashofcranberryandatwistoflime Anutterlybanal,
clichedrink,inmyopinion,nothingsophisticatedorinterestingaboutit,andIonceagainwonderwhyit’sirritatingmesomuch tonight.Whyeverything abouthavingKaitlynnhereseemstobegratingonmynerves.
“Ooh!”Shesitsup,interestlightingherface “CanIsee?”Shetiltsherhead,givingmethatseductivesmile “It’sbandaged.”Igivethedrinkaquickstirandbringittoher.“Butyoucangetapeeklater.”
“Mm” She takes the drink, liftingitto her mouth She makes sure Inotice the wayshe purses her lips around the edge, everythingpracticedandpurposefultobeasseductiveaspossible,toturnmeon.Usually,itworkslikeacharm.
Butnottonight
Goddamn it, stop thinking about Emma. IchastisemyselfasIsitdownonthecouch,tryingtofocusonthewomaninfront of me, who is both beautiful and eager. Emma was pissed at me for even trying to give her my number. There wasn’t the slightesthintthatshewasinterested
Whichmeansit’sutterlypatheticthatmythoughtskeepdriftingbacktoherlikethis.
“I had a callback today,” Kaitlynn says, taking another sip of her drink “This soap opera It’s not like a big part or anything,andit’snotreallywhatIwantto do,butIfeellikeitmighttakemesomewhere ”
Inodalong,findingthatI’mhavingahardtimefocusing MythoughtskeepdriftingbacktoEmma,tohoweasyitfelttotalk toherwhileshewasworking,howshehadherowncommandoftheconversation.Everythingshedidwasn’tmeanttopander toorattractme ifanything,itwastheopposite.
LookingatKaitlynn,Ican’thelpbutbestruckbyhowfakeeverythingaboutherseems Notjustherappearanceeither the hairextensionsandInstagram-puffylipsandartificiallylargetits but everything.Herattitude,herlaugh,herfakeenthusiasm aboutapotentialrolethatIknowverywellisn’twhatshereallywants I’dratherhaveheardhertellmethatashappyassheis togetsomething,thebitpartinasoapoperaisn’treallywhatshewashopingfor.I’dratherhavegottenanythingfromherthat seemedgenuine.
Everythingabout Emma was genuine, almost to a fault. She would rather have pissed me off thanpandered to me. She didn’t mind telling me when the conversation went further than she wanted it to go. And everything about her beauty was simple,asifsheneverreallygivesitasecondthought
I’veneverhadagirllikeEmmainmybed.They’veallbeenoneversionofKaitlynnoranother andI’veneverrealized untilthismomentjusthowunsatisfyinglyinauthenticit’sallbeen
Kaitlynfinishesher drink,settingitononeofthemarblecoastersonthecoffeetable.“Youcouldmakemeanother,”she suggests.“Orifyou’dratherIpayattentiontoyouforalittlewhile ”
Her gaze drifts suggestivelyto mylap, and Iknow exactlywhatshe’s suggesting. All Ihave to do is murmur a word of encouragement,andshe’llbeonherkneesinbetweenmylegs,thosemanicuredfingerswrappingaroundmycockassheslips itintothewarmthofhermouth
Ishouldbehard,justatthethought.Butinstead,Ifeelbored.
“Actually ”Ihesitate “I’mreallytired ThetattootookmoreoutofmethanIrealized,Ithink Itmightbebestifyoujust headhome.”
Kaitlynndoesn’thaveanythingresemblingapokerface.Theshockinherexpressionispatentlyobviousasshelooksatme, sittingtherestill asifsheexpectsmetoreconsider Sheclearlycan’tbelievethatI’daskhertoleavewithoutenjoyingwhat she’soffering.
“I’ll call you,” Itell her,as sincerelyas Icanmuster I’mnotentirelysure thatIwill,butIknow it’s whatshe wants to hear.“I’mjusttootiredtobegoodcompanytonight.”
