WickedSeduction (4 page)

Marnie sank to her chair and stared at the picture then him,
comparing features. Although there were similarities, his use of shadows and
colors altered the likeness dramatically.

“Wait,” Tor said. “I was wrong.” He sighed. “That’s Angelina
Jolie.”

Marnie laughed. “With stubble?”

He grinned. “Hey, we have no idea what stars go through to
look pretty for the rest of us.”

She laughed again, liking how easily he relaxed her with his
teasing. “You’re amazing.”

Pleasure swept across his face. “Oh yeah?”

Yeah.
Not that she could get into details since their
connection began and ended in this room. Despite how little she’d have of Tor,
Marnie felt happier than she had in a long time. “Are you certain my altered
portrait will be enough to pay for the tats and special designs if I want
them?”

“Remember the older couple who were leaving as you arrived?”

“Is this another test of my memory, like when you asked
whether I’d noticed the drawings on the walls?”

His shoulders shook with laughter. “Nope. Let me make this
easy. Remember when we nearly ran into each other while I was carrying two
large drawings?”

“Looked like bubble wrap to me.”

“Ah, you do remember.” Tor wagged his finger at her. “The drawings
inside the wrap cost Polly and Hank a bundle.” He told Marnie what they’d paid.

Ohmygod.
“Congratulations.” She touched the back of
his hand, surprising herself for doing so, the heat and feel of his skin
keeping her from pulling away.

Tor cradled her hand in both of his as though his caress was
the most natural thing in the world.

“Let me do a portrait of you, please,” he said. “I swear,
you’ll get final say on whether the finished sketch goes on the wall or not.”

He was being too generous. “What if you don’t sell the
drawing?”

“I will.”

She smiled at his confidence, sensing a lot was pure bluff.
“I don’t know… Let’s say if the picture doesn’t sell within six months, I pay
you for the tattoos, with interest.”

“Then you are getting inked?”

How could she say no to his wonderful work, spending a few
happy moments with him, finally getting the chance to wear shorts and sleeveless
blouses as other women did? “Yeah, if you do the work.”

“Who else?” After squeezing her hand gently, Tor released
her. “I’ll get copies of the tats you like for you to take with you. How long
do you think you’ll need to decide if you want one of these or a special
design?”

“A few days?”

“When do you have some free time?”

“To have you do my tattoos?”

“To pose for the sketch.”

Oh.
She’d thought he’d do her picture afterward. “I
work until nine-thirty each night.”

“I’m here until ten most days—on Friday and Saturday, I go
until midnight. What days do you have off?”

“Sundays and Wednesdays.”

“I get Mondays and Wednesdays. We’ll do your portrait
tomorrow when we’re both free.”

Marnie nodded more readily than she would have believed. “Do
you want to sketch me here?”

“Too many distractions. If a walk-in arrived, someone might
draft me for the job. Would you mind posing outside?”

Very much. “Ah, I suppose you could come to my apartment.”

“You’re sure?”

He seemed so concerned about her feelings and comfort level,
Marnie suddenly
was
certain. “Yeah. There won’t be any distractions
there. Do you know where Alice’s Wonderland is?” She lived above the shop,
Alice having given her a great deal on the apartment. “I’m on the second floor.”

“I can find it. You like Castillo’s Cuban Cuisine?”

She’d spent many cool evenings sitting by her open windows,
savoring the delectable scents coming from the restaurant—onion, garlic, beef,
pork, chicken, fragrant pastries, her stomach always growling, mouth watering,
no extra money to indulge. “Never tried it.”

Tor grinned. “You’re in for a treat. My uncle Rafe owns the
place. I’ll bring us something from there, unless you’d prefer to eat in his
restaurant.”

Having others surround them would have probably been best if
not for her worry about Ethan. Marnie didn’t want to spend a meal with Tor
constantly looking over her shoulder, expecting the worst. She shook her head.
“My place is fine, if that’s okay with you.”

“Absolutely. Afternoon? Evening?”

“Five too soon?”

“Nope. I’ll get Rafe’s early bird special.”

“I’ll pay for half.” How, she wasn’t sure.

“No way. I get my food for free.” He grinned, making two
dimples.

Marnie’s heart turned over. “You’re lucky.”

