Back at the tattoo shop, Art parked the bike around the side of the building.

Nerves flitted around Tess’s stomach. Tentative bridges had been built between them over the last few hours, and she was worried she was about to blow them up, but she didn’t have any choice. She needed to talk to him.

She climbed off the bike and handed him the helmet. “Thanks for the ride, Art. I hate to take up any more of your time, but do you have ten minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ve not got my next client for another hour.”

“Oh, good. Umm, ‘cause the thing is, that meeting wasn’t just with my solicitor. I had a financial advisor there, too.”

He stared at her, daring her to continue, so she did.

“I know I mentioned increasing the rent on the shop, but the financial advisor said the sum I suggested was still way under what’s normally charged to rent a property in this location. He also says I’m going to have a fair chunk of tax which is going to need to be paid, and I’m not going to be able to afford to do it on the rent you currently pay.”

Art continued to stare at her, the helmet dangling from one hand. His eyebrows drew together in a frown. “What are you saying?”

She bit her lower lip, already sensing this wasn’t going to go in the right direction. “That I may need to put the rent up on the shop more than I previously said.”

“What the fuck, Theresa?” He spat out her full name. “Are you trying to screw my life over?”

She reeled back. “No, of course not. I’m just telling you what the financial advisor said—that you’re getting this place for a price far lower than anywhere else in this neighbourhood.”

“So you’re gonna put me out of business?”

“No, I didn’t say that—”

“Are you trying to take everything from me? Just see me out on the streets? I bet that would suit you, wouldn’t it? You probably think that’s what someone as rough as me deserves. Don’t they have real men wherever the hell you come from?”

The mention of men back home felt like a knife to her heart. It hurt and she wanted to hurt him in return.

“Real men?” she snapped. “I knew a real man, and he wasn’t someone who had to prove how tough he was by covering himself in ink.”

Art stepped forward, reducing the space between them. She swallowed, hard, her breath catching. He was twice her bodyweight, and he could easily overpower her. The wall of the building was directly behind her back, and from this position down the side of the property, no one passing by could see them. Art moved in so close, she could feel his breath against her cheek and throat.

He growled in her ear. “My ink has nothing to do with what makes me a man. My ink is what makes me human. It’s my passion. It’s art.”

He lifted his hand and took hold of her jaw, tilting her face to the side. Tess’s breath caught in her chest. The atmosphere had suddenly changed. The anger had morphed to something else, simmering between them.

“What about your skin, Tess? What does it say about you? That you’re clean, and pure? Or does it say you’re bland and boring?”

Her heart thumped, her blood fizzing in her veins. “You have no idea what my skin says about me.”

“No? I guess I haven’t seen enough of it yet.” With one rough movement, he yanked the collar of her shirt to one side, exposing her shoulder. Her top button pinged off and the next two popped free. “What about here?” His thumb ran over her collarbone. “Unblemished. Perfect.”

Where his thumb traced her skin, a trail of goose bumps erupted in its wake. She took a tremulous breath, her nipples crinkling, a thrill of excitement racing down, between her thighs. She should be pushing him away—this man she barely knew—but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I think I’d like to taste this skin.”

Her breath caught. “Art, please, no.”

“I don’t think you mean that, Tess. I bet your nipples are so fucking hard, they’re begging for it all by themselves. I’d like to find that out for myself.”

He moved closer again, pinning her body with his bulked frame. She wouldn’t have been able to get away, even if she’d wanted to, which she didn’t. He finished tracing the collarbone on her left side, and moved to the right, slipping the shirt from her shoulders, so it now hung half off her body. She used her fingers to pin the sleeves to her wrists, not wanting to let him see her completely naked. He said her skin was unblemished, but he had no idea what he was talking about.

This time, instead of using his thumb to stroke across her skin, he lowered his mouth and lightly used his tongue to trace a line. Tess couldn’t help but give a little whimper, feeling like she was going to melt in his grasp. His tongue was hot and wet, but the trail grew cold in the air as his mouth made its way to her throat and his lips met the tender skin there. He kissed the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder and then nipped her skin, making her gasp. One hand reached up to lace in her hair at her nape, while the other slipped inside the front of her shirt and cupped her breast through her bra. His thumb grazed over one hardened bud and he took a breath of satisfaction.

“I told you your nipples would be hard. Is your pussy wet, too?”

“Art!” Her mind spun, unsure if she was panicked or turned on. “We can’t do this!”

“Stop talking, Tess.”

Tess stood there, her hands by her side, as Art kissed her neck in a way she’d never been kissed before. His fingers knotted tight in her hair, forcing her head to one side to give him more room. Her body responded to him, heat and wetness flooding between her thighs, her nipples hard, sensitized pebbles. His palm slipped inside the lace of her bra, his hand hot against her flesh. She felt dizzy with desire, her body arching against him, wanting more of him.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

Finally, he left her throat. His mouth crushed down hard against hers, and his tongue pushed into her mouth. Her hands finally came to life and she reached for him, her palms slipping over his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles of his back. Her mind flashed up images of him naked. How much of his body was tattooed, or pierced?

Art broke the kiss and dragged her out of the alley, half pushing her towards the back door of her building.

“In here,” he growled.

They bundled through the back door, and managed to make it to the stairs leading to the flat above. Art shoved her up against the wall once more.

He tried to tear the shirt from her arms, but panic shot through her and she pulled away. She distracted him by undoing the button and zipper of her trousers instead. His eyes were dark with lust, his expression hungry and fierce.

