Jennie
"We're going to be late," Lisa says. But she doesn't care. Not really.
Because her hands are threaded into my hair and her head is tossed back as I swallow her cock.
"Jesus, Jennie. How are you so fucking good at this?"
I hum my satisfaction into her flesh and cup her balls with my free hand as I thrust my fingers into my pussy with the other. When I moan again, she looks down, her eyes black with desire.
"Fuck, I love watching you touch yourself," she hisses.
My eyes flutter closed as I swirl my touch over my clit. Precum threads across my tongue.
"You'd better make yourself come, because I am right on the fucking edge and we need to go."
I slow the motion of my fingers, slide my lips to the crown of her erection, and grin.
My insolence is met with a growl. Lisa's hand darts to my throat and catches the giggle that begs to be set free.
"Are you being a brat?" she asks as I run my tongue along the underside of her erection and pin her with my most innocent eyes. Her hand tightens. "Have you forgotten the last time you were a brat?"
I shrug, even though I most certainly have not forgotten. When I decided to push her buttons and disregard most of her orders while riding her cock a few weeks ago, she kidnapped me as I was coming home from drinks with Anna, blindfolded me, and strapped me down on a table in the restaurant to eat a full range of delicacies off my naked body. She edged me for hours, drizzling caramel sauce across my nipples to suck it off as she fucked me, dripping cold whipped cream onto my genital piercings before licking them clean. Every time I begged for mercy, she laughed.
"Good girls get rewards," she'd said as she turned down the vibration on the anal plug she'd pushed into my ass after she tied me down. She slowed the rhythm of her strokes as she thrust into me, pulling me back from the brink of an orgasm. "Brats receive punishment."
She'd slid out of me, jerked off until she sprayed her cum in warm spurts across my chest, then started all over again.
It probably had the opposite effect of what she had intended, because I had the best time that night.
"That's your answer?" she says now, her eyes lethal and dark. "Just a shrug? That seems pretty bratty to me."
I sigh and lick my way back to the crown of her erection as I cup her balls.
"I might have lied about the appointment time," I reply as I stroke the length of her cock and lavish the tip with a swirling lick. "We have an extra hour."
My eyes stay fused to Lisa's face as this information settles into her endorphin-flooded brain.
"Oh, thank fuck," she finally says, and plunges into the heat of my mouth. "Make yourself come or I swear to God I am going to steal you away to some remote cabin and punish you for three days."
Lisa Manoban, always threatening me with a good time.
She loosens her grip on my throat but keeps me steady as I kneel before her and take her cock as deep as I can. It hits the back of my throat and my garbled, choked sounds spur the rhythm of her thrusts. With my other hand, I drive my fingers into my pussy until they're coated in my arousal and the cum she already spilled into me earlier.
My slick fingers withdraw, and then I move my touch to Lisa, finding the pleated rim of her ass. She shudders as I massage the tight ring, and then I push a finger inside.
"Oh holy shit, Jennie—"
"Are you using your safe word?"
"Fuck no."
I grin and add a second finger, gently stroking until I find the touch that makes her tremble. "What a good girl," I coo, my tone saccharine. "And good girls get rewards."
My lips seal around her cock and I suck.
An uninhibited sound of pleasure rumbles from Lisa's chest as I fuck her with my fingers and swallow her erection. With my other hand, I circle my clit, climbing closer to the orgasm I know she'll demand of me. And as I feel her body coil tight, that's exactly what she does. Demands.
"Blackbird, you'd better come right the fuck now because you are killing me and I swear to fucking God—"
I fall apart with her cock plunged to the back of my throat, my whimpering moan a vibration that surrounds her length.
Her words set me off every time.
A breath later, Lisa growls as her hot cum floods my mouth. I swallow every drop and draw out her pleasure until I'm sure she's spent, a thin sheen of sweat glistening across her naked chest with her shuddering breaths.
"We've gotta go," I say with a devious smile as I withdraw my fingers from her ass. "We're going to be late."
Lisa gives me a flat glare that doesn't last, then presses a kiss to my forehead before we clean ourselves up, get dressed, and rush out the door.
Every step we take in the warm June sun has my heart hammering, not with anxiety, but with excitement. If Lisa is nervous, she doesn't let on. She tells an animated story about Sehun from when they were teenagers as we walk the city streets, our fingers interlaced, my other hand braced around the largest scar on the inner surface of her forearm. The night it happened, Jay had meticulously treated the wound and used Dermagraft to replace the missing tissue, and Lisa was diligent about taking care of it from that night on. And soon, the scar will be transformed into something beautiful.
She'll love it. I know she will.
We stop at Manoban Atelier on the way to our appointment, entering the shop to the scent of leather and the sound of indie music. I tamp down a grin as I wonder if Sehun ever listens to Solar's music, and when I glance at Lisa beside me, I think she might be wondering the same.
"You old twat. What are you working on?" Lisa says as Sehun wheels his worn swivel chair away from his desk and tosses what looks like reading glasses next to the hide he's carving.
"Custom saddlebags for a biker's Harley. If I couldn't kick your ass myself, she would gladly do it for me," Sehun fires back. "And I'm only two years older than you, dipshit."
