Je Suis a Toi (Monsters in the Dark #3.5)(23)

Her eyebrows rose. “Wait. You’re going to tattoo me?”

I grinned. She wasn’t averse to the idea of needles and forever-after ink. Only focusing on the fact that I would be the one inscribing her body.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

I waited, inspecting every fleeting thought on her face.

For a second, she hesitated. “Umm…”

My back whiplashed straight. “Umm?”

Tess’s eyes grew wider. “Q…I love you, but tattooing me…that’s something I have to think about.” Her throat tilted, exposing a little of her fire-seared brand beneath her collar. “Isn’t this enough?”

I shook my head. “Nothing will ever be enough. Not now that you’ve taken my last name or wear my mark or sleep beside me every damn night. I’m a f*cking insecure bastard when it comes to you, Tess. And because I know I’m asking a lot, I’ll even let you go first.”

“Me?” she squeaked. “You want me to tattoo you? Q, I can draw sharp lines and copy a building, but I’ve never been good at landscape, portrait, or anything other than sterile architecture.”

“Good to know. But I’m not asking you to draw on me. I’m asking you to write on me.”

“You obviously haven’t seen my handwriting.”

“As long as it’s legible, I don’t give a f*ck.” I pointed at my knuckles. “You can write wherever you want, but I suggest somewhere I can see every day.”

Tess’s gaze fell to my offered limb. “You want me to write on the back of your hand?” She froze. “You’re insane. I’m not coming anywhere near you with something so permanent.”

“Not only will it be permanent, but I also requested the darkest ink available. I want it visible. I want it thick and seen.”

“It means that much to you?”

“You know me well enough that you don’t need an answer to that.”

Her reluctance faded as she stared into my eyes. Love replaced reluctance. Her hurry to come tempered. “In that case, I don’t want to go first. Go ahead.”

“You’re not going to ask where I’m going to tattoo you?”

Her eyes dropped to my t-shirt, no doubt seeing my sparrow and storm design beneath the material. “If it’s half as beautiful as your art, I don’t care.”

“I’m not an artist, Tess.”

“You are to me.”

Not replying, I brought her left hand upward and inserted her ring finger into my mouth.

Her eyes snapped closed as her body leapt on the sheets. The magic wand rested unalive between her spread and bound thighs. “God, Q. You can’t do that if you don’t want me to come.”

My tongue swirled around her finger, tasting salt and orchid-frost that was a scent uniquely Tess. “I can’t?” My teeth nipped her fingertip. “Why not? Could you come like this with nothing else?” Keeping her finger in my mouth, I dropped my free hand and cupped her brashly between her legs. “Or do you need this to be f*cked in order to release?”

Her body bucked against me. Her finger hooking inside my mouth as if she could wrench me closer and finish the task I’d started.

My teeth tightened around her wedding ring and diamonds, slowly removing them over her knuckle, thanks to the wetness of my tongue.

She was too focused on my hand on her cunt to pay attention.

Yanking her finger from my mouth and my touch from her *, I sat back and spat her rings into my palm. “There…we won’t need those for a while.”

Tess blinked. “What? Why?” Panic flared. “Don’t you want to be married any—”

I slapped a hand over her lips. “Quiet.”

Questions burned on her face as I kept her silent. My cock throbbed as thick desire threaded through my blood. Having her stare at me with such longing and passion almost destroyed my plans, demanding I slide inside her.

“Yes, I want to remain married, esclave.” Letting her mouth go, I murmured, “But rings can come off…just like I’ve shown.”

Her cheeks blanched. “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Her eyes flashed with small threat of rivalry. She didn’t say a word as I ripped open an antiseptic wipe and smeared it over her ring finger, making sure to wash away my saliva.

Tossing away the finished rag, I grabbed the surgical needle and tore open its sterilized packaging before inserting it into the tattoo gun as I’d been shown. Louis had given me the supplies when I’d popped in to see him last month to update a few feathers on my chest. He’d worked on my torso piece for months. Multiple visits. Long, painful hours while he engraved and coloured my skin with the redemption of my life. Every pinprick of the needle gave me value for the women I'd rescued, fixating my anger onto the f*cking cocksuckers who’d stolen them.

Louis had become a friend even though we never spoke about anything beyond trivial things.

Tess whispered, “The last time I was tattooed, I made the choice to add 58 to my wrist. The first time, the trafficker took away my choice with a barcode, and now, you’re going to make that choice on your own.”

I froze.

Shit, I hadn’t thought of it that way. I hadn’t asked her permission. Stupidly, I thought she’d find the notion romantic. She’d let me brand her, after all. This was nothing compared to that.