Beneath This Ink (Page 60)

“You hated me.”

“I never hated you. Just didn’t want to want you so damn bad. And now I don’t care—because you’re mine.”

She buried a hand in my hair and pulled my mouth to hers. Her other hand found its way to my belt as she fumbled it open and worked the button and zipper. When her soft hand closed around my cock, I groaned into her mouth and pulled back. Even though I didn’t want her to let go of my dick, I had to make her. Otherwise I’d be way too eager when I got inside her.

“Slow down, baby. Gotta get you ready first.” I lowered my mouth back to her nipples and let my hand skim down her belly to her landing strip.

“Are you wet for me, princess?”

Her legs shifted slightly as she opened to me. “Find out for yourself.”

My fingers slid lower, parting her, desperate to find her heat. And fuck. She was soaked. My cock jerked as I groaned.

“So fucking wet.”

“Because of you.”

I dropped to my knees on the floor, aware that my pants were falling, but not caring. The only thing I wanted in that moment was my mouth on her pussy as she came against my tongue.

Shoving one arm of the chair down, I turned her and pushed her thighs further apart. “What—”

She went silent when my tongue found her pussy, and I plunged two fingers inside her. Fucking her relentlessly, I teased and sucked on her clit until I felt the fluttering pulses of her inner muscles. I crooked my fingers and stroked her G-spot.

She detonated.

“Con!”

I loved hearing my name on her lips almost as much as I loved the taste of her on my tongue.

She was it. The one. I was done for.

When I pulled my face away and took in her dazed look of pleasure, I knew I wanted to see it every day for the rest of my life. I palmed my cock. I wanted nothing between us.

I lifted her chin and asked, “You good with going bare again? Because I can get a condom.”

“No. Don’t. I want this.” Her arms snaked around me, and she pulled me closer. “Just you. Nothing else.”

So I obliged, fitting my cock against her entrance and slamming home.

“It’s beautiful. I… I love it.”

I stared down at the tattoo on my hip. It was beautiful, and I did love it. And not just because the fleur de lis and crown were intricately drawn and amazing. I loved it because Con had been the one to do it. Women everywhere would raise their pitchforks if they knew I considered it a sort of brand. No one could ever look at my naked body again and not see the mark that Con had left on me.

But the black ink on my skin was nothing compared to the mark he’d left on my heart.

Hell, he owned my heart.

I still didn’t entirely understand how we’d gotten here, but I was done questioning it. I wanted Con, and I wasn’t going to let him go.

My worries about how Archer and my father would each take the news faded away when Con picked me up off the chair—which he’d sanitized after our unorthodox use of it—and carried me up the stairs to his bed.

“You have anywhere to be in the morning?”

I mentally paged through my calendar. “Brunch at eleven with Elle. We try to do it every Sunday.”

“Still attached at the hip like you were in school?”

I smiled. “Not attached at the hip, per se. But she’s still my best friend. We work together.”

“I always liked her. She seemed a little more wild and crazy than the rest of you.”

“Are you telling me you had a crush on my best friend?”

Con grinned. “Jealous, princess?”

“What do you think?”

Con slid into bed and pulled me flush against him, so my cheek was resting on his chest. “No reason to be. I always thought she’d be a good friend to have on your side. Can’t say I ever stopped thinking about you long enough to think much else about her.”

“Oh.”

Con’s stubbled jaw lowered as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I spent way more time being jealous over you and Duchesne. Hated him because of how close you were.”

I shifted and wished there was enough light in the room to read his expression. “Even though you know we’ve never been anything more than friends?”

“I didn’t know that then. Not sure I would’ve believed it.”

“But you believe it now?”

“Yeah. And not just because you’re in my bed and not his. Besides, I’ve seen firsthand how hung up he is on Charlie.”

“I worry about that.” And I did. Simon was head over heels, and I still wondered what he really knew about Con’s receptionist. She was almost a female version of him. All tattoos and mystery.

“Don’t borrow trouble. No point. They’re adults, and they’ll fumble their way through it themselves.”

Another question occurred to me. “Is that really why you’ve always hated Simon? Because of me?”

I could feel Con’s heart thumping against my palm. He didn’t answer for several beats.

“It’s not hard to hate someone who has everything you’ve ever wanted. Just so happened Duchesne was that guy for me. I was a foster kid, a charity case, and he was the son of a fucking congressman. He had parents who thought the sun shined out of his ass, and I had a mom who ran off and a dad who left too many bruises to cover when family services came around.”

My heart broke for the boy who’d felt so unloved and unwanted. But it explained a lot about Con.

“But what about the Leahys?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure they thought the sun shined out of your ass, too.”