Inked Ever After (2 page)

“Total havoc,” James muttered. Grown men trembled at the
sight of Jack’s jaw pulsing, but apparently, it didn’t do shit to Elle. The
crazy girl enjoyed poking him. Like pulling at a tiger’s tail for shits and
giggles wasn’t fucked-up enough that she had to show him her tongue while she was
at it.

“I bet you think it’s my fault, with Elle being my sister
and all, but you have to agree that Jack is not Mr. Congeniality,” Tate said,
turning to James.

“And thank God for it, because neither is your sister. She
may smile like an angel, but she doesn’t pull her punches. She’d eat Mr.
Congeniality alive.”

“True. Maybe getting them to be maid of honor and best man
wasn’t the greatest of ideas.”

“Don’t worry. They make it through the rehearsal dinner and
the wedding reception unscathed, we’re good,” he said.

“You know, we have our birth certificates ready at home.
Let’s do humanity a favor, find a justice of the peace, and elope.”

James chuckled. “Not a chance, princess. Besides, there
isn’t a justice of the peace in the whole of Massachusetts who would marry a
girl who can barely stand upright.”

“Sure?”

He shook his head, amused, and keeping one arm on her back
and curling the other under her knees, he stood up. “Let’s get you home,
gorgeous. You’re dead on your feet, and you’re wasted.”

His friends and brothers could hack it without him; he was
done—his woman too.

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Hoping to get me alone to have
your wicked way with me?”

“I love fucking you, baby. That time in the garage with the
swivel chair and the rope proved beyond any doubt that taking you when you’re
drunk is even more earth-shattering than usual, but you’re totally smashed. I’m
not too big on you puking on me.”

She pouted. “I’m not that drunk.”

“I’ll make you a deal, princess: if you make it home without
passing out, I’ll bend you over the sofa and give it to you again and again
until your voice is gone from screaming my name. This time you’ll have to bury
your face in a pillow, though.”

“Such a gentleman,” she said with a laugh, hanging on to him
tight.

“Not having the cops show up again, baby.”

“Aww, but wasn’t it sweet for old Mrs. Ramsden to worry
about your safety?”

“Ha-ha,” he muttered as she dissolved into giggles.

He loved seeing her like this, relaxed and joking and not stressed
out, withdrawn, and sad like she’d increasingly been as the wedding date
approached.

It seemed that of all the wedding-related events they were
dealing with, the bachelorette party was the only one that didn’t have her on
the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Alcohol, of course, had a lot to do with that.

Maybe he should keep her in a steady supply of mojitos.

As they reached his car, she kissed his jaw. “Thanks for
coming to get me.”

“Always, baby. Besides, your sis was organizing this
shindig, and she’s a fucking menace.” Not to mention that since agreeing to
marry him, Tate had been staying at his place in Alden. No way was he sleeping
without her. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could.

“You telling me you’re scared of Elle’s parties?”

“What do you think? The last party she threw for you, you
came home with an inflatable cock on your head as a tiara, totally drunk,
singing ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!’ and carrying a huge basket full of sex toys.”

Not that he’d objected to sex toys, but when his woman came
home fully loaded and talking nonsense about being forced to fly solo after the
wedding, well, he’d fucking worried.

“It was a pleasure party, James. The consultant gave me
those sex toys as a present in case married life doesn’t work for me and I need
to take matters into my own hands.”

Yeah, right, like that would ever happen.

“In hindsight,” she mumbled to herself, “she did say she was
getting a divorce, so she may have been biased.”

“And the ball gag? Care to explain that one?”

She smirked, her silver eyes flashing, and whispered into
his ear, “Ah, the ball gag
I
bought.
You’re too bossy—wouldn’t hurt for you to be quiet from time to time.”

James burst into laughter. “Dream on, princess.”

* * * *

The light spilling into the bedroom woke Tate. Squinting,
she reached toward the nightstand and clumsily patted until she found her
phone. Two p.m. Damn, almost the whole day was gone.

