Pretty In Ink (6 page)

WILSON

As far as I was concerned, sex was a commitment, and not something that was done out of a desire to fulfill some form of fantasy or a need to feel pleasure. Although I realized it was quite possible that Stevie didn’t agree with me, I felt I needed proof that what we were doing wasn’t being done for selfish reasons. I enjoyed sex as much or more than any man, but once it was over there would be no way to undo it, reverse the clock, or remove the feelings associated with it.

Before I had a chance to devise a way to explain matters, potentially making a fool of myself at a time that would have so far qualified as being quite romantic, Stevie beat me to the punch.

“Promise me you won’t hurt me,” she said as she pulled off her socks.

“I’ll uhhm. I’ll take it slow and easy,” I murmured.

She coughed a laugh and shook her head. “Let me rephrase it. Don’t fuck me and get my hopes up, then leave me or start slapping me around. I don’t want to be hurt
emotionally
. Not again.”

“I have nothing but the best intentions,” I assured her.

“And as far as taking it slow and easy,” she said as she pulled her shirt over her head. “You can forget about that. I like it kind of rough.”

While attempting to make sense of what she had said, but long before I could formulate a response, she reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. As she rolled the straps over her shoulders and lowered the garment to the floor, I stood and stared at what seemed to be perfect breasts attached to the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

“I uhhm…” I stammered.

“Listen, I know you’re probably nervous, but I’m not. Take your clothes off, Wilson. I want to suck that big fat cock of yours,” she said as she began to push her yoga pants down along her thighs.

Everything proved to be too much. Her mention of liking rough sex, her perky breasts, her hard nipples, her beautiful purple hair, gorgeous face, and…

She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

And her entire lower region was shaved clean.

Although reaching full erection in the past took some mental stimulation on my part and often required at least some physical interaction from a woman, it sure didn’t seem to be the case with Stevie. I felt myself instantly become hard, and along with it, extreme discomfort followed.

Now standing at the foot of the bed completely naked, she widened her eyes and thrust her hands in the air.

“Having second thoughts?” she asked.

I swallowed heavily, continued to stare, and shook my head.

Her eyes narrowed considerably, and her mouth curled into a smirk. “When was the last time you had sex?”

“It’s uhhm. It was,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Ten years ago.”

“You’re fucking shittin’ me. Ten years? Holy shit,” she gasped. “You sure you want to do this?”

I nodded my head eagerly.

“Positive?” she asked as she slowly approached me.

I nodded my head again and swallowed the slowly rising lump in my throat. I really wanted to continue, and not only proceed with the sex, but to please her in any and all ways she expected me to. There was no doubt in my mind that she was out of my league, but I refused to allow myself to continue to feel as if I was out of my element.

I unbuckled my belt, somewhat gracefully unfastened my jeans, and pulled against the zipper while I maintained eye contact with her. As I pushed the waist of my jeans past my underwear, she shrieked.

“You wear boxer briefs?” she bellowed, her face washed with surprise. “Fuck yes.”

After dropping my jeans to the floor, I reached for the waistband of my underwear.

“No, no…leave them on,” she whispered. “Take off the shirt. And you can leave the socks on too.”

I pulled my shirt over my head, feeling somewhat embarrassed, almost as if I was being inspected for faults. Stevie stood six feet or so from me with her hand covering her mouth and her eyes fixed on my underwear.

“You uhhm, you work out those legs, don’t you?” she murmured through the gaps between her fingers.

I glanced downward and nodded my head. “Uh huh.”

“Yeah, most guys don’t. But damn, dude, you’ve got some sexy trunks. And your chest…” she said as her eyes shifted upward slightly.

As she studied my torso, she reached between her legs and rubbed herself with her fingers. After a moment, and without saying a word, she raised her hand in the air and turned her palm toward me. The inside of her fingers glistened in the light.

“See that?” she asked as she shifted her eyes to meet mine.

With each nod of my head I felt my cock twitch upward a little more. I bit my bottom lip slightly and attempted to swallow.

“Uhhm.”

She shifted her eyes toward her hand and grinned. “Looking at you makes me wet. I need that cock, Wilson. And I need it now.”

