The whole vanilla lifestyle isn’t for her. No, she’s a triple scoop with all the flavors and sprinkles on top.

  She wants the thrill of a hand closing around her throat, wants to feel herself being thoroughly fucked, right on the brink of passing out when she comes. She wants the fear, wants to scream so loud her throat bleeds, wants to feel the way her heart thunders in her chest, not knowing if this is going to be the one that kills her. But then in the morning, she wants to get up and go to work as though she isn’t a freaky little devil between the sheets.

  She’s a kinky little angel, and I can’t wait to play.

  Kyah sings along to the music as she works on her client’s back—a scrawny dude who thinks his ink is somehow going to make him seem tough, but when it comes down to it, he’ll always be a little bitch. Guys like him always are.

  Kyah concentrates, and as I watch her, I realize just how much care she takes in her work. It’s clear that she loves what she does, and fuck, she’s good at it too. She posts the designs she’s most proud of to all of her social media pages, and they’re always exceptional. She’s made a name for herself around here, one of the most sought-after tattoo artists in Brooklyn.

  Taking someone’s life is my addiction, just as leaving her designs deep into someone’s skin is hers. But once I’m through with her, the only addiction she’ll have is me. At least until I end her life and feel that passion pulsing through her veins and draining from her eyes. God, the power it gives me. It’s the best kind of rush, and with Kyah, it’s going to be astronomical.

  Big Jim is nowhere to be seen, and with Kyah occupied, I make my way around the back of the shop and pry open the back door before inching it open just enough to peer inside. After making sure the coast is clear, I slip inside, a dark thrill pulsing through my veins like liquid ecstasy.

  The back room is small, just big enough for the employees to stash their shit. There’s a small lunch table and a fridge, but Kyah doesn’t use it. She generally orders in, and when she doesn’t, she’ll go hungry until she gets home. I’ll have to do something about that because once I finally get my hands on her, she’s going to need her energy.

  My gaze shifts around, taking it all in until I find exactly what I’m looking for.

  Kyah’s bag.

  It sits up on one of the shelves of a storage cabinet, and as I make my way toward it, I keep my head down, masking my face from the security cameras. Reaching up, my hand curls around the faux leather of Kyah’s handbag, and I dump it out on the lunch table, fingering through the useless shit she’s got crammed in here until I hear the familiar jingle of her keys.

  Bingo.

  Pulling them out, my gaze lingers on the oversized K keyring that dangles from the keys, and after figuring out which is her front door key, I press it into my clay mold and make the perfect impression. Don’t get me wrong, I have a way into her home . . . for now. But there will come a time when she senses me there and gets chills every time she looks into the dark corners of her room, and when that happens, she will make sure that every window and door of her apartment is locked. But she won’t be keeping me out that easily. I’m prepared to break straight through her defenses.

  My sweet little Kyah isn’t going to know what hit her.

  Dropping her keys back into her bag, I continue searching, glancing over the random shit in here and looking through the identification cards she has stashed in her wallet. I take a mental photograph of her driver’s license, committing it to memory, then look over her bank cards, knowing I’ll soon have these numbers memorized like a childhood phone number.

  After putting her wallet back in just how I found it, I go for the gold—her phone. Only it’s not here, and I mentally scold myself. She must have it with her out in the shop, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll take it tonight, making a clone as she sleeps soundly beside me.

  God, just the thought is getting me hard.

  I wonder how she liked the gift I left for her the other day. She’s so beautiful, she deserves another. Hell, she deserves a new one every fucking day. It’s a tall order, but I’m sure I can handle it. But hell, with the way she’s got me jerking off, my dick’s either going to develop calluses or fall right off. Worth it though.

  Excitement drums through my veins at the thought of getting to go back to her home tonight, and with that, I put her bag back up on the shelf of the storage cabinet and slip straight back out the door with the mold of her front door key safely in the palm of my hand.