She sat up slowly, thrilled and surprised to find that
although her mouth was dry as sandpaper and her eyes felt caked, she didn’t have
a hangover. She looked down at herself; she didn’t remember coming home or
changing, but she had on one of James’s T-shirts. Careful not to disturb her
man, who was still asleep beside her, she got out of bed and went to the
bathroom to pee and brush her teeth. Once there, she went about getting rid of
her raccoon eyes and taming her big hair. The former she accomplished. The
latter not so much. Whatever. The eighties retro look was back, right?

On her way out, the wedding magazines on the counter caught
her eye, and her stomach clenched. She was supposed to try on wedding dresses
in two days. She shook those thoughts away; no need to panic yet.

She’d have made a beeline to the kitchen for the coffeemaker
but got sidetracked by the sight of James sprawled on the bed, the sheets
bunched low on his hips, one of his legs cocked out. God, he was gorgeous. He’d
put any other man to shame, hands down. Rugged and sexy, his shaggy dark blond
hair falling over his forehead, his harsh, masculine features somehow softened
by sleep. So frigging handsome. His body, lean and muscular, with thick veins
running along his powerful limbs, was just as breathtaking.

And so were his tattoos. In spite of all her early
prejudices, she’d grown to love them. So much so that she couldn’t fathom him
without ink. They were a big part of him. His Japanese-style green dragon
taking up all of his right arm from shoulder to wrist, the oriental symbols on
the left side of his abs, the silver eyes under his sternum, the inscription at
his nape. To celebrate Tate agreeing to marry him, he’d added a sexy tribal leg
band on his thigh that had something to do with love and the circle of life.
Under the silver eyes on his chest, he’d gotten the quote from Julius Caesar,
the one about coming, seeing, and conquering, which was rather insulting and
not exactly what had happened, but whatever. It was just flat-out gorgeous.
Like the man wearing it.

Before she even realized she’d moved, she was straddling him
and nuzzling his chest. She loved the feel and the smell of him. And his
taste—man, soap, and sun. Addictive, really.

“Are you molesting me, princess?” His low voice rumbled in
the quiet room.

She looked up into his stunning hazel eyes, and although
they were still a bit drowsy, she was mesmerized. Never mind how breathtaking
his body was, it could not hold a candle to the person inside. His mind, his
wit, his heart. It all shone out of him with such strength it was overwhelming.

Fighting to break the spell, she let out a soft snort.
“Molesting you? After all the times I’ve woken up with your dick shoved deep
inside me? Please, this is nothing. And I don’t think one can molest the
willing,” she finished, deliberately pressing herself against his massive
hard-on, which was by now throbbing between her open folds.

“You may have a point there.” He offered her a heated
once-over and then settled on her face again, a smile tugging at his lips. “You
look…interesting.”

She winced. “Cute interesting or
oh-my-God-you-stuck-your-fingers-in-a-socket interesting?”

James said nothing, just laughed.

Maybe she should have tried harder to tame the beast. “That
bad, huh?”

He tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears, his
eyes shimmering with amusement, and shook his head. “You’re fucking beautiful, princess.
Like always. You aren’t hungover?”

“Nope. Paige is the shit. Don’t know what she puts in those
mojitos of hers, but whatever it is, she needs to patent it.” After a whole
night of guzzling them down, she should by all rights have a splitting headache.
Instead, here she was, moving lower on him and tracing his nipples with her
mouth, all her girlie parts tingling in anticipation, liquid heat rushing to
her folds.

She stroked his rock-hard stomach, dusting kisses over him,
and then reached down to the sheet, slowly freeing his hard-on, which was
getting more and more impressive by the second.

“I fell asleep yesterday on the way home, right?”

“Yep.”

“Damn, I was so looking forward to the sofa.
And
the swivel chair,” she muttered,
chagrined as she heard his chuckles.

“Such a greedy little thing you are.”

Yes, she was. When it came to James, she hadn’t had enough.
Would never have enough.

She leaned over and brushed her lips over his length,
breathing his musky scent in, marveling at how warm and hard and velvety he
felt.

She lifted her gaze to him and swept her tongue over the
engorged veins running along his shaft, her desire spiking as he tensed and his
erection jerked against her mouth.

