"What did you want to show me?" I asked, stepping farther into the room. Rafe grabbed something off his desk, turning it to show me a sketch of his tattoo. I looked down at it, shock dropping my jaw when I recognized the differences from what already covered his arm. "No," I said, shaking my head.
"Yes," Rafael said simply. He pushed the tattoo chair up against the desk as the other man set a wooden plank on top of the desk along with two cords of rope.
"I don't want a tattoo," I protested, even if I had to admit the sketch itself was stunning. I couldn't justify putting something permanent on my skin, not when it related to one of the most terrifying nights of my life. The King stared up at me, horrific even if only because of my memory of finding that last chess piece and knowing the game had ended before I even had a chance to think.
"Consider it the replacement for your brand," Rafael said, guiding me to the tattoo chair. He picked me up as I squirmed, dropping me onto the seat on my knees. "Penance has to be paid in some form. I've paid mine," he said, gesturing down to the tattoo on his arm.
"What's your penance for?" I asked.
"For deceiving you," he responded, as if it was obvious. It might have been to me or any normal person, but Rafael didn't do regret. He didn't think there was anything wrong with his actions when the ends justified the means to his twisted sense of logic. Grabbing my right arm in his grip, he held me still as the other man took a razor to my skin and carefully shaved off the hair on my entire forearm. Then he rubbed some kind of solution over the area while Rafael held my gaze.
"You can't be serious," I protested as he handed the other man the stencil from my left hand. He worked to apply it and smooth it out carefully as I watched, frozen in place and knowing that even if I fought it would be pointless.
There was nothing but that familiar, steely determination in Rafael’s gaze when I turned my eyes up to his.
"I'm very serious," Rafael said. Once the stencil was in place, he put a hand between my shoulder blades and pressed me down until my torso lay flat against the surface of the desk. He carefully lifted my right arm in his grip, setting it down on the wooden plank and curling my hand around the edge.
While his friend tied the rope around the top of my hand and around my bicep, securing me to the plank fully, Rafael pulled my hair into a ponytail at the nape of my neck and secured it with a hair tie.
"She'll need to hold perfectly still," the other man said in warning. I looked at him in confusion, the position of the tattoo seeming incredibly unorthodox. Why not just put me in the chair?
"She will. You just worry about keeping your fucking eyes on her arm, Elías," Rafael scolded. "If I catch you looking anywhere else, I'll cut them out and feed them to your children for dinner tonight."
Elías chuckled, nodding his head as he picked up the tattoo gun and opened a fresh pack of needles before getting himself set up. "You can't tattoo your damn name on me!" I yelled, glaring at Rafael as I turned my head away from Elías.
"Technicallyhe'stattooing my damn name on you." Rafael shrugged. He leaned down to kiss me as the gun buzzed to life and drew a whimper from my lips.
"Rafe, please," I begged. It wasn't even that I was afraid of the tattoo itself, but the repercussions of it. One day, I'd see my family again even if I had to do it with Rafael at my side.
What would they think?
"Your name is on me twice,mi reina," he said, settling his hand onto my shoulder blades to help keep me still as Elías touched the needle to my skin for the first time. The vibration traveled up my arm, the light stinging taking over my senses as I turned my head back to glare at him.
"You asshole," I hissed. He didn't glance up from my arm, obeying Rafael's orders even as I continued to curse at him under my breath. "Do you often tie women down for other men?"
"Enough, Isa," Rafael warned, gliding his hand down my spine until he touched the hem of my dress. The one he'd set out on a chair for me before he left in the middle of the night. I hadn't thought much of putting it on in my hurry to find where he'd gone earlier, but as he slid the hem up my thighs, I winced and wished I'd worn shorts.
I flailed my free arm as I spun to glare at him. The bastard ignored me with that cold smirk on his face, disappearing behind me until I couldn't see him.
"What are you doing?" I gasped, flinching away as he flipped my dress up onto my back and scraped his teeth over the globe of my ass.
"Distracting you from the pain," he murmured gently. "Elías won't look. He values his vision too much." He grasped the waistline of my panties, dragging them down over my thighs until they bunched around my knees. He slid two fingers between my legs, stroking me slowly and building desire within me. The pain of the tattoo only drove me higher, conflicting the pleasure he built in my core.
"Stop it," I hissed, clenching my eyes closed as I resisted the urge to moan. I couldn't get off with another man in the room. Even if he didn't look at me, he'dhearme.
"Put on your headphones," he ordered Elías, who moved at my side as the gun left my arm. "Her moans are mine alone." The quiet murmur of metal came from Elías' direction as he followed Rafe's order wordlessly. Rafe slid his fingers inside me, pumping them slowly and drawing a ragged groan from my lips. "Not so bad, is it?" he asked, teasing me with both his words and his touch.
"You’re the reason God created the middle finger," I growled, earning a deep rumble of laughter in response.
"God has no place on my island,mi reina,"he said, drawing his fingers away. In the absence of them, I resisted the urge to squirm. Wanting his touch back on me, even though I knew I shouldn't. Even though I knew what he did was wrong. "Getting a tattoo like this is a lengthy process," he said as the heat of his breath hit my needy flesh. "How would you like to spend that time?" He swept his tongue through my slit, sliding it through me until he pressed it firmly against my clit. "With my fingers in my pretty little pussy? My tongue?" He paused, groaning into my flesh as he licked me again. "Or is it my cock you want,mi reina?"
"I want to not get a fucking tattoo," I groaned, and I would have liked to claim the sound was out of frustration. But it was the sound only Rafael could drag from me. The one of pure bliss as his wicked tongue explored me, building temptation in my veins.
"My tongue it is," he said, leaning back in to eat my pussy from behind. With meticulously well-planned strokes of his tongue on me, he kept me at one level of arousal as he worked me over.
It would be the longest tattoo in history if he kept that up.