“Shrewd. My cousins get their tats and portraits of
baptisms, confirmations, weddings, birthday parties, you name it, for nothing.
A win-win for everyone. I have the menu on my smartphone.” Tor brought up the
page and handed the device to Marnie. “Choose what you want while I get copies
of the tats you like, so we’re set for tomorrow.”

Their first night together.

After leaving Wicked Brand, Marnie was so deep in thought
she reached the giftshop without realizing how she’d gotten there. Her mouth
was dry, heart racing. She took another sip of Mountain Dew, not recalling when
she’d taken or opened the soda Tor had offered. Had she said goodbye to him?
Marnie couldn’t recall. Her last moments at the parlor were a haze, her
excitement and uncertainty at seeing him tomorrow consuming most of her
attention. Marnie wondered what she should wear, how she should act, what they
would talk about.

Him, surely. Not only because Marnie wouldn’t talk about
herself or Ethan, but because she was hungry for information on Tor’s art,
needing to know where he got his ideas. How he was able to take a blank piece
of paper—or skin, in the case of tattoos—and create such remarkable images. She
tried to imagine when Tor had known he wanted to be an artist. As a kid? A
teenager? Had the other kids given him hell for being artistic? No freaking
way. He had the body of an athlete and was a thousand percent male.

He’d spoken of a brother and two sisters. Marnie pictured
more siblings, along with his parents, and a large extended family. She bet he
had tons of relatives and envied him for having people who cared. There was a
time when she’d had aunts, uncles, cousins and her mother close by. All of them
were gone now, because of Ethan, leaving her unprotected and alone.

Suddenly, the soda felt too cold in Marnie’s mouth and
throat despite the steamy day. Like an unwanted tune, Tor’s earlier words
started to play in her mind.

“Who did this to you?”

A reasonable question Marnie would consider asking if she’d
seen similar scars on anyone else. Not that she’d been able to answer him or
address the horror she’d heard in his deep, smooth voice. She’d changed the
subject instead, wanting to remain firmly in the present, never bringing up the
past, hoping he wouldn’t notice her evasiveness. Wondering what he might say
when he did.

Like tomorrow night.

My God, they were going to be alone in her apartment then,
facing each other, talking, speaking, possibly touching…

Her mind whirled with thoughts of Tor’s hands cradling her
face as he tilted her head to the right or left until he had her in the perfect
pose. She imagined his thumbs stroking her cheeks, him easing her hair from her
shoulders, tucking a few strands behind her ears, his body close, heat and
scent impossible to dismiss. At the thought, Marnie felt weightless yet weighed
down, a curious combination. A dull, achy feeling settled in her pussy. Her
nipples couldn’t get harder, the tips erect enough to sting slightly. Exactly
as they would if Tor had taken them into his mouth and suckled, his tongue
sweeping over her tightened areolas.

She trembled with intolerable desire. Moisture dampened her
panties, her pussy preparing itself for his thick, hard cock…at least in her
mind.

Better to remember her desires were only fantasy that could
never become real.

“There you are,” Alice called, hurrying over as Marnie
entered the deserted shop. Although the tattoo parlor had been humming with
clients, the weather was apparently too stifling to bring customers here.

Alice studied her. “You were gone so long, I figured you
actually talked to him. Good for you. What happened? What’s that?” She gestured
to the large envelope in Marnie’s hand.

She’d forgotten about the copies Tor had made. God, her last
minutes with him were a blank. “Pictures of tattoos he showed me to cover my
scars. He had tons of designs. These are the ones I liked best.” Marnie lifted
the envelope. “I still can’t decide which to choose. Want to see?”

“Sure. Are the pictures why you’re smiling so much?”

Huh? Marnie put the envelope on a counter and touched the
side of her mouth. What she felt wasn’t a smile but a grin that was beginning
to hurt her cheeks. She really had to get a grip. “He’s coming here tomorrow at
five.”

“The shop?”

“My apartment.”

Alice beamed. “You have a date?”

“What? No. He’s going to sketch my face as a way for me to
pay for the service.” She told Alice about the artwork Tor had sold today.

“Damn. He must be good.”

