Tattooed On You

XXXIII: Art is We

A playful smirk forms my lips as I open the front door. I'm doing it as slowly as I can muster, just to tease the living fuck out of the woman whose hands are rubbing all over my back as we speak.

I can't fucking wait to have her alone but seeing how she turns more impatient with the second is hilarious.

I feel like I'm high. Four days I've been waiting for this. For four days I've been preparing what I wanted to say to her. I've even written them down because I know I suck with words.

Since I'm laying everything on the table here; I was fucking bricking it. I've never been as scared of anything as I was when I walked into that shop and saw her again. Sure, it was because I was about to get something fucking personal and huge on my skin forever, but mostly so, it was because I knew that it was my only chance. If I didn't nail my words to her, it would be done.

Given the way her front is now ghosting against my back as I turn the key in its lock, I think I nailed it.

"You are taking too long," she mumbles from behind me. I can tell she's talking with her lips against my hoodie, and although the contact is minimal, it makes all the hairs on my body stand.

"Oh, yeah?" I smirk, although Jo doesn't see because I have my eyes cast on my hand that slowly turns the key. The moment the door opens, however, slowly is gone, because the blonde Aussie practically throws me inside, turns me, and then pushes me against the wall.

Her hands are flat on my chest, the force behind them clear as day. She's lifting to her tiptoes as we speak, and when the tip of her nose rubs against mine, I can feel her hot breath on my mouth. "You are so annoying. Why do you like to drive me insane?"

Because I love to hear that pant behind your words. Because I love how goosebumps rise over your skin when I do so. Because I love what it does to your complexion. Because I love how your whole body shakes violently when you come while your sounds are soft and serene. Because I love... You.

Jesus Christ, here I go. I'm pretty sure I skipped a few stages here. What the actual fuck?

"Because you like it too," I cheekily respond while my eyes linger on her pink, full, parted lips. "Fuck, your lips are so fucking pretty."

Her hands squeeze into fists, the fabric of my hoody stuck between her fingers. "You like them?"

For lack of words, because she distracts me by running her tongue over her lower lip, I just nod even though she bloody well knows the answer to her question.

"Yeah?" she husks, leaning forward so her mouth skims against mine. "Where would you like them?"

Her eyes shine as she asks that question, and I can't help but smirk. Wicked little tease. I place my hands on her cheeks which I discover to be hot. Slowly, I then drag my thumb over her lips before pushing it through while I give her my honest answer. "Wrapped around me."

Fuck, do I want to feel them wrapped around me? Around any part of me really; my thumb, my cock, my fucking toe, I don't care, just as long I get to see how her lips form into that perfect 'O' as she slides over something of me.

She sucks on my thumb while fluttering her lashes, and then she lets go of me with a pop. "Giving you that tattoo really has made me... horny and wet," she confesses, almost in explanation of her insanely sexy behavior. And while she's at it, she moves one of her legs in between mine before it lifts so her knee rubs against my crotch.

"Yeah? Why?" I need to hear her. From the moment she started tattooing me, I've tried to tell her exactly how I feel about her and I think she got the message because she wanted to go home -to our home. But she hasn't said much except for some very explicit shit she wants to do.