She turned toward the bed, bent over, and rested her forearms on the comforter. After arching her back slightly and tossing her head from side to side, her hair settled in the center of her back.

“Get ahold of my hair,” she said. “And I like being bitten. Neck, shoulders, ears, lips…”

I pushed my underwear past my stiff cock and along my thighs. After kicking them to the side I gazed down at my socks. It seemed rather silly to leave them on, but considering that she had asked me to, I felt I should comply. Now standing behind her with a raging hard-on and a mountain of desire to please her, I felt lost as to what my next step should be.

“Just do it,” she said over her shoulder.

The entire process from carrying her into the room until I stood naked behind her hadn’t taken two minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. As much as I wanted to hold her, kiss her, and caress her entire body, I desperately desired to comply with her wishes and fulfill her desires. I reached down, gathered her hair in my hand, and pulled against it slightly.

“No, I’m going to need you to pull that shit,” she said.

I tugged a little harder.

“More,” she said.

I pulled it tight in my hand.

“More,” she moaned.

Only to prove a point, I pulled it harder than I was sure she wanted me to.

“Perfect,” she grunted.

Standing behind her staring down at her narrow back and her tattoo covered body with her hair held tight in my hand, I felt powerful; not only as if I was in charge, but also capable of providing her exactly what she wanted, desired, and ultimately, needed.

With my free hand I reached down and guided my cock between her legs. As I felt the tip penetrate her wet folds, I closed my eyes and sighed. Cautiously, I pushed my hips forward, opened my eyes, and gazed down beyond her little round ass. Slowly, my stiffness disappeared inside of her.

“Oh God,” she moaned as I buried myself deep inside of her. 

I shifted my eyes to my hair-filled hand, almost forgetting what I was doing. After watching my soaking wet shaft slide completely out of her equally wet pussy, I pushed myself deep inside of her and pulled against her hair as I did so.

“Fuck yes. Fuck me, Wilson,” she howled as my cock bottomed out inside of her.

It was all the encouragement I seemed to need. I continued to pull against her hair, thrusting myself in and out of her forcefully as the sound of our bodies slapping against each other echoed throughout the room. Every few strokes, she let out a wail or groaned in pleasure. Her moaning seemed to provide fuel for me to continue, and continue I did. After several minutes of uninterrupted fucking, I found myself tugging against her hair with much more force and pounding myself inside of her without an ounce of restraint.

As I watched her begin to shudder from the force of my hips pounding against her ass, my eyes eventually went unfocused and I slowly took every bit of her perfectly shaped body into memory. Her tattoos, her shape, her smell, the sounds she made, how it felt to feel myself inside of her tight wet warmth…I absorbed it all. 

And, as my mind came back into focus, I recalled her desire to be bitten.

I continued to methodically work myself in and out of her, bending at the waist as I did so. Maintaining pressure on her hair, and pulling against it until her back arched from the force, I leaned forward and encompassed her ear with my lips.

“Son-of-a…” she moaned as I nibbled on her ear lobe.

I bit into the fleshy lower lobe of her ear as I held myself deep inside of her. The harder I bit, the louder she groaned in pleasure. I cinched the lobe in my teeth and pulled against it slightly. In return, she wailed in pleasure. I released her ear and moved my mouth along her neck, dragging my teeth against her skin as I did so. Her continued moaning provided assurance I was doing exactly what she had hoped.

As my mouth slid to her shoulder, I bit into the meaty upper portion of her back until I felt the muscle tightly bound between my teeth. A string of blubbered expletives and a few gyrations of her hips later, she arched her back and moaned loudly into the open room.

Her pussy contracted around my swollen cock as she bucked her hips back and forth rhythmically. Within a few seconds, she went limp.

“Oh…Fuck…” she whimpered as she collapsed onto the bed.

After a few seconds of silence, all of which included my dick still being buried deep inside of her, she raised her chest from the bed and peered over her shoulder.

Her eyes were incapable of completely hiding the slight worry which obviously filled her mind.

“You’re not done?” she asked.

