Chapter 16: Caught red handed

Rick’s POV

God, her body is perfect.

Looking down at her, my trousers feel suffocatingly tight, my dick straining against the denim until it aches. I can’t stop my mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t go—wondering how those soft, pink nipples would taste in my mouth, imagining them hardening into thick, beaded perfection against my tongue.

Towering over her, I force my hands to stay steady as I prepare the equipment. I need to warn her. I need to say anything just to break the heavy silence before I lose my mind.

"I should warn you about the pain," I rumble, my voice entirely too rough. I force my eyes away from the bare, tempting curves of her chest and lock them straight onto her baby blue eyes. "The sternum is a sensitive spot. I’m going to need you to stay absolutely still for me."

"Yeah, I heard about the pain," she whispers, her gaze unblinking. "But I trust you'll take care of me."

"Sure."

That is all I can manage to get out without my voice breaking.

I snap my black latex gloves on, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and step into her space. The second my gloved fingers make contact with the soft skin right under her breast, I feel her sharply suck her breath in. A dark, possessive thrill shoots straight through my gut.

Good. At least I'm not the only one going crazy with need in this room.

For the next hour, neither of us speaks. The only sound is the low, buzzing hum of the needle and the sharp scent of green soap. I steal glances at her face whenever I can, trying my absolute best to focus on tracing the most perfect, sexy little butterfly onto her skin.

As the minutes tick by, Samantha’s breathing slows down. Her long lashes flutter shut, and her head tilts slightly to the side. She looks completely relaxed, enduring the sting of the needle with a quiet, soft calmness.

How can she be this calm when my hands are working around one of the most sensitive, intoxicating parts of her body?

Moments later, the machine clicks off. I wipe down the fresh ink, my chest heaving. It’s done. She is still lying there with her eyes closed, completely still, looking like a literal angel under the harsh studio lights.

Slowly, deliberately, I peel the leather gloves off my hands and toss them onto the tray. Without the barrier of the work, I’m left totally defenseless against the sight of her. I stare at the perfection of her face, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, her pale, milky skin. Her nipples have been hard from the start to the finish, and Lord help me, I want a taste. Just a second.

Driven by pure, unadulterated instinct, I lean over the table. I lower myself over her body, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped animal.

Rick, what the fuck are you doing? a voice screams in my head.

But I can't stop. I'm completely hypnotized. My gaze drops to the fresh ink under her breast, then travels helplessly up to her rigid, pink nipples. I am inches away from her now, close enough that my heavy, ragged breaths are fanning across her bared chest, making her skin goosebump.

I am completely unraveled, staring at her like a starving man staring at a feast.

Right then, just as I’m hovering right in her personal space, completely caught up in my own twisted longing, her baby blue eyes snap wide open.

She wasn't asleep. She was awake the whole time.

I freeze in my tracks, caught completely red-handed.

Samantha doesn't flinch. She doesn't pull the dress up to cover herself. She just stares straight up into my panicked gaze, her eyes dark, intense, and utterly devastating as she throws my own restraint right back in my face.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to go for what you clearly want?”

Damn!