Tattoos Tattoos

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica


Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica


A short excerpt from a larger work.


A short excerpt from a larger work.


Submitted: May 14, 2016

A A A | A A A


Submitted: April 12, 2016



I love you, too.” She whispered. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell she was smiling. He could feel it, as though her smile were part of him. He smiled broadly in relief and surrender, pulling her closer and trailing his fingertips through the short hair behind her ear.


It's getting late.” She murmured.


Stay.” He said. “Stay with me tonight.”


He kissed her again.



Ian pulled away, breathing hard, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against hers. He held her tightly to him, as though knowing what he wanted to do but unsure of continuing.


“Hey,” Colette whispered. She ran her fingers through his hair, tracing her fingertips delicately along the back of his neck. “It's okay.” She assured. “It's-”


She couldn't finish, as he once again kissed her passionately. Desperately. Months of hidden emotion, denied lust, poured into it as though somewhere inside him a dam had broken. The intensity of it took her off guard and stole her breath.


His hand wandered to her hip, slipping under the blouse she wore and trailing along the soft skin of her hip. She breathed a shallow sigh. Ian thrilled at the sound and took it as encouragement. Her fingers moved to loosen his tie while his body pressed against hers, guiding her backward through the door and toward the bedroom as she tugged at his shirt and fumbled with the buttons.


Colette's fingers felt cold, her hands tingled, her core boiling frenetically. Whereas anticipation made her hands clumsy, it had the opposite effect on the lanky doctor. A low moan escaped her as his lips grazed along her neck, his fingers slipping the blouse from her shoulders before helping her remove his own shirt.


His hands, long and slender, were surprisingly strong, and even more surprisingly assertive as they moved along her body, keeping her close, seemingly guided by plans long in the making.


“Ian,” she muttered breathlessly, pleadingly, warm against his neck.


Nobody had ever said his name in that way before. He liked it. His spine surged as though electrically charged as her fingers traced thin lines down it and along the line of his belt.


The back of her leg brushed against the edge of the bed.


“I love you.” He repeated as she trailed fevered kisses across his collarbone.


“I love you, too.” She assured him again, an excited frustration building in her as he slowed, his enthusiasm once again reined in. His fingertips trailed gently up her side, grazing over the thin lace of her bra and up to her shoulder. She melted into the feeling of his hands touching her that way.


Her hands wandered up his back, her eyes taking in the man in front of her, resting at the angry scar on his neck he worked to keep hidden. Without a shirt, it lay bare in the light. She reached up, touching it lightly with her fingertips. Ian winced, his hand flying to hers, holding it tightly. She stared at him in surprise. He swallowed self-consciously, kissing her fingertips and gently lowering her hand.


Her heart raced and her thoughts faded. She felt dizzy. She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pulled him closer. She had wanted this for so long, had waited so patiently, knowing Ian Pearson was the kind of man who needed to take his time. She had been happy every minute in his presence, still her body hungered for him. Ached. Starved for the way he touched her now. Her lips parted slightly as he kissed her. He replied in kind and her tongue skimmed along the edge of his lips. Their tongues danced as Ian's hand slid up her back.


Her skin, hypersensitive from the long months of anticipation, prickled and chilled in excitement.


“Are you cold?” He asked in quiet concern, breaking the kiss, his fingers tracing along her neck. She smiled, shaking her head only slightly.


“No.” She said, her voice barely a whisper and her eyes still closed, drinking in the feeling as she explained the goosebumps sweeping over her in waves.“It's you.”


Never in his life had Ian Pearson seen himself as the kind of man who could give a woman goosebumps.


“Is this okay?”


She opened her eyes to meet his, studying her with desire hampered by concern. Her heart sank at the doubt in his face.


“Colette, I...” Ian licked his lips, stammering. “I want to, I – I've never-”


Colette raised her eyebrows in understanding.


“It's okay.” She reassured him softly. His fingers wandered down her back once again, playing against the waistband of her trousers as hers trailed through the curls of hair behind his ear. The lace of her bra caressed his chest with the rise and fall of her breathing.


