DeeperThanInk (12 page)

Becca had to ask, “What goes on during private time?”

“It’s the best,” Franco said in a soft, dreamy tone that
immediately stopped his crying. Gretchen stroked his spine with just her
fingertips and he turned his face into the mattress.

“One-on-one time,” Gretchen explained. “Not necessarily
sexual, I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a chance to talk about
specific needs for fulfillment. What we can do to reach subspace.”

She must have noticed Becca’s puzzledlook and explained.

“Subspace is when you let go completely. Reach a higher
place in the scene because your trust is unwavering. You know you’ll be safe no
matter what.”

“So Andres was pissed that Libbie didn’t show and he took it
out on Franco? That’s pretty fucked up,” Chad said. He set the basket of
supplies on the nightstand.

“Master told Franco he wanted him as part of a scene for
some very important customers who come in twice a year. They always request
Franco. It’s very gratifying when someone does that. Shawna and I are only
brought along because of our station with the Master. But then he chose the whip
over the flogger and everything turned really bad. He knows Franco’s limits but
he ignored them. Ignored his safe word. It was as if he was the one who went to
another place, not us.”

“There are butterfly bandages,” Chad interrupted. Becca
turned and met his worried gaze. “There’s not a whole lot more for something
that deep.”

“That should work, don’t you think?” Gretchen questioned
hopefully.

Becca looked once more at the cut. The blood had stopped
running but it was still a mess. She wanted to help, but she couldn’t.

“No, it’s not going to work,” she replied. Just like the
other people in this club, Becca knew her limits. “This really isn’t my strong
suit. I’m an inker. That’s all.”

Chad wanted to tell her she was a hell of a lot more than
just
anything
. How many other people, artists or not, would drop
everything and try to help? And his opinion didn’t have a damn thing to with
the fact they’d been contentedly naked on his favorite piece of furniture when
it happened.

Becca was something special. His heart had known that for
quite some time. It had just taken his brain a little longer to catch on.

His need to help her consumed him. It was time to talk
reality. Man to man with Franco. Without soft, stroking hands and the soothing
lull of feminine voices. Chad jerked his head to the side, giving Becca and
Gretchen a silent
beat it
before he bent down and sat back on his
haunches.

“Franco. You made it through an hour of Becca pounding your
skin repeatedly to get that tattoo. Those needles, especially the ones she used
for the outline, those suckers were monsters compared to what you’d have to
deal with in the hospital. I can try to clean this out and tape it up, but
without the stitches, you’re going to have a bitch of a gap in that design.
It’s going to look like shit, man. And there’s that other little thing. Where
it gets infected and you fuckin’ die.”

Franco turned his head and rested it on one hand. He pinned
Chad with his sad eyes. This close, Chad could see signs that Franco was older
than Chad had thought. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the weathered
hand.

“Where did he hit it?” Franco asked.

Chad wouldn’t lie. “Right through the charm.”

“Through my initial?” Franco whispered.

Chad nodded.

Seconds ticked by and tension began to cord Chad’s neck. He
hoped like hell the man wasn’t going to start crying again. He didn’t want to
have to get any tougher.

“He doesn’t love me anymore or he wouldn’t have done this,”
Franco said. His eyes became glassy. His pale-blue gaze latched on to Chad’s.
“Have you ever lost someone?”

“I have,” Chad replied. “I lost my dad.”

Franco nodded but he didn’t say a word.

“But he would have never wanted me to put myself at risk,”
Chad added. “To not get help if I needed it.”

The corner of Franco’s mouth turned up in a bitter smile.
“My old man split when I was seven. He left me in the stands at an Orioles
game.”

Holy fucking shit.

He placed his hand on Franco’s forearm. “C’mon, man. It’ll
be fine. I promise.”

“I doubt it,” Franco said. But he rolled slowly to his side
and pushed himself to an upright position. “I don’t think anything’s going to
be fine again.”

Chad stood up. He was reaching for Franco’s arm when a large
thud
echoed through the room. He spun around as the door cracked back on
its hinges and a rough, female voice yelled, “Police. Freeze.”

The missing Libbie rushed inside the room, Glock in hand,
hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, a determined look on her face. For a
second, Chad thought the whole thing was a joke. Her practicing for some
Charlie Angels role play. Except that gun looked pretty fucking real and she
was wearing a flak jacket.

And two steps behind her was Dave. Similar stance, similar
chest gear, but a lot bigger gun.

