Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed Read online

  “I’m glad, because this is what you’re getting.” I toss the book on the floor then look her over. “Just not sure where yet. Turn for me.”

  She slides off the table as I pull my feet down. I push my chair back and look over her rocking body.

  “Not the shoulder or neck.”

  She looks over her shoulder at me. “Somewhere private?”

  I reach forward and take her hips. “Bend.”

  “Not a tramp stamp either.”

  I nod. “Definitely not.”

  I turn her body slightly to the side. “Not here. Turn again.”

  She does.

  I let go of her then hold my hands out in frame formation and look through it. Middle lower back. I take the back of my fingertips and run them over the area. “Here.”

  “That big?”

  “Would you rather have an eight-by-ten or a wallet-sized photo hanging on your wall?”

  She looks down. “More a five-by-seven, don’t you think?”

  I lean back and cross my arms. “Might not be the best person to ask that.” I wave my hand in front of me. “I like my art visible.”

  “I’d like mine private.”

  “Seven by nine?” I push.

  She smiles and shrugs.

  “So, basically, you’ll show it off at the beach and when you’re …” I stop when she turns and looks down my body. “You okay?”

  “I’d like some water.”

  “Thirsty?”

  She nods and looks back up into my eyes.

  Welcome back, lust. I groan to myself.

  I wink then turn and walk out of the room. I know her eyes are still on me.

  * * *

  She’s lying on her belly and squirming so much that I’m stopping every couple of minutes. It’s all good, though; the view is amazing. She’s a perfect canvas. Her ass is in my face so when I’m not working on her, I’m sizing her up. It’s round, hard, flawless skin, and each cheek is a perfect handful.

  “You want me to change things up? Leave out some detail?”

  “Fuck no,” she groans. “I’d never come back.”

  I chuckle, almost done. “Good, because I wouldn’t have anyway.”

  “I can’t believe people do this all the time.”

  “It can be addicting.”

  “Says who?” She cringes when I turn my machine back on.

  “Millions of people.”

  “I’m aware. But at this moment …” She pauses when I begin again. “Fuck me.”

  “We’ll never get to that if you don’t lie still.”

  She looks back at me, smiling and blushing. “You better be good at what you do.”

  “Sweets”—I wink—“I don’t do anything half-assed.”

  She props herself up on her elbows and arches her back so I have to stop.

  I place my palm between her shoulder blades. “Almost there.”

  “That’s what you said like …” She pauses to think.

  I fill in the blank, “Two minutes ago.”

  “I better get a sticker or a sucker when this is over. A treat.” She lies down and looks back at me. “Finish me off.”

  “I plan on it.”

  She lowers her head so her dark chocolate tresses fall in her face, but I see her smirk, her nose crinkling, and her nibbling on her lower lip.

  She is … me. That’s all I have to ink to finish the art.

  “Three words, and then we’ll see what you’ve got.”

  Five

  The Last D

  Bella

  Three and a half hours ago, I stood outside of Body Art NYC with my three roommates on the eve of our graduation.

  “We’re really going to do this?” Alice, who looks like a human version of Alice in Wonderland asked, giving them time to contemplate what they had less time to ponder than me. I’d already decided.

  I’d be getting my first and maybe last tattoo.

  “Fuck yes, we are,” Lily said through a hiccup.

  We had just left a private rooftop party hosted by a fellow graduate, promising to return after checking the last D off my list of Dad’s don’ts.

  Victoria looked at me. “If we aren’t going in, then we need to get back to The Empire. I have a very handsome young man waiting to buy me a drink.”

  “Gordon’s roommate.” Alice nodded then shook her head like she was trying to understand why Victoria would even consider sleeping with her ex-boyfriend’s roommate.

  She shrugged. “He’s hot.”

  Lily grinned. “He’s hung, too.”

  “Aw, fuck no!” Victoria cried out. “You did not—”

  Lily held up a finger. “Just once.”

  “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me?” Victoria palmed her face then looked at me. “I need to get back.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Alice offered all too easily then looked at me. “If you don’t mind?”

  Lily took that opportunity to run to the nearest trash can and throw up.

  “I don’t mind as long as you take her, too.”

  “But—”

  I cut Alice off, “I need to do this.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Lily offered, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

  “You’ll get us kicked out. Go.”

  “No woman is left behind!” Lily threw a fist in the air then stumbled.

  “I’ll take an Uber. Just go.”

  As soon as they were off, I turned to walk into the building when the neon light turned off.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I pushed the door open anyway.

  “We’re closing up,” a man probably my father’s age said.

  “But I—”

  “We open tomorrow at eleven.” He smiled.

  “Sisco,” I heard a man with a deep voice say, “I can take this one.”

  The man, whose name was Sisco, lips slowly turn up in the corners, and then he looked back at me. “You got cash?”

  “I do.” I smiled, excited that I was finally, at twenty-three years old, going to get my first and maybe last tattoo.

  He looked back toward the room behind the partition. “She’s all yours.”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  “Lock up and come meet me at the gym when you’re done.”

  “Will do.”

  When Sisco walked past me, I saw a man walk around the frosted glass partition and—

  “You ready?”