I wanted to me that
man. The guy she proudly told her friends about in the bar over a bottle of beer. The one she came back to time and time again, the man she was afraid each and every time just might fuck her to death, but she was incapable of walking away from. The person, when the time was right, she eventually would fall in love with, knowing he was completely willing – and capable – of satisfying her each and every desire.

I wanted to be
the one. 

“Far from it,” I growled as I gripped her waist in my hands.

“Where have you been all my life,” she breathed.

Whether she realized it or not, she had already placed me atop a pedestal. I felt like a complete success, and was filled with an unbelievable sense of pride. Her remark left me feeling even more so. Now with an inflated sense of sexual self-esteem, I gazed down at her, fixed my eyes on her, and responded in a manner much different than I ever would have expected.

“Waiting to meet someone who could take all the sexual punishment I like to deliver,” I responded.

She buried her face in the comforter and screamed in apparent joy. After a few seconds of silence, she raised her head, glanced over her shoulder, and grinned.

“Your search is over, Wilson. Whether you know it or not, she’s bent over in front of you with your fat cock throbbing inside of her,” she said.

With her waist still in my hands, I slowly began to work myself in and out of her wet mound. As I did so, I grinned in return, fully believing her stubborn nature and my self-pride would prevent either one of us from giving up.

But I was prepared to find out.

STEVIE

Everything seemed new to me. The drive to work was no longer irritating, nor was the time spent at the many stoplights between my home and the shop spent yelling at the person in front of me. Instead, I sat quietly and thought of the time Wilson and I had spent together.

I was unable to pinpoint what was different about him, and I guessed it really didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was how he made me feel, and even that was difficult to understand and even more impossible to explain.

“Are you in love?” Riley asked.

“No, you fucking dork, I’m not in love,” I said.

“How do you know?” she asked.

I stared at my bottle of beer as I picked at the label, slowly peeling it from the bottle. I really didn’t know what I was feeling, but I enjoyed whatever it was more than anything else I had experienced in my life. I was quite certain the car and the flowers had very little to do with my feelings, as material things had never really mattered much to me in the past.

In my opinion, Wilson made me feel like he actually cared. I wasn’t a cute little bitch for him to show off to his friends, or a tight hole for him to pound. I was a woman he was attracted to, someone he enjoyed spending time with, and someone who he obviously perceived as being pretty close to an equal.

“Because I know,” I said as I glanced up from the bottle of beer.

She shrugged her shoulders and raised her bottle of beer to her lips. “Sounds like bullshit to me.”

I shrugged my shoulders mockingly, and picked at the label of my beer.

“Do you think about him like all the time?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” I responded as I took a drink of beer.

She glanced over each shoulder and leaned into the center of the booth. “Have you, uhhm. You know,
masturbated
while you think of him?” she whispered.

“Yeah, but I’ve also masturbated to thoughts of Charlie Hunnan, Johnny Depp, and Chris Hemsworth, but I don’t love any of them,” I said with a laugh.

“You’re impossible,” she sighed.

“I’m realistic,” I said as I raised my bottle of beer.

I had no idea of what it was I was feeling, all I knew was that I liked it. As I sat back in the booth and stared the length of the bar with unfocused eyes, Riley continued her series of questioning.

“What makes him different that everyone else?” she asked.

I opened my mouth to respond, and came up with nothing. There were many things I could have said, but for some reason, was incapable of naming them. Not because they weren’t worthy of mention or questionable in their significance, but because there were just too damned many of them swimming around in my head. Instead, I reached for my purse, pulled out the card he had given me on our second date, and handed it to her.

“Read this,” I said.

She slid her beer to the side of the table. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s a fucking pineapple, you dip-shit. What’s it look like?”

“A card,” she said as she pulled the card from the envelope.

“You should be a fucking detective. Now read it,” I said as I leaned into the corner of the booth and studied her.

As she read the card, her mouth curled into a huge smile. I found it satisfying that she appeared to read it again, filling with pride that a man had actually written what she was reading for me and me alone.

“Holy crap. He wrote this?” she asked.

I nodded my head. “Sure did. Date number two. And he’s given me three or four more since, but that was the first.”

She slid the card back inside the envelope and handed it to me.

“Wow,” she sighed.