“Don't over-think it.” She whispered. “Just... feel.” Her fingertips trailed lightly over the curve of his shoulder. “Just be here.”


He lowered his head, catching her lips in another spine-tingling kiss as he pulled her to him. He lowered her to the bed. His fingers fumbled with the button of her trousers. She reached down to assist him, helping him slide the fabric from her hips and down her legs. He discarded them on the cold wood floor, his attention completely given over to the sight of the woman before him.


Ian ran a hand over her body, his attention turned to the tattoos scattered over her skin, laid bare in the light like the scar on his neck. Colette lay still, watching him, feeling her face flush self-consciously.


“Did they hurt?” He asked at last.


“What?” She asked, glad he had broken the silence.


“Your tattoos.” He said, tracing a finger along the outline of a large tattoo on her left inner forearm. A watercolor portrait of two children playing.


“I guess...They're not comfortable, at least... Good way of dealing with other kinds of pain, though.” She laughed at herself. “God, that sounds pathetic.”


Ian grinned at her humor.


“Studies have shown we seek out physical pain as an act of emotional catharsis.” He mused. “I mean, we've known that for years it's been a component of self-harm, but studies are showing it actually works.” He paused. “Not... not the self-harm... the physical pain, it's - “


“I know what you're saying.” She interrupted gently, entwining her fingers with his, resigned to the slowed momentum of their foreplay. “I just figure... those times when you hurt so badly it feels like the world might end... I should at least have something beautiful to take away.”


“So what's that, then?” Ian asked, lifting her hand and indicating her forearm.


“A portrait of me and my cousin when we were little.” Colette told him. “We we close. I got it back in college.” she continued. “When he died... overdose.”


Ian was quiet. He balanced on the bed, one knee propped between her legs, one foot on the floor. Lightly he brushed one of her bra straps aside, tracing his fingertips over the words “Do good” tattooed simply across her right collar bone.

“And this?” He asked.


“I spent a semester homeless.” She told him. “I was studying abroad... my landlord hiked the rent and kicked me out.”


Ian looked shocked. Colette shrugged. “Couldn't tell anyone. I didn't want to be deported. But I learned how people treat you when you've got nothing. I got that when I came home to remind me.”


“And this?” He asked gently, his fingertips caressing the words “Be brave” tattooed in matching style across her left collar bone.


“Things started looking bad for my mom.” She said simply.


Ian was quiet, his hand sliding down her body over the silky curve of her hip to a rather stunning interpretation of a piece by Alfonse Mucha.


“Bad relationship... abusive, really.” She confessed before he could ask “Couldn't take it anymore. The time in the chair gave me the clarity I needed to finally end it.”


Colette's breath caught in her throat as she watched his eyes follow the lines of ink etched into her. He looked at her more deeply than any man had, even those she had slept with before him. It left her feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with her lack of clothes. He said nothing. His hand wandered back up, over her stomach and up to her ribs to a crow, etched into her right side, just under her bra line. “This?” He nearly whispered, his voice dry.


“They stay. In the winter, when everything else is gone.” She admitted, her voice shaking and barely audible. “'Leave your old life behind, die and be born again – wherever you arrive, they'll be there first, glossy and rowdy and indistinguishable. The deep muscle of the world.'” She tried to smile as she quoted the poem, feeling bare against his gaze. “Mary Oliver.”


Ian was silent. He stared at the artwork; beautiful scars marking invisible pain, healed but not forgotten. He leaned, balancing himself on his elbows, inches above her thigh. He lowered his head, closing his eyes as his lips gently grazing the top of the colorful image. Her warm skin pricked in gooseflesh, her body pulling away instinctively, as if shielding itself from pain. He ran his hands gently and reassuringly up her body, holding her waist as he inched slowly up, kissing her ribs at the edge of the of the inky black tattoo. He felt her inhale sharply and shallowly, as if the touch of his lips shocked her. He continued his slow, focused traverse up her body.


