{GIANNA}
"One of these days, I'm going to be the one putting a tattoo on you," I tease Michael, watching intently as he drags the tattoo gun over the delicate skin of my wrist.
He glances up, eyes glittering. "I'd love that. Pretty sure I still have some space on my inner thigh. I can paint your lips with my precum while you work on tattooing my flesh."
"Michael," I whisper, scandalized, my cheeks flushing hot. But damn it if my nipples don't bead inside my bra, my core clenching so hard I actually worry I'll destroy my panties and have to change them again before we have to leave.
He just winks at me and continues his work like he didn't just flood my brain with hot-as-hell images that I know I won't rest until we recreate. Well, it's his skin that will end up with a sloppy tattoo when my hands shake from wanting him too much.