He’d been kind, gentle, funny. Marnie liked his teasing the
best. She didn’t want anyone treating her as though she might break. All her
life, she’d admired ballsy women who knew what they wanted and went after their
dreams. The kind of person who laughed easily, loved with abandon, had no fear
or regret. A woman who was a match for a guy like Tor. Marnie couldn’t see him
with any other kind of woman. He was comfortable in his own skin, not needing
to prove anything to anyone. “He’s amazing.”

“I can tell by how you look. Whether tomorrow is a date or
not, what are you doing down here when you should be upstairs?”

Marnie shook her head, not following. “Lunch is over. Way
over. I need to get back to work and make up for the extra time I took off.”

“You see anyone in here?” Alice gestured to the empty shop.
“Go upstairs and do whatever you need to do to get your apartment ready for his
visit tomorrow.”

Her place was already spotless. A lesson Marnie had learned
from her mom, who’d been afraid to leave one speck of dirt on any surface. If
she had, there would have been hell to pay. “Unless I decide to rearrange what
little furniture I have, there’s not much to do.”

Alice handed her the envelope. “You can look at these
pictures and decide what you want. You’ve waited a long time for this.”

Marnie hated to bring up the obvious but had to since Alice
was clearly avoiding the subject. “Are we so slow you’re having trouble paying
me?” Good God, was Alice going to lay her off?

“Of course not.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “You’ve
earned some time away from here—with pay. You never leave the shop before ten
even though you clock out at nine-thirty.”

“There’s stuff to do.”

Alice patted her arm. “Go upstairs and dream a little.
You’re entitled.”

Maybe, but the notion still felt weird to Marnie. For as
long as she could recall, she’d worried about everyone else’s comfort and
happiness to the exclusion of her own. Marnie wasn’t certain she knew how to
dream.

Once in her apartment, she stood in the middle of the clean,
tidy space, the living room, kitchen and bedroom flowing into each other, no
walls anywhere except for the ones that closed off the bathroom. The apartment
smelled faintly of the lemon wax she’d used on the furniture Alice had
provided. Marnie had come here with nothing, simply grateful to have escaped
Ethan.

Peppy Latin music pumped from a passing car, mingling with
the whoosh of the window air-conditioner trying to keep up with the oppressive
heat.

Marnie regarded the envelope Tor had given her then looked
at her laptop, the one luxury she’d allowed herself in order to take online
courses from the university. She should use this extra time to study not dream.

Rather than powering up the computer, she brought the copies
to her bed. The thought of Tor being here tomorrow made the mattress seem much
larger than Marnie recalled. No way could she hide the bed from him, not even
if she heaped her clothes, towels and sheets on top. Until now, she’d never
worried about the arrangement of space in her tiny studio, since no one except
Alice had been by.

Having anyone else visit hadn’t occurred to Marnie, until
now.

Even with her worry about Ethan, she should have chosen the
restaurant for her and Tor’s meal and persuaded him to sketch her downstairs in
the shop. Alice wouldn’t have minded. The customers would be able to see Tor’s
work, maybe ask him to do their portraits. He and Marnie would have a buffer of
other people around them so they wouldn’t have to talk, laugh, get to know each
other.

Problem was she wanted time alone with him, her hunger for
intimacy continuing to build rather than diminish, despite her lingering
caution.

Biting her lip, she finally slipped out of her panties, the
crotch damp from her arousal.

Marnie stretched across the mattress, one arm pillowing her
head, eyes closed, legs parted.

Her thoughts wandered.

She pictured vibrant flowers and butterflies gracing her arm
and leg as she faced Tor naked and unashamed, waiting for him to undress.
No,
wait.
He’d want her to strip him.

Smiling at the thought, Marnie eased her hand over her
mound, playing with the curls between her legs, her mind filling with images of
lowering Tor’s jeans and underwear, his meaty shaft springing free of his
clothes, weighty balls hot in her hand, the ruddy skin lightly furred with
short, dark hairs.

A pulse beat deep within her pussy. She rested her finger on
her cleft, found the lips puffy and drenched with desire.

In her mind, she saw her tongue sweeping over Tor’s sac and
imagined her smile at his sharp intake of breath caused by the sensations she’d
created in him. His musky scent would invite Marnie to press her face into his
thick tangle of curls and fill herself with his fragrance, masculine to the
extreme.