"Then why are you wearing old man glasses? You look like you're about to do a crossword puzzle and fall asleep in your La-Z-Boy recliner," Lisa says with a wink at me.
"Fuck off. What do you want, you feckin' asshat?"
"Actually it's me, I have a little request," I say as I take a step closer to Lisa's brash older brother.
"Ah, the spider lady, coming to ask me for a favor," Sehun says with a devious grin as he leans back in her chair.
"Actually, I'm calling in a favor."
"Oh really? What favor is that."
"Saving your little sister."
"If I remember correctly," Sehun says, tapping one of his ringed fingers on his chin, "I helped clean up your rather messy murder scene before erasing any record of the existence of a certain David Miller from the annals of serial killer history. So, I'd say we're even. You're welcome."
I roll my eyes and Lisa smirks next to me. "Fine. A favor for Solar in that case."
There's a beat of hesitation before Sehun emphatically says, "Fuck no."
"Come on," I reply, my voice bordering on a whiny plea as I take another step closer. "Solar is moving to Boston the same week that we're going to be away. Just help her get her stuff into her new apartment, please. She doesn't have much."
"Why doesn't she have much?" Sehun asks, his brow furrowed, his voice stern. Lisa and I exchange a fleeting, confused glance before I refocus on Sehun.
"Um, she travels light, I guess …?"
Sehun's gaze darkens as though this is insufficient information before he smooths his reaction beneath an apathetic mask. "Fine. But don't expect me to stick around when it's done."
"Of course not."
"And I'm not going to show her around the city or some shit."
"Absolutely not."
"We're not like, friends. She can't call me for … milk."
"Okay … I'll let her know not to call you for milk. Done."
Sehun grunts. I grin.
"Thank you," I say as I walk over and give him a hug I already know he won't return. "You won't regret it."
"Yes, I will."
"Okay then."
I give him a kiss on his stubbled cheek to the sound of Lisa's delighted snort and then back away.
"Thanks for that, bellend. We've gotta run," Lisa says with a teasing grin that Sehun returns with a flat glare, but he still rises from his chair. He walks us out of the studio and onto the street, and we make plans to get together for dinner next week before he presses his forehead to Lisa's as he always does. And then we're off, heading to our appointment hand in hand, taking our time to enjoy our simple company and the mounting excitement for what's to come as we weave our way to our destination.
The little brass bell rings at the top of the door as we enter Prism Tattoo Parlor.
Laura, the owner of the shop, greets us warmly and gives Lisa a consent form to complete as she and I finalize details about the design I gave her, our voices hushed so that Lisa can't hear the specifics. When everything is signed and the design is printed on the transfer paper, Lisa takes a seat in Laura's chair.
"Sorry, Butcher, but I don't trust you as far as I could throw you," I say as I step behind her to lower a blindfold over her eyes. Laura smirks as she preps Lisa's arm and transfers the stencil across her scar.
"You wound me," she says.
"Right," I snort. "Did you or did you not follow me for three days in California just so you could cheat your way into winning a game?"
"I did not cheat. And besides, I lost. Miserably, I might add. I still can't eat ice cream."
I grin and take a seat next to her so I can watch as Laura starts to lay down the first black lines in her skin. "Maybe we'll start a desensitization program for you. I have some ideas."
"Now you're talking."
It takes a few hours, but the picture comes to life on Lisa's arm, a design I made myself and worked with Laura to refine so it would cover her scars and fit the contours of her musculature. And before long, she's cleaning the fresh tattoo off, wiping away the excess ink and the dots of blood to reveal the final image. We share a bright smile across Lisa's body, one artist to another, as she peppers us with questions we don't answer.
"Okay, pretty girl. Time to check it out," I say as Laura takes one of Lisa's biceps and I grab hold of the other. We guide her to her feet and over to a full-length mirror. I stand next to her as Laura pulls the blindfold free and she gets her first look at the tattoo that encompasses the length of her forearm.
"Holy fucking shit," she says, not taking her eyes from the design as she steps closer to the mirror and twists her arm from side to side. She absorbs every detail, both in the mirror and on her arm directly, her sharp gaze bouncing to me every few seconds. "It's amazing, Blackbird."
The raven's black feathers shimmer with hints of indigo, its eye otherworldly and opalescent as it looks into the distance. It stands clutching a polished chef's knife, light a bright reflection on the blade. Behind the bird and its sharpened perch is a background of graffiti-like spatters in bursts of vibrant color.
"The colors are epic, Laura," she says, glancing over at her with an appreciative smile.
She grins. "Thank you, but your girl here is the one who came up with it. I just brought her design to life."
Laura hands her the reference drawing on her iPad, the original that I sent her two months ago when Lisa first suggested a cover-up for the scars. she stares at the image and swallows. It takes her a long moment before she turns her gaze to me.
"Color?" she asks. She points to the image without taking her eyes from mine. "You did this?"
I shrug, the start of an ache forming in my throat when I take in the hint of a glassy shine in her eyes. "Yeah. I guess I did."
Lisa hands the iPad back to Laura and crushes me in a tight embrace, her face buried against my neck. She says nothing for a long while. She just holds on.
"You did color," she whispers, but she still doesn't let go.
I smile in Lisa's arms. "What can I say, Butcher. I guess you brought it out of me."