Skin of a Sinner: A Dark Childhood Best Friends Romance(115)

She’s not the only one working while we travel around the country—twelve states and counting. Thanks to the internet, I can pick up whatever job I want. Including getting my money’s worth after I forked out a little too much on a whole ass professional tattoo kit on an impulse.

Am I good at it?

Meh.

Is it up to safety standards?

Eh.

I steal glances at her between punches, my heart pumping double-time when my eyes land on the “M” tattooed on her ring finger in cursive writing. Hidden beneath the boxing gloves, I have a “B” in gothic lettering to match.

Catching my stare, I wink at her, and she rises to her feet, fixing her dress and leaving her drawing pad behind as she skips over to me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. White and dangerously short, swishing around her legs as she moves, her dress is a major distraction. My dick stands at attention at the sight. She doesn’t need to do anything, and I’m ready to sink into her mouth or pussy; I’ll take whatever she gives me.

I grin as she makes her way over to me, muscles pumped and ready to wrap her smooth legs around me.

As she closes the distance, I reach my hand out for her. Instead of taking it, the little shit grabs my arm, spins around, then throws me over her fucking shoulder. Just like I taught her.

Ain’t no way will “the student becomes the master” bullshit fly here, but shit, am I impressed she pulled that off on the first try.

I didn’t even see it coming.

She plops down, straddling my raging cock with her warm, inviting center. Tilting her head with a shit-eating grin, she says, “Gotcha.”

I smirk, chucking my gloves off to feel her warm thighs beneath my hands. “Not just a pretty face, are you, Mrs. Riviera?”

She snorts. “I think I missed the part where we got married.”

Shrugging, I say, “You might as well get used to the name.”

“You haven’t proposed.”

She isn’t wrong. I sorta sat her down, grabbed her hand, and started tattooing my first initial—well, the initial of her name for me. Much to my surprise, she didn’t fight at all; she just complained that I should have waited to do it until after we moved on from the beach.

“Didn’t need to,” I say. She yelps as I spin us over so that she’s under me. “You’re already mine. No need to put meaningless labels on it.”

Roman and Isabella can’t get legally married because, apparently, there’s a warrant out for our arrests. But Alice and Michael can, and neither of us wants to seal the deal under a name that isn’t ours.

She arches a brow. “How many times have you called me your wife?”

I shrug. “You are.”

She doesn’t get another word in before my head is between her legs for breakfast, and I stop short. Bella isn’t wearing any panties. “Fuck, baby girl,” I rasp. “You’re going to kill me.”

Her ensuing giggle makes my cock strain harder against the loose shorts. My tongue descends on her, and fuck, if she isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.

I’ve become an addict with many vices that all revolve around Bella, and I need my daily hit. I don’t care when, whether for breakfast, dessert, or a midnight feast, I need to have her coming on my tongue at least once a day. Her taste is too addicting.

Her breathing labors and hiccups as she starts mewling, grinding her hips against my face as I flick my tongue out and lick every inch of her sweet cunt. Bella buckles when I latch onto her sensitive nub.

My hands climb up her body to pull her dress down to her waist. Pinching her nipples, she moans into the sky.

Delicate fingers grip onto my hair, uselessly attempting to pull me away. I’ll comply with my terms. I plunge my tongue into her pussy, pummeling in and out until her moans quicken and echo through the forest, crying out my name as she shudders beneath me.

“Ten out of ten, would come back for seconds,” I tease, running kisses up and down her thighs.

She’s too delirious to respond, panting hard without noticing I’ve lined up my cock with her entrance. “Any last words?”

Blinking rapidly, she focuses on me, then on the space between us where I run my tip through the wet heat. “Jesus Christ,” she moans when I push against her sensitive skin.

“God won’t save you from me.” I move my hips forward, breaching her tight cunt, and I don’t stop.

Bella was made for me, and I was made for her. There isn’t a part of her that I don’t love. She’s the one who brought me out of the darkness and made it feel like life was still worth living, even if I were in a box.

Her moans dance through the air and filter into my bones. I couldn’t get enough of her before, and I don’t see myself ever thinking I’ve had my fill.

Moisture drips down my legs from the area where we’re joined. “You’re always so fucking wet for me.” I chuckle, gripping her cheeks between my thumb and pointer finger. “You’re my dirty little slut, aren’t you, baby?”

She nods frantically as her muscles contract around my length. My hand finds her clit, and I start moving in circles just the way she likes. She always looks so beautiful when she’s about to come, fluttering lashes and gasping breaths. The way her nipples pebble into biteable points as her chest rises and falls has my mouth watering for a taste.