  5

  KYAH

  It’s a little after seven when I finish with my last client of the day, and while I clean my station, I listen to Crew trying to work his new online planner, all but beating it to get it to work. With a tattoo gun, he’s incredible, but when it comes to other forms of technology, he’s absolutely hopeless.

  “I can hear you laughing back there,” he calls over his shoulder, forcing a smile across his face as his client walks out the door, leaving us alone in the shop to finish closing up for the night.

  “Me? No,” I laugh. “I would never.”

  He groans and quickly switches the loud music off, probably just as eager to get out of here for the night as I am. It’s a Friday night, and as a general rule, we usually don’t get out on a Friday or Saturday night until after ten or eleven. Hell, I don’t even know what to do with myself.

  Crew turns off the lights at the front of the shop, leaving just enough light from the back for me to finish up what I’m doing, and as he waits for me, he strides to my chair, perching his fine ass on the edge. He’s silent for a while, watching me as I sanitize my station, and when I cut in front of him, his hand snakes out, gripping my wrist.

  I pause, my gaze lifting to his as his thumb brushes along the inside of my wrist. His other hand lifts, bracing against my waist, and my knees tremble as the tension in the room becomes almost too much to bear.

  His dark eyes linger on mine before slowly trailing down my body and to my arm—the arm he’s been working on for the past six months. “When are we going to finish your sleeve, Ky?” he asks, his tone so deep that I know that’s not really what he’s asking me. Not even close. He wants to know when we’re going to stop tiptoeing around each other. When we’re finally going to give in and admit that we’d be great together.

  “Crew,” I warn, shaking my head as I gently pull my wrist free, only his other hand tightens on my waist and holds me close. “Don’t force this.”

  “I’m not forcing anything,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my shoulder and slowly trailing down, making goosebumps spread across my body. His gaze lingers on his touch as though he can’t wait to devour me. “I know where you draw the line, but fuck, Ky, sometimes I wish I could destroy it and bend you over this fucking chair.”

  He pulls me in closer, and I step right in between his open legs, hunger pulsing through my body at the thought of just how well this man could fuck me. God, he would have me falling to pieces, ruining me for any other man.

  I brace one knee on the chair, high between his strong thighs, and lean forward, breathing him in. God, he’s fucking delicious. His hand shifts from my waist, trailing around to my ass and firmly squeezing, not even close to easing the need pounding through me.

  My gaze shifts down, taking in the tatts dancing down the thick column of his neck and disappearing beneath his shirt. They appear again at his defined arms, snaking all the way down to his fingers. I put half of them there. Hell, Crew let me use his body as practice when I first started, and he’s part of the reason I’m so good at what I do. Without him, I don’t know where I’d be.

  Feeling that devious stare lingering on my face, I force my gaze to trail back up to his, and the burning desire I find there only makes me want him more. “This is a bad idea,” I murmur.

  Crew shakes his head, gripping both of my hips and lifting me onto his lap, lowering me down so I straddle him, feeling just how hungry he is for me. “Ain’t nothing bad about this, baby,” he rumbles, pulling me in until my lips brush over his.

  I groan, wanting this so damn bad, and before I can convince myself otherwise, I close the gap and give in to my every desire. My lips fuse with his, and I feel the second his body relaxes as though he’s been waiting for this very moment for way too long. He kisses me back, his lips moving effortlessly against mine, and damn it, it feels so right.

  He doesn’t wait, reaching for my tank and pulling it over my head, and I let him, not willing to hold back. We’ve been here before, many times, and it usually ends with nothing more than his cock slamming into the back of my throat or his face between my legs, working my cunt until I come on his tongue. But something feels different about this one.

  I’m not down to stop, not tonight. If we’re doing this, then he’s going to give me exactly what I want.

  The second my shirt falls to the ground, he reaches around me, unhooking my bra and letting the straps fall down my arms. I toss it aside and Crew works his lips down my body, stopping at my neck and making me groan.

