Aurnia
I didn’t ask questions.
I didn’t want to fucking ask questions.
I wanted to get pushed up against a wall and used when Rian and Mason ducked out to pick up takeout. Or to knock off all the ink bottles on the storage room shelves with our desperate limbs. Or to make the plaster fall from the ceiling as the gold metal-frame bed upstairs pounded against the wall.
As the little bell chimed fifteen minutes later, I wanted to swipe my lip gloss from the corner of his lips with my pinkie. To have his teeth nip at me as he grinned down at me. To sink against the faded wallpaper as I stared dreamily at the darkened chandelier and felt my heart pounding out of my chest.
I wanted to meet his eyes from across the parlour when Rian and Mason were bent over their work. I wanted to play that dangerous little game of ours where we saw who dared to look the longest. Who risked getting caught. I wanted to see the fire in his eyes and know that they were only reflected in my own. I wanted to laugh and hide my blush and make up some excuse to leave the room when Rian or Mason looked up.
I wanted the pent-up energy, the suffocated sexual desire, the unquenchable lust that comes from holding oneself back that Conor unleashed on me the second we got back to the apartment. I wanted the head banging against the wall. I wanted to sting of tugged hair, the bruises from fucking on the kitchen floor, the scalding hot of sex in the shower. Conor keeping himself from coming so it wouldn’t be over. So we didn’t have to go to work. So he could keep me naked and in his arms and tight around his cock.
That’s why I didn’t ask why it was so important that we keep our relationship a secret. Why Rian or Mason couldn’t know. Why on the streets we couldn’t stop at a light pole and kiss like other couples. Why at the store our hands couldn’t touch on the shopping cart. Why if we went to the park, it was to fuck in the dark behind a tree, not lay out in the open on a blanket, lips red from too much wine, hands a little too familiar on each other’s body for public.
I didn’t ask, because I wanted Conor whispering in my ear each night as we fell asleep. Whispering about art, about tattoos, whispering about his dreams for the shop. I didn’t ask, because I was in those dreams.
“When you get your first client.” “When you develop your own tattoo style.” “When you have people coming from all over the city just for you. Just for the work you do.” I wanted the excitement in his voice, the quiver of his heart against my back as he held me tight, the thrill as he nestled his nose against my hair.
I didn’t ask, because I wanted, oh, fuck, how I wanted these three little words: “I want you.”
Mason was “giving a tour” to a potential client, a female client. Rian was so absorbed in a sketch that he hadn’t even flinched when the door upstairs slammed shut amongst giggling and thumping. I was at one of the drafting desks when I felt Conor against me. His erection obvious against my ass. His need intoxicating as he tucked my hair behind my ear and whispered hotly, “I want you.”
We both looked over at Rian, brow furrowed, pencil moving with almost desperation.
“What about him?” I asked.
“Can you be quiet?”
I turned to face him. Conor’s arms caged me against the desk. I looked up into his lustful eyes.
“As a mouse,” I said.
Conor’s fingers intertwined with mine. The only sound as we went to the supply room at the back of the shop was the creaking of the old floorboards. My heart leaped as Conor inched the door closed behind us.
There was never much light in Conor’s bedroom, but there was always something. A few rays of sunlight that managed to sneak through the clouds. The orange glow of a street lamp. The passing glare of yellow headlamps. But in the supply closet it was complete darkness.
Conor’s hand on my shoulder took me by complete surprise. When he walked me back till my shoulders collided with the tall metal racks, there was nothing I could do but relent. When he spun me around so I was facing away from him, I was as useless as a raggedy doll.
“Arms up,” he commanded in the dark.
My sweatshirt went easily over my head. I heard it flung somewhere that might as well have been over the edge of the universe. I shivered as Conor’s hands reached around my front. He groped at the button of my jeans and a second later I was kicking out of my boots, kicking out of my pants. It was a new vulnerability. Being naked in the dark. Conor had hardly even touched me and heat was already flooding my pussy. When he pressed me against the rack, the cold bit at my skin, the metal hard against my nipples. A second later Conor’s body was against mine and it was nothing but pure raging heat.
“Hold on,” he whispered, nipping at my earlobe.
How did he know my body so well? How could he find me as if the lights were on?
I fumbled for the metal posts. My fingers curled around the icy shafts.
I could feel him stroking himself just behind me. Could feel his rough knuckles against my ass. Feel the tremble of his chest against the shivers that ran down my spine.
“Are you holding on?”
I nodded even though he couldn’t possibly have seen.
“Words, Aurnia.”
“Yes.”