The Tattoo Artist's Mate

Isla blinked. He stood straight and stared at her. Testing her determination maybe? Was naked necessary? Maybe not, but if he wanted her like that, then naked she would be. Slowly, and with more provocation than she knew she had, she moved her buttons from their holes. A hiss of exhaled breath from Gaspar, the glitter in his eyes showed that he was aroused by her actions. Spurred on by that, she wriggled her butt and slipped her shirt off her shoulders to let it slide to the floor, then undid her bra and dropped it on top of the shirt.

“Fuck it, so fucking arousing and I’m as hard as a rock.” Gaspar moved his hands to the snap of his jeans. “I need you, bare ass uppermost, across my lap, like now. Last one naked is a wuss.”

Iona laughed and unzipped her skirt to kick it away as at the same time, Gaspar kicked his jeans off and pulled his t-shirt over his head. They shucked underwear together as if they were in synchronicity.

“Now, my pet.” Gaspar sat on the hard chair and beckoned to her. “Color?”

“Green, Sir.”

He let out a long whoosh of breath. “Thank goodness. Across my lap, please.”

This was it. Isla counted to three. She could call red at any time. Carefully, and not without a lot of awkwardness, she bent down and wriggled until her clit rested across his thighs and her boobs hung pendulous and aching in the air.

“Like this, Sir?”

“Shit, Isla, pet, that is a sight to be revered and cherished,” Gaspar said in a strangled voice. “All that would make it better is for those luscious globes of your ass to be red and show my handprint. Are you ready to see if I can take you to your special place? To show you how to fly. Ready to embrace the pain and let it flow into pleasure?”

“I am, Sir. Green and ready.”

Brave words, and she wasn’t so sure she meant them as the first, firm touch of his hand on her ass brought tears to her eyes. It did fucking hurt. The soft rub of his palm over the spot he’d spanked her helped a little, but… sod it, I cannot cry red after one spank. I will not.

“Okay?”

“Still green.” Dammit, was she a wuss? Not anymore. “Really green,” she added.

“Then count to five.”

Smack.

“O…One.”

Then that erotic stroke over her skin and… “Two … three…” It didn’t hurt, it stung. “Four … five… Oh…”

“More, my pet?”

“Sir, oh please, yes, Sir.”

He laughed softly. “Soon you’ll fly, and I’ll hold onto you, Keep you safe…”

Chapter Six

Watching his pet fly was the most cock-hardening, pre-cum inducing thing ever. Gaspar sat on the settee with his little subby curled up on his lap. He’d covered her with a blanket and made her sip some water and nibble some chocolate, before he’d cuddled her close and watched her as she murmured “nice … love…” and drifted off to sleep.

She might be all soft and comfortable. Gaspar certainly was not. His dick was still in fuck mode, his bear growling to get out, or at least mate and make her his, and every bloody nerve of his body screaming for release.

Comfortable—not. Content? Sort of. Determined to show her how they meshed? Definitely. Ready to take his time? Reluctantly. Gaspar rested his chin on the top of her head and wondered how the rest of the day would pan out.

However, there was one thing he knew and accepted. He’d wait as long as it took for them to be truly mated.

It wasn’t that many minutes later before she stirred, blinked, and a slow smile spread over her face. “I didn’t dream it, did I? You spanked me, I flew into sub space, and you held me until now?”

He nodded. “You were magnificent, my pet.”

She giggled. “Good, but something is up.”

“It is?” he asked, puzzled. “What?”

She slid off his lap and onto her knees and slowly, almost reverently touched the pre-cum slicked tip of his cock. “This is, Sir.”