Broken Bond by C.J. Primer

18

VANESSA

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cal growls, rolling to his side and reaching out to grab for me.

His fingertips brush my waist as I dart away, giggling as I scramble off his bed. I can feel his heavy stare burning into me as I search for my underwear on the floor, stepping into them once I find them and pulling them up my thighs. “I’m thirsty,” I explain, reaching down to scoop up his discarded t-shirt and pulling it on over my head. “Gonna grab a glass of water.”

His shirt smells like him. I inhale deeply, breathing in the subtle notes of juniper, leather, smoke, and spice before tugging my long hair out of the collar, darting him a glance over my shoulder. “Think you’ll survive without me for two minutes?” I tease.

Callum smirks, his eyes dropping to my bare legs and raking up my form slowly before meeting mine again. “I’ll try,” he rasps, running his tongue over his teeth with a devious grin.

Christ, the man’s insatiable. He just had me naked and screaming beneath him, but from the predatory gleam in his eyes, he’s nowhere near done with me yet.

My cheeks flush, my pulse racing as I spin around and pad out of the room, heading down the hallway toward the kitchen. I’ve gotta replenish my fluids before diving in for round two. Not to mention the fact that my throat’s scratchy from how much he had me screaming during round one.

I smile inwardly, rounding the corner into the kitchen and striding over to the sink to retrieve a glass from the cabinet beside it. I hold it under the faucet and fill it up with water, then chug down the entire glass before filling it up to the top again.

As I retreat from the kitchen with the full glass in hand, my eyes are drawn to the wall behind the recliner; the one full of Callum’s sketches. There are a few new ones he’s added on the outer edge, and my breath catches in my throat when I realize that one of them is a pencil sketch of me- a side profile of me curled up with my hand beneath my head, my hair fanning out over a pillow.

Did he draw me while I was sleeping?

It should creep me out, but instead, I move closer to the sketch, my heart squeezing in my chest as I study it. It’s been drawn with such care; so much attention to detail. It’s beautiful, leaving me completely in awe.

“You coming back, babe?” Cal calls from the bedroom.

I giggle, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. So impatient.

I start to turn to head for the bedroom, but something else catches my eye- Callum’s box of tattoo supplies on the side table next to his recliner. A mischievous grin stretches my lips as I reach for it, tucking it against my chest with one arm while clutching the glass of water in my other hand, padding down the hallway toward his bedroom again on bare feet.

“That was longer than two minutes,” Cal grumbles as I step into the room, his eyes immediately landing on the box I’m carrying. He pushes up on his elbows, furrowing his brow. “What are you doing with that?”

My grin widens. I cross the room to him, sliding the glass of water onto his nightstand and jumping onto his bed, bouncing on my knees beside him. “Tattoo me?”

He shakes his head, falling back down onto the pillows and tossing an arm over his face.

“C’mon,” I coax, setting the box down and throwing a leg over his body to climb on top of him, peppering his chest with kisses. ” Please, Callum? Pretty please?”

“Mmm, I like hearing you beg,” he murmurs, still hiding his face beneath his arm. He peels it back, looking up at me with a smirk. “Why don’t you ever beg for my cock like that?”

I gasp, feigning offense, but I’m a shitty actress- within a second, I’m cracking a smile. “As if I’d ever have to beg for it,” I tease, raking my fingernails down his chest lightly. His dick twitches beneath me, proving my point.

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, grasping my hips and grinding himself against me. “It’s not my fault you’re irresistible.”

I try my best to ignore the heat pooling in my core in response to the feeling of him hardening beneath me. Eyeing him suspiciously, I arch a brow. “Are you trying to distract me?”

He clutches my hips tighter, angling me on top of him so that the head of his cock rubs against my clit. “Now why would I do that?”

I roll my eyes, wriggling out of his grasp and climbing off him, reaching for the box of tattoo supplies again. “Please?” I ask sweetly, batting my lashes as I hold the box out toward him.

His face scrunches into a scowl. “Why?”

see what it feels like.”

“But it’s permanent.”

a shoulder. “So? I love your art.” I lift the hem of his shirt from my thigh, dragging it up my belly to flash him some skin. “Use me

he’s going to agree- but then he just shakes

bed, plucking the tattoo gun out of it and testing its weight

at me when he’s about

I nod eagerly.

across his lips. “Sure, babe.”

open,

“Sure, why not?”

And keep in mind that I’m not very artistic,

for the box

of boxers, and starts getting everything set up on the nightstand, I rack my brain for what to etch into his skin. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t artistic- if I try to do something too complicated, it’ll turn out looking like

you want to use?” he asks as he sets

I smile inwardly, remembering he said that red was his favorite color.

red ink and uncapping the little vial. Then he sits on the edge of the bed, plugging in the tattoo gun and switching it on. “Let me show you,

it over his thigh where he’s already got a tattoo of a red skull. “Put your hand over mine,” Callum murmurs, and I do as he instructs, holding my breath as he guides the gun down onto his

got to dig in a little to

needle looks pressing into his skin, committing his instructions to memory. He pulls the tattoo gun back, taking my hand and wrapping my fingers around it. “Now

over the area that’s already

little harder,”

more

winces a little, but that spark flares in his eyes again, like he enjoys the pain. He trails

I turn to look at him. “Yeah?” The gun slips, drawing a crooked little line on his skin beyond the red skul;. “Shit!” I hiss, yanking it back with wide eyes. “I’m so

head. “No big deal. I was planning on adding to that design anyways.” He takes the gun from my hands, switching it off and setting it on the nightstand. “Alright, where do you wanna put it?” he asks, swinging his legs up onto the bed and reclining back

I consider. Then I reach for his right arm, pulling it out toward me and examining the existing

He places it in my hand and explains how and when to add more ink, and when he’s satisfied that I’ve absorbed all of his directions, he turns me loose, flopping his head

a lot of trust in a

I bring it over his skin. I’ve watched him do this before, so I feel like I’ve got a general grasp on the process. I grip his wrist in one hand and the gun in the other, and when I press the needle into his

way, and I’d be lying if his reaction wasn’t making me a little hot. Still, I focus in on my task, gnawing on my lower lip as

towel, and I’m not sure how much of what I’m wiping is blood and how much of it is ink. It all blends, but I’m glad for it, because if I saw too much blood,

a little heart into his skin. It’s small- less than half an inch in diameter, and when I’m finished, I’m pleased

the gun off and wipe at his skin with the paper towel once more, grinning as I

asks, squinting an

nod triumphantly, setting the tattoo gun back on

look at his new tattoo. Any apprehension I have about his reaction melts away when I see the grin that splits his face. “That’s

had to be

and drawing me into his chest. “It’s great,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against mine. My arms wind around his neck as he kisses me harder. I haven’t forgotten my original request, though, and I’m not about to allow him to distract me. I pull away, breaking the kiss

“My turn.

little shake of his head.

thrust my lower lip out in a pout. “Please?” I ask, carding my fingers

frustrated breath, and before he even says it, I know

“Fine.”

excitement, hopping off his lap and reaching for the

sliding his legs