  OhmyGod, I thought as I looked him over. Six foot plus of bulging muscles covered in more ink than I think I’d ever seen on one person. All black, too, my favorite. And as amazing as all that was, the man’s face was chiseled perfection, with soul-capturing, light brown, no hazel eyes, that seemed to be getting darker by the minute. Medium-sized diamond studs in his ears, and a small nose ring is in his left nostril.

  He looked me up and down. “How deep you want it?”

  My jaw dropped, and he pursed his lips. Then he moved them from left to right and back again, trying not to smile, but those stunning eyes were doing just that as he reached out a finger and lifted my chin.

  My mouth went dry, my heart was racing, and no words came out. I knew immediately that I was in way over my head but, my God, what a way to end my college career.

  * * *

  And now, I’m lying nearly bare-assed in an unfamiliar yet very familiar environment, trying my best not to drool over the most amazing piece of male perfection that I have ever seen while he permanently marks me.

  So hot.

  The pain is nearly unbearable, if not for the way he seems to know when I’ve had enough, or the way he makes small talk with double entendres.

  Sexy as hell double entendres.

  When he reaches across the space to pull a wheeled silver tray with the salve and dressing for my tattoo—my tattoo!—I can’t help grinning.

  I look over my shoulder at him to see his eyes crinkle in a small smile as he begins to tell me about aftercare.

  “You’ll need to keep
this covered …”

  The rest of his words fall on deaf ears as I watch him look over my body like he wants to undress the rest as he dresses the art. When he’s finished, he stands.

  I watch him, unmoving, as he kicks the wheeled stool aside and takes the one step it takes him to get to the end of the table. Then he grips my hips and pulls me toward him slowly. Looking back at him, I know my own eyes mirror his—heat to heat, lust to lust.

  When my feet hit the floor, he kicks them to the sides, spreading my legs wider. “Never fucked in a studio.” His eyes leave mine as he scans my body. “You want it right here, right now?”

  I raise an eyebrow and only half-joke, “Was the tattoo foreplay or do you have more in you than that?”

  His lips quirk upward. “My impulse control is shit, sweets. Got me in trouble back in the day. So, you want my tongue between your thighs, I suggest you get naked.”

  “What?” I gasp.

  “Naked is when there is nothing between my skin and yours.” He narrows his eyes then smirks when he realizes what his words may have led me to believe. He waves his hand up and down his body then points to his face. “Really?”

  I stand and pull my tee-shirt over my head, rolling my eyes at myself. “Right.”

  His eyes are no longer twinkling mischief as he pulls his white V-neck over his head with one hand. They are nearly black and completely liquid … just like my panties.

  “Your tits are …” He swipes his tongue over his full lips as he looks at me like I’ve seen …

  Oh, hell no, I scold myself. It’s bad enough you’re fucking in a tattoo shop; there is no room for Jase or Jesus up in this place.

  “Lose the panties, sweets,” he says, snapping me out of my disgusting thought process.

  “Lose the pants, gorgeous,” I counter as I slip my thumbs under my waistband.

  He cocks his head to the side and looks almost … shocked.

  “You are—”

  He narrows his eyes as he pulls a condom out of his pocket, holds it to his beautiful mouth, and says, “Drop ’em.”

  As he tears open the foiled packet with his teeth, I narrow my eyes. “You show me yours, I’ll show you—” I gasp when he drops his pants. “You’re—”

  “You lick it, it’s yours.”

  My mouth goes dry immediately.

  “But I’d love to go first.”

  I can’t look away. It’s so … beautiful. Thick and getting thicker every second. Long … He’s a shower and a grower. Two curved barbells —a double dydoe— adorn the crown of his cock.

  “Sweets.” His chest rumbles as he strokes down his cock then tugs on the silver balls on one side of his piercings.

  I feel my knees wobble as I bend down, still eyeing his alluring manhood while pushing down my underwear.

  “Damn,” he hisses as he looks me over while sheathing himself.

  “Damn,” I mimic as I look him over too.

  One step, his cock nudges my belly as he wraps his hand around the back of my neck. Our bodies fuse together as he crushes his lips against mine. Then he moves his hand to the base of my head as he licks his hot, wet tongue inside my mouth.

  He tastes of mint and a hint of cigarette smoke. Never having kissed a smoker, it shocks me that I enjoy kissing… or, should I say, being kissed by one. I feel like I’m barely a part of this, like I’m there for his use in a way that’s … so damn amazing.

  With his free hand, he takes mine from his hard chest and wraps it around his cock. I stroke him, and he groans into my mouth.

  He slides his fingers down my belly and takes no time in pushing one inside of me as he growls against my lips. Then he moves his finger in and out of me slowly, and my head falls back with each tap to that spot no other man has found, even when given instruction.

  He removes his hand from the back of my head as he slides his lips down my neck. Adding another finger, his mouth on my breast, my nails in his shoulders, my hips rotating, thrusting …

  “Oh my God.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he tugs on my nipple then sucks harshly. Releasing it with a pop, he looks up at me. “You lean back, you’ll fuck up the art.” Standing to his full height, he pulls his fingers out of me then turns me so my back is to him.