“Ithinkyourcompanyisperfectlyfine”Kaitlynnfluttershereyelashes,leaningforward “Andifyou’retired,Idon’tmind justtakingcareofyou ”
“IthinkI’mjustgoingtoheadtobed.Tosleep,”Iclarify.“Iwouldn’tbemuchfun.” Shehesitates,andforamoment,IthinkI’mgoingtohavetotellhertogetthehellout It’snotmyusualstyle,butIcanfeel mypatiencefraying.BeforeIcanresorttothat,though,shegetsupwithalookofobviousdisappointmentonherface,reaching forherclutch “I’ll seeyoulater,then,”shesays,bitingherlipbeforeturningtoleave
ThereliefIfeelwhenIhearthedoorclosebehindherispalpable.Ifeelalittlebadforit,honestly,butnotenoughtonot begladthatItoldhertogo Ifinishthelastofmydrink,standingupandwincingatthetightnessinmyback Ineedtorinseoff intheshower,andthengoaboutdecidinghowI’mgoingtomakesureIsleeponmystomachtonight.
IcarefullystripoffmyshirtonceI’mupstairs,undoingmybeltas Itoss myphoneonthebed.Thelureoftheshower is soundingbetterandbetter,andIfinishundressingquickly,onthevergeofheadingtothebathroom,whenmyphonesuddenly buzzes.
I let out a sharp breath, almost sure that it’s Kaitlynn again But when I glance at it, ready to ignore the call, I see an unknownnumberinstead.
There’s norational explanationfor the leapofanticipationIfeel as Ipickupthe phone andanswer.I’monthe verge of askingifit’sEmmawhenIhearalow,breathymoan,andIfreezeinplace.
This can’t possibly be
“Fuck ” The moan echoes again, followed by a voice that’s unmistakably Emma’s. My cock, utterly uninterested in Kaitlynn’sflirtationsearlier,stiffenssoquicklythatIfeelbrieflydizzy.
BeforeIcanthinkbetterofit,Iputthecallonspeaker,settingthephonedownonmybed Emmamoansagain,andIhear theslick,wetsoundofwhatisundeniablysomethingbeingpushedinsideofher.
Foranawfulmoment,Ithinkshe’saccidentallycalledmewhileshe’sfuckingsomeoneelse Butthere’snosoundofanyone else,andwhenshemoansagain,Iknowexactlywhat’shappened.
She’saccidentallycalledmewhileshe’sgettingherselfoff
Mycockthrobs,sostiffitnearlyslapsagainstmyabsasitlurcheswitharousal.Iwrapmyhandarounditwithoutasecond thought,grittingmyteethtokeepquietasIslidemyhanddownwards,rubbingmythumbover theswollenhead.I’malready leakingpre-cum,myarousalfromearlierbackfull-force,andallIcanthinkofiswhatEmmamustlooklikerightnow,naked andspreadopenonherbedasshefucksherself.
“Oh, oh god ” She whimpers withpleasure, that wet thrustingmakingme ache witha near-painful need to be the one insideofherrightnow.Myhipsjerkforward,thrustingintomyfistasIlistentohermasturbate,theillicitnessofitonlymaking it all feel so muchmore intense It’s beena while since I’ve needed to jerkoffto satisfymyself there’s always someone willingtocomeoverforarollinthesheetsinstead andIdon’trememberiteverfeelingthisgood.Ittakeseverythinginme nottomoanasIrubmypalmovermyweepingcockhead,knowingifImakeasound,she’llrealizewhatshe’sdone.
Idesperatelywanttohearhercome Iwanttocomewithherwhenshedoes
Areleasethatis,surprisingly,sneakinguponmefarfasterthanIwouldusuallyanticipate.Islidemyhanddowntosqueeze thebaseofmycock,stavingofftheorgasmjustintimetohearEmma’sbreathymoanfilltheroomagain
“More, Dante, please ”
Mycockthrobs and swells, the repeated clenchofmyhand the onlythingthatstops me fromeruptingonthe spotatthe sound ofher moaningmyname. Ittakes me a second to register thatIreallyheard it, thatitwasn’tjusta partofthe fantasy rapidlyspinningitselfinmyhead.