  I tilt my head, needing so much more, and the way his tongue works over my sensitive skin has that need growing stronger. Desperation claws at me, and as if reading that hunger, Crew grasps my ass, lifts me off the chair, and as he walks us over to my table, his lips close over my nipple.

  “Oh fuck,” I groan, tipping my head back.

  He sets me on the table, and with my hands free, I bunch my fingers into his shirt, pulling it over his head and putting that delicious torso on display. He’s so fucking strong, built as though he were carved from stone. I need to feel him against me.

  My heart races, and my body shakes with nerves that shouldn’t be there, but it’s Crew. This means something. We’ve both wanted this for so long, I just hope we can figure out where to go from here because I can’t afford to ruin this relationship between us. Apart from being the guy I’ve fantasized about every night when I slide my hand under my blankets, he’s also one of my closest friends.

  “Stop thinking so much,” he growls, his hands back on my waist.

  Fuck. He’s right.

  I need to enjoy this. I need to be here in the moment, feeling every inch of him.

  I shake the thoughts from my head and drop my hands down his body, quickly working his belt before popping the button on his jeans. As his tongue flicks over my nipple, I cry out. “Oh God, Crew,” I groan, arching my back and pressing harder against him. “I need more.”

  “I got you, baby,” he tells me, his deep, raspy tone making my eyes roll in the back of my head, hunger pulsing through me like never before.

  Reaching inside his pants, my fingers curl around his thick, velvety cock, and his low groan sends me into a needy frenzy, but it’s nothing compared to the sound that rumbles through his chest when my small fist starts pumping up and down.

  “Fuck, Ky. Just like that.”

  My head tips back, as he releases my nipple and settles his lips against the base of my throat, slowly working up to the sensitive spot just below my ear. My other arm scoops around his neck, and I dig my fingers into his shoulder.

  Fuck. I need him inside of me now.

  As if sensing my desperation, his strong arm braces around my waist, and he lifts me off the table just enough to tear my jeans down my legs, leaving me completely bare. Crew lowers me back to the table, and I eagerly push his pants down past his strong thighs just as his hands grip my thighs and spread them wide.

  His dark gaze sails down my body, taking in my pebbled nipples before lowering further. When his eyes finally land on my pussy, he sees exactly how ready I am, and that dark stare blazes with intense desire. “Fuck, Ky. Look how your sweet cunt glistens for me,” he growls as he presses his fingers against my clit and trails them down to my entrance, mixing with my arousal.

  My grip tightens on his cock, and as his fingers brush over my clit again, my whole body jolts with need. “Crew,” I beg, but he’s already there, thrusting two thick fingers deep inside of me. I cry out again, watching the way his eyes darken as his gaze remains locked on my glistening pussy.

  His fingers draw back, soaked with my arousal, and as my eyes flutter with pure satisfaction, he thrusts them back in.

  My fist pumps, my thumb rolling over his bulbous tip before going straight back down to his base, already addicted to the feel of his angry veins under my skin. Then as a bead of moisture appears at his tip, he swipes it off before bringing it to my lips. “Taste me, Ky,” he groans, his tongue slowly rolling over his bottom lip as the desire almost tips me right over the edge.

  I open my mouth, and he pushes his thumb inside, placing it right on the center of my tongue, and I eagerly suck it clean, closing my mouth around it and tasting his salty hunger. I groan, wanting to take more, but that’s going to have to wait because I need him inside of me, I need to feel the way his thick cock stretches my walls and fills me to the brim.

  He releases his thumb from my mouth, and I lock my legs around his waist, drawing his hips in closer, not needing to voice what I want—he just knows. He’s always known when it comes to me.

  Crew’s fingers curl inside of me, and I gasp, my hips jolting forward on the table. “Fuck yes.”

  “You like that, baby?” he drawls, doing it again and turning me into a writhing mess.

  “Crew,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his skin. “Please. Fuck me.”

