He smiled too. “Glad you like it. Why don’t you have a seat again while I get you bandaged up?”
He applied a protective ointment to her skin, coating the area in a light sheen before cutting a bandage and securing it. When he was done, she looked more like she’d been to the hospital than a tattoo studio, but she couldn’t forget the beauty hidden by the gauze and medical tape, and her smile lingered.
Time seemed to speed by after that, minutes blurring into seconds as Jed cleaned up his work area and they climbed the stairs to his apartment. Nothing had been said about how they’d spend the rest of the night, but the air felt almost electric, and Karen’s skin tingled, beneath the bandage and elsewhere. When Jed unlocked the door at the top of the steps, the apartment was just as she remembered it.
Mostly. She glanced toward the kitchen, where the absence of the red teapot was immediately apparent. The sight of the empty burner where it had rested sent a bittersweet pang through her chest, and she turned to Jed. It was only the second time she’d been in his apartment, and though it hadn’t been that long ago, it was sort of staggering how much things had changed since then, for her and – she sensed – for him.
“This’ll be my last night here,” he said, pulling the door shut, “I’m moving most of my stuff over to the Allegheny West house tomorrow. Already rented a moving truck.”
She nodded, her gaze wandering over their surroundings before returning to him. “Let’s make it a good last night, then.” She smiled, and it was a relief when he returned the expression. She knew so much more than she had when she’d first spent the night inside the apartment, and the knowledge burnt inside her, fueling hope that the sadness the place had known could somehow be sealed off by love, left in the past.
She had no delusions that he could forget the years he’d spent alone in the apartment above Hot Ink, or that he’d want to. But he’d clearly decided on change, and that made her want to breathe a sigh of relief.
The bedroom was exactly how she remembered it, and the bed was soft beneath her when he wrapped his arms around her and they sank down onto it, settling with her halfway in his lap.
She’d worn a strapless sundress, purposely having chosen something that would leave her shoulders bare for the tattooing process. He unzipped it in the back, baring her to the waist in one easy movement.
He sighed, his breath rushing hot against her ear and neck as he reached around her from behind and cradled her breasts. She hadn’t worn a bra – one, because strapless bras were torture devices, especially for women with breasts as ample as hers, and two, because she’d fantasized about this moment. The heat and sound of his breath stirred a deep ache in her core, and she leaned back against him, arching her spine.
He squeezed her breasts, his fingers denting her flesh and making her ache there, too. “Careful of your tattoo,” he said, his voice low. “It’s probably still a little tender, huh?”
“A little,” she breathed, not moving as he circled her nipples with his fingertips, rubbing and then pinching lightly in a way that seemed certain to drive her absolutely crazy. “But I don’t mind.”
“All the same…” He slid one hand lower, over her belly and beneath her dress, which had pooled around her hips, “we should make a point not to irritate it.”
Her head swam as he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties and found her clit. Instead of replying, she bit her lip and nodded.
She was already wet – had been from the moment he’d unzipped her dress. He worked his fingertips against the aching bud of her clit, so close to the moisture she could feel on her folds below, dampening her panties. Memories of the night before, in her kitchen, swirled through her mind, but recollections of before she’d left for New York were more powerful. The walls of her pussy shrank at the remembered feel of his hard cock inside her, his shaft stretching her softer flesh.
When he pulled his hand from her panties, her clit throbbed in protest. She’d been close – so close that little tremors were still racing through her core, the almost-bliss fading slowly.
“Come here.”
She did, and helped him shimmy what little clothes she’d been wearing off. The lace panties – she’d chosen those especially for this night, too – were the last to go. He paused for a moment, his gaze heavy on the tender area between her thighs, before slipping them off of her.
With nothing on, the air seemed cool against her folds and the hot flesh above. She still ached everywhere he’d touched her – her breasts, her clit – and where she’d imagined him, far inside her core. When he gathered her up and lowered his head to her chest, she gasped as his breath hit her nipples, streaming over their stiff peaks.