ThatEmma,ontheothersideofthecall,istouchingherselfandfantasizingaboutme Maybetheattractionwasn’tasone-sidedasIfirstbelieveditwas.
Ihesitantlyslidemyhandalongmycockagain,desperateforsensation,myhipsshudderingwiththeurgetopoundintomy fisthardandfast.Icanhearthesoundofherdoingexactlythat,thequick,sloppy,eroticsoundsofhertoybeingthrustintoher againandagain,andIdesperatelywanttomimicit.ButI’msoclosetotheedgethatI’dlosecontrol.
Igraspthefootofthebedwithonehand,leaningforwardasIpumpmycockintomyhand,carefulnottotouchthehead.I imaginethatit’smycockfillingher,makingthoselewdsounds,herwet,heatedfleshwrappedaroundme.Icanimaginehow beautiful shewouldlookunderneathme,her breastswobblingwitheverythrust,her tannedskinflushedwithpleasure,those darkeyeswideandliquidwithdesire.
God, I need to fucking come
I’venevertriedsohardtoholdback.Everymuscleinmybodyisrigid,tensewiththedesperateneedbothforrelief,andto waituntilshereachesherreleaseaswell.
“God, yes, justlike that ” Emma lets outanother pleasured whimper Icanimagine her legs spread wide, takingevery inchofthe fake cockas she fucks herself,imaginingthatit’s mine.She musthave seenmyarousal earlier,mustbe picturing whatIwould looklike, and Iwantto show her Ishudder, knuckles white withhow hard I’mgrippingthe footofthe bed, haltingmythrustsagainasIsqueezemycock.Myballsaretightandaching,andIfumbleformydiscardedshirt,tossingitonto thebedsoIhavesomewheretocome I’msofuckingclose,andit’sallIcandonottobeghertocomeforme,toletherknow thatI’mlistening.
There’snomistakingitforanythingelsewhenshecomes.Shecriesout,thesoundofherpleasurehighandmusical.“Yes, fillmeup, fuck, Dante ”
The sound ofher moaningmyname as she orgasms sends me over the edge instantly. Mycockswells and throbs inmy hand,myfistjerkingalongthelengthofmycockerraticallyasIgivemyselfuptoit,thrustinghardasmycumspurtsoutover theshirtItossedontothebed.IthinkofthethinstripofherflatstomachthatIsawbeneaththeedgeofhertanktop,imaginethat I’mcomingthere instead, markingher withmycum I grit myteethso hard I hear myjaw pop, forcingmyself to come in absolutesilenceasitshootsfrommyswollencockhead.IpictureitonEmma’sbelly,herbreasts,drippingoverherskinasshe whimpersthelastofherpleasureontheothersideofthephone.
Irubmypalmovermytip,squeezingoutthelastdropsofcumjustasIhearthewetsoundofhertoyslidingoutofher,and mycockthrobs again. Ifeel almostdizzywithhow hard Icame, and Ileanforward againstthe bed, myhand still wrapped aroundmysofteninglength
Ialmostreachforthephone.Ialmosttrytotalktoher.ButbeforeIcan,myheadstillswimmingwithpleasure,Ihearthe soundofthecallclickingoff.
Shemusthaverealizedwhatshedid.AndunlessI’mvery,verywrongaboutthesortofwomanthatEmmais,she’snever goingtobeabletofacemeagainnowthatsheknows.
Iletgoofmycock,breathinghard.Thethoughtofthatfeelsunacceptable.Evennow,post-orgasm,inthemomentwhereI usuallywanttogetasfarawayfromwhateverwomanisinmybedaspossible Ican’tstopthinkingabouther. Ineedtoseeheragain AndIthinkIknowexactlyhowtomakethathappen.