Chad and Becca had stayed out of the way during the swarm of
activity. Dave had told him to get Becca covertly out the door but she had been
determined not to let any harm befall Franco or the women. Champion of the
injured and possibly misunderstood submissives. That was something that had
never come up during their lengthy conversations. But it didn’t surprise him.
What had, however, was the fact that Libbie turned out to be an undercover
agent named Violet.

Chad glanced toward the far corner of the dungeon where
Becca, Violet and the other three women were in an animated conversation that
Chad felt certain he didn’t need to be part of. Apparently, Dave felt the same
way because he was headed straight toward Chad.

“I think this belongs to your girl.” Dave said handed him an
envelope. Becca’s name was on the outside, neatly printed in Herzog’s familiar
script. It was sealed but Chad weighed the contents with his hand, recognizing
the familiar shape and feel of a wad of cash.

“She’s not my girl, Dave.”

“Damn, Chad. I knew you got all the looks but didn’t realize
you were off beatin’ the bishop when the brains were being handed out. Of
course she’s your girl. When was the last time you raced into the middle of a
potential clusterfuck for anyone? Male or female?”

“It’s been awhile. And that was a horrible analogy.”

“Whatever. You know I nearly failed Comp class. I’m happy to
see you with her, though. Mom and Diane and me thought all that wine stuff was
turning you gay.”

Chad arched a brow, fighting back a smile.

“Well, maybe it was just me, thinking you were running away
from shit after Dad died. Taking the easy way out. Trying to find the real
meaning of life.” Chad watched the somberness cross his brother’s eyes. “But
then Nathan died.”

His brother stopped. Cleared his voice. Chad couldn’t
imagine what Dave went through on a daily basis. Losing their dad had been
tough. But it paled in comparison to the rare blood disease that took Dave’s
son in a matter of months. It had taken over a year of therapy for his brother
and sister-in-law to move on. To accept.

His older brother was a good man. Chad handed the envelope
back to him, not wanting his sibling getting in trouble. “Becca wouldn’t want
you or anyone else to get in hot water over this.”

Dave hesitated then took the envelope back. “I know. I
worked that in during our little chat. She asked if I could find a way to get
it to those four she inked. She’s worried about what they’re going to do now
that Herzog is being detained. Oh, and I may have mentioned you and I are
related, too. Hope you weren’t saving that for a surprise.”

“I was. You ruin everything,” Chad deadpanned. He hadn’t
told Becca because the family always tried to keep Dave’s career as low profile
as possible.

“I know.” Dave chuckled. “You’ve been telling me that since
you were ten.”

“And thanks for bringing us back up here.” Chad gestured
toward the stage. “That old fuck stood right there and drooled over both me
and
Becca.”

“He wasn’t gender-specific, that’s for sure. And please note
we brought everyone here. That’s what we do when there’s a big reveal.” Dave
winked. Chad wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or someone behind him.

“Right. Just like in those old mysteries,” Chad added.
“Colonel So-and-so, in the dungeon—”

“With the butt plug.” Becca’s hands slid around his waist
from behind and he covered her fingers with his palms, squeezing them.

Chad raised her fingers to his and kissed them before he
responded. “Where have you been and what have you learned, woman?”

“Tell you later,” she said, rubbing her face against the
back of his shoulder. “But don’t be surprised if there’s a strap-on involved.”

Dave laughed. Chad scrunched his brows. He’d tell her later
how
that
would never happen.

“I like her,” Dave said. “How’d you two meet?”

Chad felt her breasts rise and knew she was taking a deep
breath. Preparing to tell the tale. He decided to cut her off. Just this once.
“So I’m going into work nearly a year ago. Three o’clock, same as always. And I
walk past the tattoo parlor. Down from the restaurant, just like I do every
day—”

“Oh boy,” Becca said in mock worry. “Maybe we should find
you some popcorn, Dave.”

“And there she is. Standing at the counter, talking to the
owner. I saw that long hair hanging nearly to the middle of her back. It was
jet black then not red. She changes it as often as she changes her panties—”

“Hey!” Becca tried to pull her hands free, but he wouldn’t
let them budge.

“She had on a pair of jeans so snug I knew she couldn’t be
wearing panties.”

“So that changes the whole switching-hair-color timeline,”
Dave added with a thoughtful nod.

Becca shifted her body, rubbing her breasts over his back
and his balls took a sudden interest.