Colette's breathing intensified as she willed herself to lay still, feeling his skin ghost over hers, his lips kissing away wounds her heart and long carried. With capable hands, he slid her bra straps from her shoulders. She exhaled sharply as his kisses landed on her collarbone. She closed her eyes as he continued his silent, serious mission, lifting her hand, trailing kisses from her wrist to the crook of her elbow before settling himself over her, his lips against hers. She kissed him fiercely, her arms wrapping around him tightly, as though searching for something stable to keep her from sinking.


He kissed back, lifting her slightly, helping her steady herself as she unhooked her bra and slipped it from her body. He tossed it aside carelessly his hand pressing against her back firmly, holding her skin to his. Colette's hand wandered down as she kissed him, pressing against the strain of his trousers. Ian moaned, his hips bucking unconsciously against her hand. She sat up, her hands fumbling as she pulled against the button and undid the zipper. He helped her, quickly shedding the trousers and making a grab for her panties, which just as quickly joined the pile of clothes collecting on the floor.


Ian sat on the edge of the bed, Colette balanced against him, her body pressed tightly to his. A moan escaped him as she settled herself onto him, rocking rhythmically. He clutched at her hips. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.


“Oh, God.” He muttered huskily, his hips gradually meeting her rhythm, thrusting into the warmth of her center. She moaned. His fingers raked against her bare back while his free hand cupped her breast, eliciting a surprised whimper from Colette's lips. She pressed herself against his hand and he obliged, kneading her breast with his long, soft fingers.


A boldness filled him, and Ian twisted his body, sending Colette's back crashing against the mattress as he pressed tightly against her, pinning her down with every inch of himself. Slowly but firmly, he worked his way in, thrusting deeply. He breathed heavily as she moaned, her knees bending, her legs wrapping around him, pulling him to her. He rocked his hips, in and out, the friction and pressure building between them. His pelvic bone rubbed, unrelenting, against her most sensitive spot.


“Ooh, God, Ian.” Colette moaned, her voice changing pitch, her back arching. He kneaded her breast. She raked her fingers over his shoulder, her other hand reaching behind her, making fists in the sheets and pillows, her body tensing.


He slowed. Colette's body relaxed.


“Don't stop.” She begged, panting. “God, please, don't.”


He continued, slowly and steadily, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, his fingers entwining with hers while he held himself steady with the other hand. She ran her fingers through his hair, tangling them in the curls. Her eyes closed, unable to open as she was swept away. He filled her completely, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge and each retreat teasing the nerves inside her.


“Colette.” He ran his fingers through her hair.


She opened her eyes and met his, glazed with need. She kissed him, hot and hard and needy. His hips bucked hard against hers, sending a shocked yelp from her throat.


His pace quickened again. Again, the pressure built. Colette's muscles tightened. Her hands ran the length of Ian's back, slicked with sweat, muscles pulsing under the skin.


Ian clutched her hips, pulling them closer to him as he thrust deeply inside her, the swelling pressure suddenly releasing as she tightened around him. She moaned loudly, almost screaming his name, and sending him over the edge. He fell into the abyss willingly, his body spasming as he held Colette close, her body warm and soft and sweet.


The waves ebbed. He collapsed against against her, both of them breathing hard. He rolled, laying on his side, brushing the hair from his face and blinking hard. Colette rolled to face him, her arm hooking around his waist as she snuggled next to him.


“Wow.” he breathed at last.


“Mm.” Colette agreed sleepily, her forehead resting against his chest.


He traced a finger along her spine, waves of bliss fading into waves of exhaustion.


The pair lay for some time, wrapped in each other's arms. The silence was comfortable and intimate, still Ian felt as though he should say something.

“Colette?” He kissed the top of her head.


“Hm?” She acknowledged, drifting in and out.


“Want some water?” He asked, wondering if the question sounded as awkward to her as it sounded to him.


“Sure.” She muttered, not moving. He smiled.


“Okay.” He said. He didn't move, instead resting his head deeper against the pillow.


Colette chuckled. Ian grinned.


“I love you.” Colette raised her face to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin glowing.


“I love you too.” He replied, pulling the now messy blankets up and tucking them firmly around her. Colette snuggled closer to him. Ian relaxed into the pillow, and together, they drifted off to sleep.



© Copyright 2019 Jen Lattimer. All rights reserved.

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