Art yanked down her pants and underwear in one go, and she did a strange hop and dance as she toed off her ankle boots, and he pulled the clothes from her feet. Then he dropped to his knees and was between her legs. He leaned in, his nose pressing against the small patch of curls on her mound, his mouth on her pussy.

“Oh, God.” She’d never imagined ten minutes ago that things were going to take a turn in this direction.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched her like this. Things between her previous boyfriend and her hadn’t been physical in the end, and she’d been okay with that. It wasn’t like she hadn’t missed it—she had, but it simply hadn’t been there for reasons neither of them could do anything about. Now, with this big, tough guy’s head between her thighs, his fingers and tongue separating her and spearing inside her, she found herself growing heady. This was like the ride on the bike all over again. Art was opening her up, both mentally and physically, reminding her how it felt to really live.

He removed his head from between her thighs and pulled her down onto the stairs with him. He kissed her mouth, so she tasted herself on his lips. She reached for him, wanting to feel him as well. His cock was hard beneath his jeans, a thick, rigid line. Her fingers ached to hold him. How big would he be? Big enough to excite her and terrify her in equal measures. She tugged at his belt, yanking it open, then pulled down his zipper. His jeans dropped from his hips, and his cock sprang out towards her. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

She wrapped her fingers around his length and pumped him a couple of times, watching his face for his reaction. His eyes slipped shut, and his lower lip fell slack as she masturbated him.

Art stepped away, dislodging her hold, then reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out the square shape of a condom packet.  

What guy carries condom packets around in the inside pocket of his jacket?

He was clearly a player, though her mind went to the drawings of the woman she’d found the previous night. Hell, she didn’t care. She just wanted him, wanted to give into her primal needs for once. She’d already done something crazy by jumping on a plane and moving to a strange country, so why not continue the madness by getting fucked on the stairs by a guy who was only ever going to be bad news.

He approached her again, taking hold of her waist and flipping her around, so her knees were on one tread, her elbows on the one a couple of steps up. It occurred to her that they could climb the stairs and end up in a perfectly comfortable bed, but she didn’t want to break whatever whirlwind of lust they’d been caught up in. Someone from the shop might walk through at any moment—Rocco or Kane, or one of the clients looking for the bathroom.

She didn’t care.

She looked over her shoulder to see him expertly rolling the rubber down the length of his erect cock. Just seeing him holding himself was enough to send desire coursing through her veins. He got to his knees behind her, grabbing one hip as he positioned himself. Tess edged her legs apart, gasping as his cock pressed against her opening.

He penetrated her then pushed deep.

Tess let out a groan and hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. It felt blissful to be filled and stretched so perfectly. He reached around her body, his fingers finding her clit. She was already swollen and sensitized from when he’d been licking her, and she was right on the brink of orgasm. He rubbed her clit in little circles as he pulled out and slammed into her again.

Pleasure had her in its grip, focusing every thought and feeling in her body on the sweet spot between her thighs. Her breathing grew laboured. Art was panting behind her.

His fingers dug hard into her hips as he thrust deep. His movements grew faster and faster, their skin slapping together. She was climbing towards her peak, knowing he wasn’t far either.

Her orgasm hit her suddenly, tensing every muscle, her pussy contracting around him. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body shuddering as pleasure rolled through her in wave after wave.

Over her shoulder, Art let out a groan and he held himself deep, his cock jerking inside her.

He slumped across her back, engulfing her with his large frame, his breathing laboured against her. The sex had been hard and fast, and insanely satisfying. A rush of relaxed euphoria swept through her. She didn’t know how that had happened, but she was glad it had.

Art slipped from her body, and got to his feet, quickly knotting the end of the used condom and wrapping it in a tissue. She turned to him with a shy smile, but his brow was furrowed in a frown, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, not meeting her eye. “I don’t know what came over me.”

‘Sorry’ wasn’t exactly the first thing she wanted to hear after she’d just had sex with someone. What was she supposed to say to that?

“It’s fine,” she managed, feeling the two words were woefully inadequate. Telling him that was the first time she’d been properly fucked in over two years felt way too heavy, and so ‘it’s fine’ was what popped out.

“Yeah, course,” he said, shaking his head slightly, as though trying to pull himself from a daydream. He reached down and grabbed her clothes. She’d managed to keep her shirt and bra on, thank goodness.

He offered the clothes to her, and she quickly pulled on the bottom half of her outfit, before picking up her boots. Art had already put himself back together, so other than the slightly confused look on his face, he looked as though nothing had happened.

“I’ve got a client arriving soon,” he muttered. “I should really get going.”

Tess’s cheeks burned hot with mortification, and she only wanted to escape upstairs and slam the door on the whole thing. What on earth had she been thinking? How did a conversation about the rent end up with him screwing her senseless on the stairs?

“Yeah, of course,” she managed, clutching the rest of her things. “I’ve got to go and do.... stuff, too.”

He bobbed in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, before turning and fleeing into the shop.

Tess just about wanted to die. That kiss on the cheek had been about the most awkward thing she’d ever experienced in her life. It would have been better if he’d walked away without the kiss. It had felt to her he’d done it because he thought that was what was expected after a man had sex with a woman.

Holding her boots in one hand, she ran up the stairs and slammed her way back into the apartment, shutting the door behind her. She wished he wasn’t right downstairs. She wanted to forget about him, not have him wandering around directly below her.

She put her hands over her face. What the hell had she been thinking, allowing a guy she barely knew to screw her on the stairs?

That had been one huge mistake.