She moved around his side and stacked her hands on her hips.
Chad loved that pose.

“And she had these
killer
heels on—”

“Hotter than what she’s got on now?” Dave asked. “Because I
know for a fact, there are two more-reputable clubs on this street that she
could stroll into in that getup and grown men would be groveling at her feet,
just for a chance to touch those boots. I think a few of my guys might be
members.”

“Is that an ongoing thing in your line of work, Agent Dave?”
Becca asked. “The foot fetish thing. I thought it ended with J. Edgar.”

Chad liked the way they were immediately hitting it off. He
had known his family would love Becca. Now that Dave had met her, he’d have to
introduce her to his mom soon. She’d be thrilled that he’d finally found
someone he could love.

Dave turned toward him and Chad didn’t trust his brother’s
innocent smile. He pulled Becca into his arms and spun her around so her back
was to his chest.

“So, nice butt, great shoes and quick witted. She’s
perfect,” Dave said, giving Chad’s shoulder a little bump before he offered
Becca a look of mock seriousness. “So tell me, Miss Wiley. What the hell are
you doin’ with this jerk?”

“You know how it is with these tattoo chicks, bro. One way
or another, they’re determined to get under your skin.”

Chapter Eight

Becca opened one eye and looked at the glowing red numbers
of her bedside clock. Nine twenty-four. Unlike Chad’s bedroom of sleek
furniture and light sheers that did little to block out the brightness of the
day, her bedroom was dark as a cave. Heavy deep-purple silk panels covered the
double sliding door and the two large windows that made up the corner. It
hadn’t been the early morning light that interrupted her sleep.

Chad shifted behind her, pulling her closer into his
embrace. She’d learned his habits well. He didn’t think it was time to get up
yet either.

They’d had more than a dozen sleepovers before they were
forced to face a few realities. While the lovemaking was awesome and the
companionship filled voids they had pretended didn’t matter, periodically they
needed a few days to themselves. They didn’t have a set weekday schedule, but
Becca knew from Friday evening at midnight to Monday morning at ten o’clock,
Chad was all hers.

Her girlfriends told her she was a colossal idiot. That she
was giving him the opportunity to use those free nights to see other women. She
should reel him in while she had the chance. When Becca had brought up that
little thing called trust they rolled their eyes and told her she should use
her ex as an example to live by. She didn’t waste her breath telling them she’d
never use Vinnie as a model of anything. Ever.

The guys at the shop told her she was the coolest chick
ever, the only one on the planet who understood men needed time to watch
SportsCenter
on their own and beat off in the shower because nothing
really
felt
better than their fists. Becca had laughed her ass off at that statement. Then
wondered if it were true…and would she get a chance to watch.

Then the female tattoo artists at the shop told her
point-blank that if she fucked things up they were going to take a run at Chad
themselves. No hard feelings. At least she knew where she stood.

Becca snuggled her ass against his morning erection and
smiled. Their friendship segueing into a more intimate relationship had moved
with a speed that was scary. She remembered one night when she was waiting for
Chad at his house. Entrenched in the pages of a romantic suspense novel, she hadn’t
heard the elevator. When he swaggered into the room, she’d been horrified. She
hadn’t looked past the patch covering his eye to see he had made an attempt at
pirate garb. One of her fantasies, not his. All she had thought was an
exploding cork had possibly rendered him blind in one eye. She’d totally ruined
his surprise, but sweet man that he was, he plundered her booty all the same.

She and Chad being open about their sexual desires and
hard-core fantasies had refined their communication skills, which in turn
strengthened their everyday life. It certainly made for a less angst-filled
relationship. The trust and respect they shared rose to a higher level, one
that surpassed anything Becca had dreamed of. The only thing that dwarfed it
was her love for him. She exhaled, wondering how in the world she’d gotten so
lucky.

“That deep sigh means you’re thinking too much,” Chad
whispered. “You’re supposed to be pretending it’s still night. You’re asleep.
And someone’s just crawled into your bed.”

“And he’s got a Three Bears kind of boner? The one that fits
me just right?” Becca whispered back.

“Shhhh. No bestiality talk, Goldilocks.”

She laughed and stacked her palms together before slipping
them under her pillow, just like every female B-movie star did before the
intruder or monster or serial killer made his way into her bedroom.

