{LILY}
I shouldn't have been nervous. It was just a tattoo. Well, my first tattoo. But the artist had promised that once I got rubbed with a numbing cream, I wouldn't even feel a thing.
But sitting in a waiting room with my ass about to be in full display to the lustful gaze of a total stranger, my stomach was in knots.
The shop smelled of a queer combination of ink and antiseptic and blood and sweat, but it was oddly pleasant. Almost like the smell of sex in a hospital. I tried to listen to the song playing in the background, then I heard the curtain ruffle and he walked in.
Tall. Broad shoulders and chests. And a tight t-shirt that hugged his frame, accentuating the muscles of his arms covered in black and red ink which crawled out from under his cotton sleeves. His dark hair was messy and ruffled, falling across his face in a way that suggested that he had just rolled out of bed after fucking someone senseless.
"Who's getting their ass done today?" he asked calmly, like using a stranger's ass as a canvas for the expression of your art prowess was the most normal thing in the universe to do.
My hand went up before my brain caught up.
He allows his eyes roam over me slowly, like they were peeling the clothes right off my body. My thighs pressed together instinctively.
"Follow me," he said, smirking as if he already knew what kind of mess I would be by the time we finished our session.
I followed him down the dimly lit hall, my
There were posters of skeleton and a fading poster of the iconic X Videos star, Johnny Sins.
"You like him?" he questioned, a mischievous grin dancing on his lips.
I gushed and averted my eyes from his gaze. "He is good at what he does," I said simply.
He chuckled. "I am also good at what I do."
He stopped at a steel door and pressed the doorknob. The next second, we were in an even less bright room. The room suddenly got flooded with light as he flicked the switch. It took a few seconds for my eyes to get used to the brightness and soon I could see the black leather chair in the middle of the room and the tools laid out neatly on a tray. I don't miss the way his eyes flicked to my ass as I stepped coyly inside.
"Alright, firecracker," he said, pulling on gloves with a snap that made my nipples tighten. "Drop 'em. I want to see what I'm working on."
I hesitated. Not because I didn't want the tattoo anymore, but because my pussy was already throbbing just from the sound of his rich voice.
"You shy?" His smirk deepened. "You came here to get your ass tattooed. I'm gonna be looking at your pancakes for the next few hours, so you'd better get used to it."
My hands shook with excitement as I unbuttoned my jeans, pulling them down along with my lace panties until I felt cool air hit my ass.
He stroked his chin and whistled low, not even pretending to be professional. "Fuck," he muttered, his eyes locked on my ass That's...a pretty sight."
Heat surged through me and I climbed onto the chairs, face down, ass up, the leather cold on my abdomen. I could feel my own heartbeat throbbing in my clit, and I prayed he didn't notice.
God, I would die if he saw me dripping just because I heard his voice.
Well, I didn't die, but he noticed.
He knelt behind me, setting up his stencil, but his fingers slightly brushed my inner thighs. It felt like an intentional tease to see how much I needed his touch, how bad I craved his dick in me. I bit my lip to stop the moan from escaping.
"You nervous?" he asked, his breath hot against my skin.
"Y-yeah." There was a tremor in my voice despite my effort to stay cool and keep it steady.
"Don't be." His thumb dragged a little too close to my pussy. "I'll take good care of you."
I almost moaned. He had not even touched me where I needed him most, he was just testing waters and I was already dripping. The machine buzzed to life and I jumped, but he held my ass firmly in place.
"Relax, firecracker," he grunted. "You've got to keep still if you don't want to fuck up the ink."
The word–Fuck–rolled off his tongue as if he meant more than just the tattoo.
He grabbed a tube and squirted the cream onto his palm. With one hand still holding me steady, he rubbed the spot where I wanted the tattoo.
God, my nipple hardened under my bra and my pussy clenched even tighter.
When he started drawing on my ass, I could barely feel it. All I could feel was the way his hand gripped me, spreading me slightly, holding me steady. My pussy clenched helplessly, heat and moisture pooling between my thighs.
Then it happened.
A moan slipped out of my mouth–too loud and too needy.
His head tilted, his eyes flicking at me with a slow knowing grin stretching across his face. "You moaning for the needle, or for my hand on your ass?"
My face burned. "I-I...I didn't..."
A deep rich chuckle escaped his throat. "Sweetheart, don't lie to me. You're wet as fuck; I can see and smell it."
I froze. My pussy throbbed harder at his words.
He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke. "You came for a tattoo, but I think you want more than my needle in you."
My stomach dropped and my pussy gushed at his pretty play with words. I tried to swallow, to hold back the sound that threatened to break free, but it slipped through my throat anyway–half moan, half whimper.
"Thought so," he said, his voice low and cocky. The machine buzzing stopped and he set the machine down. The sudden silence made my pulse roar in my ears. His gloved hand slid over my ass, squeezing it like he owned it. "Tell me the truth. You're soaking my chair right now, aren't you?"
I buried my face in my arms, heat rushing to my cheeks. "No, I...I didn't."
"Don't lie to me, sweetheart." His voice turned darker and predatory now. He pressed two fingers along the inside of my thigh, pushing closer and closer until he dragged them right along the wet slit of my pussy.
"Damn," he groaned almost like it was him who was touched. He wet his lips with his tongue and his throat bobbed with excitement. Dripping. Just from me putting my hands on you."
"Please." The word slipped past my lips before I could stop it.
"Please, what?" He circled my clit through the thin layer of wetness, not touching it directly, teasing me until my legs shook. "You want me to stop? Or do you want to cum all over my chair?"
I could barely breathe, my voice coming out in a shaky breath. "Make me."
That was all he needed. His gloves snapped off hit the floor, and the next second, his mouth was all over me. He spread me open with both hands and licked a slow stripe from my drilling entrance all the up to my clit, groaning into me like he had been craving the taste of my pussy all his life.
"Holy fuck," I moaned, my fingers gripping the sides of the chair so hard my knuckles turned white.
"Sweetest pussy I've ever tasted," he grunted, his tongue flicking over my clit before he sucked it into his mouth, giving it a small bite.
I moaned, bucking under him, but his strong arms held me firmly in place, one arm wrapped around my hips to keep me still while his mouth hungrily devoured me. His tongue slid inside me, curling deep, then he pulled back to lap up the mess I was making, like he didn't want to waste a single drop of the sweetness.
The sounds were insane–his tongue slurping, my pussy squelching and the low groan in his throat every time a moan slipped out of my mouth.
"Oh, my God," I panted as the pleasure began to build inside me, threatening to push me to an early climax.
"Come," he ordered, his voice rough, before sucking even harder at my clit.
My eyes rolled back in my head and my vision went white. My whole body throbbed as the orgasm rippled through me, my pussy and clit spasming against the rough edges of his tongue. I screamed and pushed my head into he leather to muffle any more cry as wave after wave crashed through me.
He didn't stop. He licked me through it, slow and relentless, dragging it out until I was sobbing from how good it made me feel, my thighs spasming.
When I finally collapsed, breathless and wrecked, he pulled back, his lips and chin shiny and dripping with my cum. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, grinning at me like the cockiest bastard alive.
"You taste like fucking heaven," he said, his voice rough. His eyes were filled with a predatory gaze, fixed on me like I was the only piece of meat he wanted to eat over and over, until the end of his sinful life.
He licked his lips, slurping at the remains of my orgasm, before pressing his fingers to my pussy again without warning.
I yelled, jerking forward, but he shoved me back down. "Relax, firecracker," he rasped. "I'm just getting you ready for my cock."
My head spun. He was going to fuck me.
And God help me–I wanted it more than anything else.