Dark Ink Tattoo: Episode 4 by Cassie Alexander

Author:Cassie Alexander [Alexander, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Argus Industrial
Published: 2016-08-15T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 4

There was pizza, there were naps, there were movies, and there was snuggling, and anything else we could do short of needing condoms we did – she reached over and jacked me off because she could, and I loved the hot feel of her skin on mine, and the way my cum looked against her hand. And then I took one of those rubber sword-looking things out and fucked her while she played with herself, just to watch her come, to hear her voice rise and watch her body shake.

But at ten PM Thea looked at the clock on her phone, every bit a Cinderella. “I’m sorry Jack, but –“

“I know,” I said softly. I’d looked at my phone an hour ago, and had been feeling the minutes count down since.

She rolled out of bed and stood. “This has been really amazing. But I’ve gotta shower and –“

“I’ll call a cab.”

“Good,” she said, and gave me an apologetic smile.

For all the fucking we’d done, there was a distance between us now – almost the same as the distance between us in high school. She had her place, here, and I had mine, back in Texas. The past sixteen hours belonged to an alternate reality.

“Like, really amazing,” she said, nodding, and then danced over to me to lean up and peck my cheek in a chaste kiss.

“Agreed,” I said with a rueful smile, watching her walk through her bathroom door. She didn’t even bother to close it as she stepped into her shower. Between the steam and the door’s crinkled safety glass she probably couldn’t see me, but she knew that I was there.

“It’s okay if you have to pee, just don’t flush –“ she shouted, from the other side of the shower.

Her bathroom counter was laced with feminine things, perfumes and potions, a make-up kit like an arsenal, with just as many colors as I had at my tattoo station back home. I lifted a necklace out of a heart shaped bowl -- it was a fat emerald circled by diamonds.

Somewhere there was an admirer who could give her that. How on earth could I compare? I watched her blurry body moving behind the door, rubbing and rinsing me away and -- I slid open the shower door and stepped in.

“Jack!” she protested, as cold air swirled in with me. She was soaking wet, rivulets of water streaming down her face, her hair in wet blonde tassels – and she looked just like the girl I’d rescued from her shattered car. I put my hand out to touch her cheek and stroked my thumb across the small scar she had from the accident, right above her cheekbone. Without thinking, she leaned into it, like a cat.

“Are you clean yet?” I asked her.

Her eyes flashed up at me. “Not hardly.”

“Then hand me the soap.”

I rolled the soap between my hands until they were full of lather, and then soaped up every beautiful piece of her, washing all evidence of me away.

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