Becca and Chad had never discussed a serial killer fantasy,
and as far as she knew he didn’t have a pair of fake fangs stashed in his
nightstand. She figured the morning intruder would probably be human. With
deep-blue eyes she’d never get tired of looking into. And a rich laugh that
always made her smile in return.

Chad waited so long Becca started to get drowsy again. When
he yanked her arms over her head and captured her wrists she actually jumped.
Fingers drifted over her hip and up her rib cage. His large, warm hand covered
her bare breast. He kneaded, plumped her flesh, never touching her nipple and
she shifted her hips, silently telling him she was ready for more. But she knew
he could read her without prompts.

His hand drifted to her other breast, repeated the same
teasing motions until her nipples were hard and aching. He grazed her tight nub
with the back of his hand and Becca’s intake of breath echoed through the
silent room.

Back and forth he went, using little flicks against her
nipples that sent quick jolts to her pussy and firm steady pinches which sent
rolls of desire through her entire body. His erection grew harder and she tried
to pull her hands free, wanting nothing more than to reach behind her and
stroke his thick cock while his fingers got her off.

They’d done that before, both of them stimulated each other
with only their hands until they’d orgasmed together. It had been over the top
and so hot, it was a wonder they hadn’t done it again.

But this time, he wasn’t releasing her. His hand drifted
down her stomach and she held her breath, waiting for him to make a beeline for
the thin arrow of hair that led to her already-slick folds. His fingers teased
her navel, as if he knew exactly where her star tattoo was. He’d explored her
naked body as if he were charting a course for new lands. He had traced every
tattoo at one time or another and probably had kissed them all.

Warmth permeated her torso. Becca had to get away from the
heat radiating from his body or she thought she’d ignite. She slid her hips
away from him so she could roll onto her back. Still, he didn’t release her
arms and she arched her back, thrusting her breasts upward, aching for him to
touch them. He ignored the offering.

Becca planted her feet on the mattress and raised her hips,
trying to scoot lower on the bed to bring her nipples closer to his mouth but
he held her firm. Without warning, his hand dove between her thighs and
squeezed her engorged pussy. She ground against his palm, the pressure he’d
finally exerted nearly making her come.

“I love when you do that,” she said.

“Is that really something you’d tell someone who just broke
into your house?”

“Only if he had a hot body and a tongue that never gets tired,”
she teased, turning her head to look into his face.

“You’re a harlot.” His words lost a lot of their bite when
he offered her a wide smile. He lessened the pressure and Becca grunted her
disapproval.

“Yeah. But I’m
your
harlot.”

“Mmmm. Don’t I know it?” He stroked the cleft of her labia,
barely touching her, over and over again until she couldn’t stand the torment
and opened her legs wider, trying to give him more room to explore but he kept
his fingers right where they were. The wait was excruciating and Becca thrust
her hips upward. He eased one finger just inside her folds. He gathered her
wetness, scooping his finger upward until he reached her clit and pushed
lightly against the straining nub.

They had learned he could make her come just from staying
still. From letting the throbbing of her clit take her over the top. They
weren’t intense climaxes. And Chad seemed to love them more than Becca. The
first ripple started just below her pubic bone and radiated outward until it
consumed her entire pussy. Becca pulled her hips back a fraction of an inch, in
total control of when she’d come. She pushed against Chad’s finger again.

His breath tickled her ear in steady huffs. It was making
him hard and she kept the motion steady. She was getting close. A few more
touches.

Chad thrust his cock against her hip. It was iron hard and
the urge to have him in her as quickly as possible made her stop.

“Let me go,” she moaned, giving him a moment to release her
hands before she started to pull harder. “I’m not coming without you.”

“Yes you are,” he declared, his voice rough with desire. He
let go of her hands and was at the bottom of the bed in less than a heartbeat.
Her thighs protested as he pushed them wide. His thumbs bit into her labia and
pressed the skin upward, exposing her clit to his eyes. He blew a stream of
cool air over her clit, cooling the flesh but making it ache all the more.

Her mind clouded with desire, waiting for him to taste her.
Wetness dripped from her pussy and Becca moaned when his tongue flattened
against her sensitive skin. He licked her juices away with one broad upward
stroke. He reached her clit and held it there, letting her pulse against the
soft, wet heat of his mouth. He held her on the brink and she glanced down and
saw him staring. He eased his head back slowly until he was still touching her
but just with the tip of his tongue and her legs began to tremble. He’d learned
exactly what she liked. He flicked his tongue against her quickly until she was
panting.

