INKED 8: A Tattoo Shop Reverse Harem

The first brush of his finger against my pussy makes want to sigh, but I bite the inside of my cheek instead. Then there’s hotter, rough pressure on my clit, and I realize he’s replaced his finger with his mouth.

Oh God, it feels good. The piercing in this tongue flicks against me in the same way as his brothers. I want to widen my legs and give him easier access, but I don’t. I’m a puppet and he’s pulling my strings. He’s the one with the control, and I’m just a docile participant. He’s an invader to my home, taking what he wants.

For a moment, I consider whether it’s me with the kink here? The idea that a man could sneak into my bedroom and take advantage of me has my pussy squeezing between my legs. Is it wrong to be aroused by this? I guess one thing I’ve learned through all of this experience is that no two people experience sex the same way. We all have different triggers and fantasies, and that’s okay. As long as we respect the people we’re involved with and we don’t hurt anyone in the process, anything goes.

My body wants to tremble with arousal, and it takes every ounce of control for me to preserve the fantasy, but then Dex adds a finger, and I’m gone. The pleasure swallows me, and my legs trap his hand inside me as wave upon wave of pure contracting heat steals my voice.

The soft kiss that Dex presses to my lips brings me around. “That was hotter than hell,” he whispers, grinning.

“It was,” I whisper. “It really was, but you know what would be hotter?”

“Tell me,” he says, dark brown eyes searching mine.

“If you take off your clothes and get on this bed with me right now.” I grab the front of his shirt to illustrate the point.

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughs. When he tugs off his shirt in one motion, I notice that he has an identical snake tattoo to his brother’s, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. Where Nash, Niall, and Noah have tried to create differences between them, Lex and Dex have attempted to preserve their similarity. He unfastens his hair, letting the glossy brown strands fall around his face. There’s something warrior-like about Dex. Something a little more dangerous than his twin.

Maybe it’s to do with what I know about his fantasy. It’s darker and edgier, and that fits with his character. He’s the one who started the game. The one prepared to push boundaries.

“Everything,” I say, nodding at his jeans. I’m intrigued to see if he really is identical to his brother in every way.

And it turns out he is.

But only skin deep.

I guess the way we fuck isn’t genetic.

Where Lex was gentle, Dex is rough. There’s a bite to his grip, force behind the way he fucks into me, flipping us from one position to another until I’m dizzy with it. There’s pain in the way he pulls my hair when he’s fucking me from behind and heat in the speed with which he thrusts. There’s desperation there that feels different too. When we’re spent, he wraps me in his arms and holds me against his chest. We don’t talk, just dwell in the after. So many words dance on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say them.

I don’t tell Dex that my heart is aching. I don’t tell him that I want him to stay so that we can talk more about music and start to dream about the things that could happen between us when the sun rises and a whole new day of opportunity presents itself.

I don’t tell him that each of the men from Ink Factor has left an imprint on me that I can’t seem to shake. Or that I lie awake at night wondering how I’m ever going to move on when the game is done.

No man is going to live up to this experience. Just the thought of being with someone else fills me with dread and disgust.

It surprises me when Dex’s breathing changes, and I realize that he’s fallen asleep. Apart from the first night with Lex, it hasn’t happened on any of the other dates, but I guess this is the first time it’s not me who has to get up to leave for the date to be over. The first time since I decided that falling asleep with each of the men would only make this experience harder.

Turning in his arms, I map his face, committing his peaceful beauty to memory. Dex is the man who saw how trapped I was in my past experiences and wanted to find a way to free me, and he has in a way.

But in another way, I feel more shackled than I ever have before.