Full Contact (Redemption #3)(57)

“We call clients who don’t talk cadavers.”

“Can’t talk.” Ray’s voice is husky and low. “It’s taking all my energy not to rip off your clothes and f*ck you till you scream.”

“Don’t hold back.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “Tell me what you really want to do.” I wiggle on top of him. He is indeed harder than when I started. I wiggle again. Ray groans.

“Stop. I’m barely hanging on.”

“This was your idea.” I look up and grin. “And FYI, I’m going to be at least another hour.”

He grits his teeth and nods. “Go for it, but don’t move.”

But it is almost impossible not to move. Inking skin is, by its nature, an intimate experience, but with Ray it goes beyond intimate into the divine. In this position, with one hand braced on his chest, I can feel every beat of his heart, hear every rasp of his breath, soak in his warmth as I inhale the scent of fresh ink and the musk of Ray’s skin.

“Sia.” My name is a tortured groan on his lips, and when I look up, I see both pain and pleasure etched across his face.

“You need a moment?”

He shakes his head and strokes his hand through my hair, a gentle, caressing gesture that turns my body liquid.

“If it hurts…” My words trail off when he tightens his hand in my hair.

“Like to hurt. Need to hurt. But when you’re doing the hurting…” His voice breaks. “Hard to stay in control. Just…finish it.”

So I do. I pour my soul into his tat, sweeping the wolf down his shoulder and over his pec. Although I usually prefer color to semi-tribals like this one, I think it is one of the best tats I have ever done. I show Ray in the mirror and he nods his approval. “Fucking awesome.”

After I’ve bandaged the tat, I sit back and give him a questioning glance. He has been so quiet, his body so tense… “You okay?”

He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip and groans. Taking a hint, I draw his thumb into mouth, wrap my lips around it, and suck, tasting Ray on my tongue.

“Christ. I can’t…” He eases me off his lap and then slides out of the chair, his body tense, quivering, as if he’s fighting for control. A tiny shiver winds its way down my spine when I glance at his face. It’s a cold, hard mask of concentration without the usual warmth I see when we’re together.

“Ray?”

He seats himself on my artist’s chair and grabs my hips, pulling me until I’m standing between his spread legs. Then he pulls me down, urging me lower until I’m kneeling in front of him.

“Suck me, beautiful girl. Show me what else those sweet lips can do.”

Oh God. That voice. Commanding. Sexy. Utterly dominant. My body tightens, need curling deep in my core.

Ray exhales when I help him ease his pants over his hips. His erection springs free, bobbing gently in my direction, and I lean forward and take a little lick.

He grips my hair, tilting my head back, and growls. “Don’t play.”

“Okay,” I whisper, torn between excitement and a niggle of concern over my ability to handle him taking so much control.

Ray wraps his hand around mine, curving us both over his thick shaft, and strokes hard. The feel of him hot and throbbing in my palm sends spasms through my groin.

“Harder.” He barks his command as he squeezes my hand around his shaft, his tone so gruff and unfamiliar my heart skips a little beat. Is this the dark side of him he didn’t want me to see? The Ray who likes pain?

We stroke him together until his cock is rock hard, and then Ray releases my hand and I lean forward and take him into my mouth, my tongue stroking up and down his length, praying my inexperience doesn’t show. But whatever I’m doing must be right because he grips my hair and arches into me.

“That’s it. Take it all.”

His words make my clit tingle, and I take him deep, my cheeks sucking inward as I increase the pressure. Oh God. It’s so deliciously, illicitly dirty to be kneeling at Ray’s feet in the studio with his cock in my mouth, the wooden floor hard beneath my knees. How many times did I fantasize about doing something like this, never imagining for a second it would ever come true?

Wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft, I work it in counterpoint to my mouth. Ray’s breathing turns ragged and his erection thickens, becoming impossibly hard. I inhale his scent of soap and musky male, and try to focus on the slide of my lips over his smooth skin and not the ache at the juncture of my thighs.

“Touch yourself.” His rasped command is almost a relief. Without hesitation, I slide my hand between my legs and toy with my piercing.

“Fuck.” He wraps his hand around mine and squeezes, my grip on his cock at least twice as tight as before. Shocked at how hard he wants to be touched, I look up at him. Ray stares down at me, his fingers still in my hair. My breath catches at the raw hunger in his eyes—and something else, hiding in the shadows, feeding on his pain.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Heat rushes between my legs, and I let out a moan as my clit pulses and throbs. God, I could come just from the filthy things he says.

“You like that.” He tugs my head back, forcing me to look up at him.

“Yes.”

“Good. ’Cause I’m gonna hold you still and f*ck your pretty mouth, and you’re gonna dig your little claws into my thighs as hard as you can.”