“I thought you were going to make me come,” she groaned.

“Trying to goad me into finishing you off before I’m ready?”

He pulled away and rose up on his knees, leaving Becca
unfulfilled. She saw the fierce set of his jaw then glanced down at his cock.
It twitched against his abs and she tried to hide her smile. She really wasn’t
in a pleading mood. And Chad looked more than ready.

“You know there are other uses for that gorgeous mouth than
you smirking at me.” He plopped down onto his back. “Get on top.”

Becca rolled to her side and ran the tip of her finger
around his cock head. “Don’t you want me to—”

“Just get your ass up here,” he ordered. She threw a leg
over him and grabbed his cock, milking his flesh. She loved this position, not
because it forced him deeper, but because she knew Chad loved the view.

She wiggled his broad cock head between her inner lips,
slowly easing onto his shaft. He filled her and her inner muscles clenched
around his cock. He reached around her and massaged her ass. His fingers
gripped her cheeks and pulled them apart as he pressed her downward until their
bodies were meshed. One hand moved inward and a finger rimmed her anus,
tickling the puckered flesh until she wanted to beg him to press deeper.

Becca moaned and rocked her hips, grinding her clit against
him as he lifted his hips beneath her. She tilted her pelvis, knowing the
little shift of position would bring her quickly toward orgasm, wondering if he
was getting near.

His fingers bit into the flesh at her hip and Becca lost her
pace, crying out her frustration. In one smooth move Chad rolled them over,
repositioning their still-joined bodies. He dropped his elbows to the mattress
and took full control, thrusting quick and shallow.

The rhythm, the precise depth, both sent Becca careening
over the edge. She cried out her release, her inner muscles pulsating against
the pleasure. His breathing quickened and two strokes later his short, loud
grunts echoed through the room. He thrust into her again and held himself
still. Then thrust once more and collapsed on top of her.

She stroked his damp back, the outer curve of his hip and it
was his turn to let out a deep sigh.

“You drive me crazy, Becca. What kind of man can’t finish
the fantasies he dreams up?”

“You always finish the ones that are yours. It’s
mine
you suck at,” she teased, holding him tighter when he tried to move.

“So now you’re a complainer?” He flexed his glutes and his
cock jumped inside her. “How do I punish
that
?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. But just so you know, I
found this really kickass wooden spoon at Target that’s the size of my fist.
They say it’s for being able to stir huge stock pots but who knows.”

Chad snorted, then pushed himself up on his hands. “In a
second, I’m going to have to pull out.”

Their gazes locked and an eerie hush fell over her bedroom
as they both realized what they’d forgotten. He was a huge proponent of safe
sex. For him to go in bare was irresponsible. And for her not to realize it
before it had happened was just as bad. But she wasn’t about to panic.

“It’s okay. You know I’m on birth control. It’ll be fine.”

He eased his hips back and withdrew quickly before rolling
back against the pillows and drawing her into his embrace. “You sure?”

“I am. But next time it’s back to the added protection. I’m
a fan of kids. I just like it when they go home at night,” she joked. “I’d like
some of my own. Just not right now.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “When Dave’s son died, I
figured that was it for me. To go through that kind of pain? I don’t know how
he and Diane managed it.” His fingers wrapped around a length of her red hair.
He twisted it then let it fall into a loose ringlet. She could tell he had
something he wanted to say.

“And…?”

“And now I’m reevaluating.”

“Even after having met my nephews?” she teased, turning so
she could reach his stubbled jaw. She planted a kiss on the rough skin.

He smiled at her. “Even after meeting the pint-sized
conquerors, yes.”

He pressed his lips against her in a slow kiss, one that
warmed her all the way to her heart. He shifted his arms and leaned back,
propping his hands behind his head. She sighed, and reached up, running her
fingers along the nearly unperceivable outline of his Celtic knot.

“I want to hit this with some color soon. So you’ll be able
to see it in the daytime as well.”

“Sounds good, since we won’t be hitting the raves anytime
soon so I can see how it looks in motion.”

“We don’t need to rave,” she said, rolling to the side of
the bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked. His hand landed on the
mattress with a thump, just missing her as she quickly stood up.

Becca hurried to her closet, wondering why she hadn’t
thought of this sooner. She walked back to the bed with an old-fashioned
clip-on lamp. She reached down and plugged it into an outlet by the bed and
hooked it onto the headboard.