  He groans, and just as he steps in closer, he reaches up behind me and knots his big hand into my hair. A subtle moan slips from my lips, and he tightens his hold before pulling down, forcing my head back as I instinctively arch my back, pushing my tits out toward him.

  My pussy clenches around his fingers and he grits his teeth. “I knew you’d fucking love that,” he says, pulling his fingers free from my cunt and lifting them to his lips. He sucks them dry, and I bite my bottom lip, never so fucking turned on in my life. Crew licks his lips, savoring every last drop of my arousal before lowering his hand to mine over his cock. “Is this what you want?” he demands. “You want me to fuck you?”

  “God, yes,” I whimper, my pussy throbbing without his fingers.

  “How?” he questions. “Do you want me to take you slow and hard?”

  “No,” I pant, shaking my head against his hold on my hair. “Fast. I want you to fuck me fast and hard. Make me scream, Crew. I need to come on your cock.”

  A wicked smirk plays on his lips, and good God, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

  Crew releases his grip on his cock and takes my hip, pulling me forward until my ass is barely dancing on the edge of the table, giving him all the space in the fucking room to do with me as he pleases. Then with his hand still gripped in my hair, he leans into me, his deep growl making me tremble. “Hold on, baby.”

  Fuck.

  I barely get a gasp out when he lines that thick, veiny cock up with my entrance and pushes inside. My walls instantly stretch around him, taking him inch by girthy inch. Then without warning, he slams the rest of the way in, bottoming out. “Fucking hell,” he grits through a clenched jaw as I groan, my pussy already spasming around him, getting used to his sheer size.

  Crew pauses there a moment, leaning in and hovering his face right in front of mine. I feel his hungry breath on my lips as those dark eyes linger on mine, both of us panting. The moment seems to last a lifetime, the tension burning between us, and then finally, he closes the gap and crushes his lips to mine.

  He kisses me deeply, but it only lasts a second before he pulls back, glancing down between us to watch the way his cock slowly draws back, glistening with my wetness. “Fucking hell,” he mutters again, and damn it, I have to agree with him.

  Crew slips his arm beneath my knee before hoisting it up, and as he slams back into me, he hits me at a whole new angle. My body shudders, shattering like glass, and I hold on to him tighter as he picks up his pace and fucks me just like I’ve always needed him to.

  He releases his hold on my hair, and when that same hand comes down over my clit and rubs tight circles, I cry out, my pussy ready to succumb to the intense pleasure. “Don’t you fucking come yet, baby,” he growls. “Hold on to it.”

  I groan, tipping my head back as the intensity burns within me, building and building, becoming too much. “Crew,” I pant, gripping his shoulder.

  “Hold on to it,” he repeats, not nearly close to letting this be over.

  “Oh, God,” I pant. “I can’t. I’m going to come.”

  “The fuck you are,” Crew mutters, locking his arm around my waist and scooping me off the table. He walks back over to my chair and hits the button, making it recline all the way back before putting me down so I’m facing away from him on my knees. “Bend over, Kyah. I haven’t waited years to fuck you for you to come this soon. Spread those pretty thighs and bend over.”

  A thrill shoots through my body, and I quickly spread my knees as wide as my chair will allow before plastering my tits to the cushion, my ass high in the air. Crew cups my ass, squeezing hard before releasing his hold, only to come back with a sharp spank that forces a deep, guttural groan sailing from my lips. I can all but feel my arousal dripping down my legs.

  “Every time I think about you, Ky, this is how I picture you,” he says, his fingers dragging through my wetness, roaming right up to my ass before heading south once again. Then without warning, he thrusts his fingers back inside of me. “You don’t know how many times I’ve fucked my own hand, picturing you just like this.”

  My pussy spasms around his fingers, and I bury my face into the soft cushion of my chair.

  “Touch yourself, Ky. Show me how you like it.”

  I don’t hesitate, slipping my arm beneath me and through my legs until finally, my fingers are pressing down over my clit, rubbing tight little circles, making everything more intense. “Please, Crew.”