Jake

It’d been a week since we made the agreement – a week since she’d moved in with me. I knew I needed to get out if I wanted to save myself. I needed to get out of…this. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was punching me right in the balls.

I was falling for her.

Everything about her just drew me in, and I almost laughed out loud at the idea. She was the embodiment of the society I hated and turned my back away from. She was daddy’s little girl who got everything she needed and wanted. She never had to work a day in her life, didn’t know what ‘living paycheck to paycheck’ meant; She was the type to spend thousands of dollars on a single shopping spree. She couldn’t leave my loft without any make-up on. When I invited her to go out on a hike, she met me wearing a sundress and rubber slippers. She was so, so naïve. I should’ve been laughing at her. But I always found myself laughing with her.

She was naïve, but she was the most compassionate person I’d ever met. When I told her about how I pursued my passion instead of following my father’s success plan as we laid in bed once night, she was all ears and asked question after question, showing genuine interest with my life – my life, which wasn’t the type of life she deserved. I couldn’t take her out to the best restaurants in town. I needed to pay the bills for my loft and tattoo parlor, and I also had staff to pay. Instead, she suggested cooking meals together. Her excuse was she wanted to learn before college began, but I really appreciated her for doing so. I’d dated girls who kept demanding, demanding, and then demanding some more. But Becca, who had the right to demand for the life she was given, never demanded for anything…except for sex. She demanded I take away her virginity, and I milked it for all I could.

I met her as a virgin, but in a span of a week, she’d learned and grown so much; we were both learning new things together. She told me the body parts where she loved being touched and pleasured; I told her how she could get better at hand jobs – a tighter grip. She was always willing to learn, inside and outside the bedroom, and just her curiosity for life, and mine specifically, was making me fall into an abyss I knew I couldn’t get out of.

I wanted her to be completely mine; I didn’t want anyone else to have her; I wanted her all to myself, so much so that I wanted to mark her…permanently. I wanted to draw a permanent masterpiece on her, one that told the world she was mine. It was such a dangerous thought, and I almost smirked outright at the irony. People always told me I was a dangerous man – they’d judged me just because of the ink on my body. I was learning now that virgin girls in pink dresses and satin sandals could be equally dangerous as well.

“You like that, huh?”

Her soothing, feminine voice instantly cut my train of thought, and I turned the machine off and put away the needle. I gave myself an internal reminder to get a new one later. If I left the needle out too long, it’d be bad to continue to use it.

“Hmmm?” I said, pushing myself off my chair and learning towards her for a quick peck.

I then leaned backwards and admired her. She was getting just her hip bone tattooed but she was completely naked on the chair. I knew I was supposed to focus just on her hip, but I was so very tempted to ignore the bone and just go in for the pussy, not with the needle of course – my finger. Even better, my dick.

“When I play with your hair,” she was quick to respond, and I forced myself to keep the throbbing feeling in my jeans at bay. The erection could wait for later. I needed to actually finish her tattoo. “You always look like a cat trying to nuzzle your head closer to me.” Before I could say something, she added, “But I like it…no, I love it.”

“It’s comforting, yeah,” I said, edging my lips into a smile. I was the guy women were warned about. Suffice to say, there wasn’t a line of people wanting to play with my hair and cuddle with me. They always expected me to be rough and dirty. Sex with me wasn’t about rainbows and butterflies; it was rough, hard, and the kind not everyone could handle. And the thought of Becca right now, stroking my hair, warmed me to my core. She could do all she wanted to me. “It also makes me sleepy, and you wouldn’t want that right now.”

I stretched the skin of her hip bone, admiring my art on her body. The butterfly design was halfway done, and when I looked at the clock and then saw the smirk on Becca’s face, I knew why she had that look.

“Well, if you didn’t keep stopping to kiss me…everywhere…we’d probably be done right now,” she teased, eliciting an adorable laugh, and then, her tone sobered up slightly. “This is amazing…I love the textures of the lines…and it isn’t even done yet…wow.”

“Of course, it’s done by me,” I said, leaning forward again, this time to bite her ear.

“See, what did I just say? We’re really never going to finish. We’re going to be here all night, Jake,” she responded, slapping my shoulder teasingly. My insides melted at that face of hers. Her smile was definitely her best feature although she wanted it to be her breasts.

“Are you complaining?” I couldn’t help but add a raised eyebrow to that.

Before she responded, I already knew what her answer was going to be.

“Of course, not. Now, hurry up,” she said, squeezing her legs together, and when I stared at her, it was her turn to give me a kiss. “I’m getting horny. Lying here naked definitely doesn’t help.”

Fuck. I pressed my growing erection against the chair, trying to control it, but it was futile. There was no way I could think with my head instead of my dick with a naked Becca right in front me.

For the tattoo. Finish it. I tried to kid myself. I shook my head, pushing all thoughts of sex to the back of my head temporarily. Then, I reached for a brand-new needle, stuck it into the tattoo gun, and put all my effort into focusing on getting the butterfly completed. I needed to do it justice, the art was a memory of her mother. ‘My little butterfly’ – that was her mother’s nickname for her when she was still alive. I needed to do it justice; I needed to do my best – for the woman right in front of me.

I didn’t know how long I took; I didn’t care to look at the clock. All I knew was that after being stuck in the room for so long – admittedly, partly my fault for the temptress in front of me – I finally finished the butterfly, and I couldn’t be any prouder. We spent the whole night yesterday coming up with different variations of Becca’s inspiration image. I’d shown her almost ten hand drawn butterfly designs and kept refining them until there was one she not only liked but fell in love with. She was going to have it on her skin forever; she needed to love it. Now that it was done, she had the widest smile on her face, and it made me equally ecstatic to know I was the reason for her smiling.

“Thank you…so, so much,” she said, almost losing her breath towards the end of her sentence. “Just wow…it’s even much better on my skin than on paper.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I said, putting my equipment away and giving her my full attention. There was no way I’d let her start dressing up when I had her naked on a chair for hours. No way. “And now…”

She turned her eyes away from her hip bone to find me grinning mischievously at her. Before she knew it, I’d pulled her into my arms, her legs encircling my waist, and pushed her down on the table right beside the chair. Both of us becoming extremely impatient, our hands worked together to unbuckle and unzip my jeans. With one strong arm, she pushed my boxers all the way done, and I smirked when her eyes widened at the sight of my erection.

“Now,” she said, propping her elbows on the table and spreading her legs out wide. I was a bit shocked when she wanted to get right to it, but my questions were answered as I began to glide my dick in smoothly inside her. She was so fucking wet. There was no need to finger or tease her or start with foreplay. We’d have time for sweet and romantic in bed later. Right now, we were going to have it quick, easy, and rough – a different side to the both of us.

“F-fuck…y-you,” she tried breathing, as I pumped in and out in front of her. I felt like the table was going to give out anytime soon, but to hell with that, just her wetness was ready to make finish now. “Sex with you just keeps getting better and better.”

“It takes two,” I said, as I crashed my lips against hers and added some teeth. She moaned at the roughness and held onto me tighter.

“R-Jake…I’m gonna com-I’m gonna come…”

“Me too,” I said, biting on her bottom lip. “Together.”

And with that, I pounded into her much faster now, and she clung to me as if her life depended on it.

We were only week in. I never wanted the next three weeks to come. I wanted her, all to myself, forever.