“Do you want me, princess? Do you want my cock?”

She nodded, moistening her lower lip with her tongue and
watching his eyes darken and his expression tighten. She was dying to have him
in her mouth.

“Shirt off. I want you naked when you suck me.”

Before she could obey, he’d jackknifed and was yanking the
shirt over her head.

“Your panties will have to go too,” he ordered. “I want your
pussy bare to my gaze, open and dripping, ready for me to pet it and fuck it,
not soaking the material.”

Too late
, she
thought. The crotch of her panties was already wet, not that she’d say
anything.

“And I want to see that sexy clit ring of yours poking from
between your folds. Get rid of the panties, or they’re history.”

“Bossy,” she muttered, but all she got in response was an
unapologetic smirk. And damn him, instead of taking offense at being ordered
around, her traitorous body shivered in need, her core pulsing and flexing
expectantly.

She got out of bed, made a show of pushing her panties down,
and then went back to him on her hands and knees.

“Fuck, you’re killing me, princess,” James said on a deep
groan, his eyes flashing with lust.

It was good that she could affect him as much as he did her;
it gave her an edge, and boy, did she need one.

She grabbed him from the base and kissed the tip of his
cock, lapping at his slit and swallowing the pearls of precum on it.

James cursed, then cursed some more as she teased the
underside of his crown.

“Take me in.”

His harsh tone, although laced with need, brooked no
argument, and she obeyed right away. She took him into her mouth, licking and
sucking his magnificent cock, reveling in his shudders and his hoarse intakes
of breath. In the way he grew even bigger under her ministrations. How he
little by little lost control.

“Jesus, Tate, your mouth is so hot. So fucking good wrapped
around my cock.”

He watched her intently, sinking his fingers into her hair
and directing her movements until with a growl he gripped her head and made her
stop. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” she asked, confused, looking up at him.

He was breathing hard, the cords at either side of his neck
standing out, eyes ablaze. “Show me how much you want me.”

Tate rose on her knees, spread her legs a little, and parted
her pussy with one hand. Her swollen flesh was wet, her clit ring glistening with
her juices. “See for yourself, baby. I want you—a lot. I can’t wait to have you
inside me.”

He hissed. Under his fierce and hungry stare, her lower
stomach contracted sharply, and a soft moan escaped her throat. Unable to
resist, she slipped a finger inside, her pussy eagerly clamping around it.
Wanting more. God, she needed him. As she slowly pulled back, he seized her
hand and brought it to his mouth, licking her finger clean.

“My pirate princess tastes fucking sweet,” he said, and
lifting her by her waist, he moved her forward over his head. “Sit on my face.
You’re getting my mouth; then you’re getting my cock.”

She tried to complain. After all, she had been the one
running the show, but there was no complaining with James. Whatever he wanted,
he got—always. And she’d made her peace with that. Not to mention it turned her
on too.

“So beautiful, baby. All of you.” He opened her bare core
and stared at it. “So pink and smooth and juicy. Dying to eat you.”

He took a long swipe from her entrance to her already
quivering clit, where he tugged at her ring.

“This is the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” James
rumbled against her pussy. “Been fucking you for almost a year. Still gets me
every damn time.”

“You bought it for me.” Long before he’d given her an
engagement ring, as if he’d been claiming her as his own from the start.

His harsh chuckle slamming against her heated flesh almost
had her coming right then and there. “Damn right. Not having my woman wearing a
clit ring she’d used to entice other guys.”

Like it ever worked as well with anyone else. She was about
to fire a retort back, but she was already in too much sensory overload, so
when he fastened his mouth around her clit and sucked, she could do nothing but
grip the headboard in front of her and whimper pitifully.

“James—”

Her legs were trembling so badly she could barely stay
upright.

They locked eyes, and what she saw in his knocked the wind
out of her. The stark passion. The need. “Let yourself go, baby. Come for me.
Come in my mouth.”

Jeez, she loved this man. And not just because he fucked
like a god.

He reached around her thighs and spread her totally open,
lapping at her and fucking her deep with his tongue. Sucking her clit.
Fingering her core. Massaging her back door with tight little circles.