Page 12 of Inked By the Mountain Man

"Never." I trace her jaw with my thumb.

"Then we figure it out together."

I undress her slowly, as if unwrapping something sacred. The dress pools on the floor. Her underwear is simple cotton, and the sight of it—practical, unguarded—undoes me. I strip to my boxers, and her gaze travels over my chest, my arms, the ink that covers my skin.

"You're beautiful," she says.

"You're everything."

I stretch out beside her, skin to skin, and the contact is electric. We kiss, explore, learn each other's bodies with clumsy, eager hands. She gasps when I touch her breast, moans when my hand slides between her thighs. She's wet, so wet, and the discovery makes me dizzy.

"Is this, okay?" I ask, my fingers stroking her through the cotton.

"More than okay. Keanu, please."

I slip my hand inside her underwear, and she cries out. She's hot and slick and tight, and I explore her with careful, reverent fingers. When I find the spot that makes her buck, I focus there, circling, pressing, watching her face in the moonlight.

"Oh, God. Oh my God." Her nails dig into my shoulders. "Don't stop, don't stop."

I don't. I learn her rhythm, her breath, the way her body tightens and arches. When she comes, it's with a shattered cry, her whole body trembling, her face buried in my neck. I hold her through it, murmuring nonsense, my own arousal throbbing painfully against her hip.

"Your turn," she breathes, recovering.

She pushes me onto my back and explores me with tentative hands. When she wraps her fingers around me through my boxers, I groan, my hips jerking involuntarily. She's curious, thorough, and when she pulls me free and strokes me with both hands, I think I might die.

"Like this?" she asks, and all I can do is nod.

She learns me the way I learned her—watching my face, adjusting her grip, finding the rhythm that makes my breath hitch and my muscles lock. I place my hand on hers, stopping her before I come too quickly. “I want to be inside you when I come.”

I flip her onto the mattress and slide her panties off. “You’re so beautiful.” I run my hand over her body before lining my cock up at her entrance. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes,” she sighs, raising her hips to meet mine.

I push forward until I’m filling her completely. The sensation is almost too much to bear. “You’re so tight.” I moan against her mouth, thrusting harder and faster with each snap of my hips.

“Please.” She begs that one word, snapping my control.

I slip a hand between us, finding her clit and rub my thumb over it, making her squirm beneath me. “That’s it. Come for me, Liv.”

Her body tenses as she moans my name. The feel of her pussy milking my cock is my undoing as I shoot load after load of cum deep inside her. “Fuck, Liv. You feel so good.”

Once our bodies relax, I roll onto my back, taking her with me. “I love you, Liv.” I kiss her damp forehead.

“I love you, too, Keanu.”

I hold her tight through the rest of the night, knowing I’m never going to let her go.

Epilogue - Keanu

Three Months Later

Three months later, I've learned several things about being Liv Callahan's boyfriend. The biggest surprise is how natural the title feels. I spent years thinking relationships would crowd me, demand things of me, and change the shape of my life in ways I'd resent. Liv absolutely changes the shape of my life. The difference is that I like the new shape better.

One: Privacy is an illusion. Her family knows everything. My sister knows even more. Two: Liv still hates spreadsheets. Three: She has somehow taken over Temptation Ink's social media despite my repeated objections. Four: Apparently, people like videos of tattoo artists glaring into the camera.

We've gained eight thousand followers. I hate everything about social media.

"Smile."