  With his hand between my shoulder blades, I look back at him.

  His demanding eyes penetrate me as he searches mine. “Gonna do you doggy, so your wrapping stays put.”

  Gonna do you doggy? A part of me feels like I should take a little offense to this. Oddly, no part of me actually does.

  His eyes are now gone from mine as he looks over my naked body bent over the table. When they land on the art, as he calls it, his eyes flare then narrow, his jaw tightens and twitches as he curses, “Fuck.”

  “Fucking is when your dick is inside of me, and there’s nothing between—”

  My breath leaves my body as he slams into me.

  He stills and hisses between clenched teeth, “I know what fucking is. Your pussy’s so tight I’m thinking you’re about to find out the true definition for the first time.”

  His magic fingers did nothing to prepare me. I’m painfully stretched but uncaring.

  I narrow my eyes and attempt to keep my voice as even as I can when I challenge, “Why don’t you get to it then?”

  His smirk disappears. His eyes flash from mischief to lust, hazel to black. With his large inked hands, he grips my hips as I grip the edge of the table, preparing myself.

  He pulls out slightly and slowly. Then, so, so slowly, he pushes in, and I swear his dick nudges my esophagus. His jaw tightens along with my insides as his eyes penetrate me as deeply as his cock.

  “You gonna move, or should I take over?”

  “You’re gonna regret that question.”

  “You afraid you’re going to bust a nut—”

  He moves one hand from my hip and snakes it around my hair. He pulls me back and kisses me harshly, deeply. As I attempt to take over, he pulls away, his eyes menacing as he releases my hair. Then he swiftly moves his hand to my tit, squeezes it, and pinches my nipple.

  It hurts, but fuck if it doesn’t feel good, too.

  “I have places to go, so you better …” I stop when he removes his other hand from my hip and lifts my leg up, placing my knee on the table.

  “You canceled your plans when you got naked with me.”

  I narrow my eyes, open my mouth, and then … then he fucks me.

  “Fuck!” I cry out.

  Through his clenched teeth, he hisses, “That’s right, sweets; this is fucking.”

  He fucks me hard, deep…so good. He plays with my tits and occasionally kisses me so hard I don’t realize he’s no longer kissing me when he does stop.

  I cry out pleasures I’ve never cried before as he continues fucking me through one orgasm and into the next while I hang on to the table for dear life.

  My body is no longer mine. It’s completely and totally controlled by him as I reach places never reached before.

  “Knees, sweets,” he demands as he turns me around, fingers finding me again, not one, not two, but three as he kisses me unforgivingly again before pulling away and dragging his fingers from deep inside me to push down on my shoulder.

  I sink willingly. If not, my legs would have given out at any moment without his controlling —puppeteering— fingers holding me up.

  He pulls off the condom while hooking two fingers in my already gaping mouth and pulling me forward. “Put those lips I bruised around my cock, sweets.”

  I open wide, so fucking wide, and then he removes his fingers from my mouth to cup the back of my head as he fucks my face.

  He steps back, forcing me to follow him as he turns our bodies so he can sit on the table. I grip the base of him as he leans back, watching me now as I suck the saliva off his cock. His chest heaves, and his lips part slightly, his teeth still together.

  “You better stop.”

  Feeling some sense of control now, I suck harder
and pump faster as I watch him begin to lose it.

  I give him a slow wink, and his brow rises.

  Reaching down, he lifts me up as I bite down on him.

  A deep rumble leaves his chest. “Good way to chip a tooth.” He pulls me up as he leans back. “On my fucking face, sweet treat.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to finish him off. He grips my hips and pulls me up.

  I turn my body so that I can taste his soft, steel-like skin in my mouth as he pulls my soaked center onto his face and licks me savagely.

  Against me, he groans, “Last warning.”

  I don’t stop until I’m sure his face is covered with my juices, and my mouth is full of his cum.

  Still swallowing … trying to catch my breath and slow my heartbeat, I swing my leg over and dismount the face of a … fucking man … and try my best to stop my legs from shaking while I stand on the floor.

  Awkward is never a feeling I’ve had after sex, but then again, I’ve never actually had sex with a person that I met just four hours ago.

  Unsatisfied and questioning why I bothered getting naked for maybe ten minutes, if I was lucky, to race to the finish, a race I always lost. That was sex … until twenty minutes ago.

  As I begin to squat down to grab my haphazardly discarded clothing, a hand on my hip stops me. I begin to look back when I feel a warm cloth between my legs. I didn’t even hear the water run.

  “I’d offer you a shower, but …” He leaves it hanging as he wipes up one thigh then the next before beginning to wipe my center.

  “I can manage.” I reach down and attempt to take the cloth, but he doesn’t let go. I look back to see his eyes are softer now.

  “Take your time.”

  “Take my time?” I ask.

  “Getting your shit straight.” He holds back a smirk.

  “I assure you, my shit’s straight.” My shit is so not straight.

  “If we had more time, I would have fucked that up, too.” He steps back and looks me over.

  The source of raw emptiness pulses again.

  He makes no attempt to put clothes on; he simply watches me with irritating amusement.