She moaned quietly at the thought and touched her clit.
Instantly, Marnie arched her back at her nub’s sensitivity, a riot of
sensations filling her, wanton and exciting. Unable to resist, she stroked her
clit once, twice, again and again, squirming at the pleasure racing through
her. If she didn’t slow down, she’d come within seconds.

No way. She wanted this to last. She needed to dream.

Marnie’s thoughts returned to her fantasy of Tor. Silly, she
knew, given they had no future.

The notion didn’t stop her in the least from imagining his
rod in her hand, the heat and silkiness of his skin. A bead of pre-cum would
have already seeped past the small slit in the head of his cock. Marnie
imagined its salty taste, the unique flavor of his flesh as she slipped the
crown inside her mouth, imprisoning that part of him as her pussy would
eventually do. Or rather, her cunt.

With him, the word would be thrilling and seductive, not crude
or demeaning. With him, nothing would be impossible or forbidden.

Marnie wanted his mouth on her breasts, on her clit, his
hands exploring, cock thrusting into each of her openings, his big body pressed
close, weight confining yet liberating, every inch of him setting her on fire,
urging her to come.

She rubbed her clit hard and fast, the tension in her legs
and pussy so unbearable Marnie had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out. A
few times, she tried to stop, wanting to draw out the pleasure.

Lust and longing wouldn’t allow her to pause. Images of Tor
on top of her, his cock tunneled deep inside her sheath, their mouths joined in
an impassioned kiss pushed Marnie even farther toward completion.

On a muffled groan, she shattered, bursts of heat warming
her, perspiration coating her neck, her inner muscles contracting steadily with
her release.

Spent, she struggled for air, her heart beating crazily.

Wasn’t enough. She wanted more, the floodgates suddenly
open, her pent-up passion demanding its due.

Marnie ground the heels of her hands into her eyes and
swore, frustrated with herself. She knew better than to want, hope, dream.

What in the hell is the matter with you? Haven’t you been
through enough with Ethan and everything else? You want more of the same?

Not from Tor, never from him, he was different. Wasn’t he?

Marnie growled at her uncertainty and the position she’d put
herself in—inviting him here when her bed wasn’t only a major distraction but
an outrageous temptation, needing to be alone with him when he’d surely want to
know stuff about her. Personal things Marnie didn’t want to discuss. Questions
she’d never be willing to answer.

Like who had caused her scars, nearly killing her.

* * * * *

For Tor, Wednesday at five o’clock seemed as though it would
never come. Generally, he spent his days off sketching or taking care of stuff
such as grocery shopping, washing his clothes, hooking up with women he liked
for a quick bite, movie, or other entertainment, followed by hours of sex.

Today, he woke at dawn and couldn’t get back to sleep. After
a two-mile jog in the muggy air, he could barely breathe but still hadn’t put a
dent in his restlessness. He wanted to see Marnie badly. Twice during his run,
he’d passed the shop where she worked, peering at the second story of the brick
building, at her windows.

She didn’t appear in any of them. The blinds remained
tightly shut. Probably a good thing. Tor didn’t want her to think he was
stalking her.

Fuck, where had all this desire come from? As a rule, he was
always pleased to meet a new woman in order to get something intimate started,
wild monkey sex the goal.

He wanted the same with Marnie and a pissing lot more. Tor’s
desire to share conversation with her was overwhelming. He was starved for
information—where had she come from, did her family live in the area, how many
siblings did she have, what were her likes and dislikes as far as food,
entertainment, life goals and other things were concerned?

Many of the women he’d known talked about themselves nonstop
until he’d zoned out, nodding politely when they paused for air. Marnie had
offered so little, she’d intrigued him. However, curiosity wasn’t the only
reason he wanted to know more. She’d touched Tor in a way no other woman had,
delighting him when she’d smiled at how his work could make her scars pretty.
Troubling him when she’d reacted so intensely at his suggestion that she pose
for a portrait.

The panic on her face had been beyond obvious, answering at
least one question he’d had.

Whoever had hurt her wasn’t behind bars. If the prick had
been, Marnie wouldn’t be terrified at the thought of her likeness being on the
wall.