“Wow is right,” I said as I pulled the card from the envelope and read it again.

Stevie,

I had always believed life was dull, and work was my only calling in life. I stumbled through the fog of my days knowing nothing of what life really had to offer me, nor did I care. During the darkest of dreary days, you appeared. Since that moment, you have brought light into my life and provided me with purpose, and for that I thank you.

I live hoping the warmth and color you bring into my life continues, for I now understand what life can offer me through knowing you; and being without you would cause me to return not to living, but to dying.

And I desperately want to live life.

As long as it includes you in it.

Wilson

“He’s so nice it’s almost like, I don’t know, unbelievable,” she said.

I finished my beer and slid the empty bottle toward the edge of the table. “I feel like I don’t deserve him.”

“I feel the same way with Blake,” Riley said.

I nodded my head as I waved at the waitress. As she made eye contact, I extended two fingers, hoping she was intelligent enough to understand what I wanted without coming to the table and talking to us, which I found to be invasive and irritating. In a perfect world, bars would have a beer machine no different than a soda machine and we would simply stand up, walk to it, and poke money in. After selecting the drink of choice and pressing the button, the beer would slide out a chute and into the waiting hands of the thirsty patron.

As she acknowledged my request by raising two fingers and widening her eyes, I sighed and nodded my head.

“I hate people,” I said.

“Who?” Riley asked.

“Waitresses,” I said. “And that white-haired bitch that drives around giving parking tickets. Oh, and that skinny red-haired girl at the store on Douglas who can’t seem to figure out how to scan a sack of tofu.”

“But you don’t hate Wilson,” she said.

“He’s not stupid,” I said.

“The waitress isn’t stupid,” she said.

Riley no more than finished speaking, and the waitress arrived with a Coors Light dangling from each hand.

“Here you go,” she said with a smile as she pushed the beers across the table.

I glanced at the beers, shifted my eyes to meet Riley’s, and shrugged my shoulders as I tilted my head toward the beers. 

“Is everything okay?” the waitress asked.

“No, it’s not. We were drinking Shocktop, and you brought us Coors Light,” I said.

“Oh,” she said as she covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.”

I slid the beers toward the edge of the table. “Just take ‘em back.”

She widened her eyes and lowered her hand. “I’ve already opened them,” she said softly.

“Coors Light tastes like goat piss, just bring us our check,” I said.

“Wow,” she gasped.

I turned in the booth to face her. As our eyes met, I cocked my right eyebrow. “Wow what?”

“Wow, you’re rude,” she said.

“Rude? Really? Because I won’t drink goat piss? Listen, it’s your job to remember what we’re drinking, and bring it to us. You nodded your fucking head like you understood,” I said.

She shrugged her shoulders.

I glanced around the empty bar. Other than Riley and me, two men sat at the center of the bar, talking and drinking mixed drinks. Another lone man sat at the end of the bar drinking what appeared to be whiskey of some sort.

I shifted my eyes back to the waitress. “There are five fucking people in here. And only two of them are drinking beer. But none of them are drinking Coors Light. You bringing us that beer would be the same as you coming into the tattoo parlor and asking me for a tattoo of a flower on your foot, and then having me tattoo a fucking Polar Bear instead. Bring us our check.”

She reached in her apron, pulled out her little ticket pad and scribbled on it. After she made a production of tearing it off the pad, she slapped the bill against the table. “Here.”

“Thank you,” I snapped back.

As she turned walked away, I slid the ticket in front of me and studied it. $7.50 for the two beers we drank. I pulled $8.00 from my purse, placed the money on top of the bill, and slid one of the bottles of Coors Light on top of it. 

“Ready?” I asked.

Yeah,” Riley said. “Maybe she wasn’t too smart.”

“You think?” I said over my shoulder as I pushed myself up from the booth.

As we walked through the bar toward the exit, the waitress hollered at us, apparently upset about the fifty cent tip I left her dumb ass.

“What’s your name, so I can tell everyone not to come get a tattoo from you?” she yelled.

I turned around, placed my hands against my hips, and responded in the most tasteful manner I knew how.

“The name’s Stevie, Bitch.”