Tattered Love (Needle's Kiss)

went with “hell fucking yes, more baby more”.
    “I’m gonna take you right here on this table, Scar, so every time you’re sitting here working, all you’ll be able to think about is coming apart on my mouth. Me fucking you hard, you screaming for me.” His words tore a moan from my throat. “You want that don’t you, Scar? You want me to drive my cock into you right here on this table.”
    “Please, Mace, please, I need it, now,” I begged, panting, squirming to relieve some of the aching between my legs.
    Mace abruptly stood, coming around behind me and spinning me so I was facing the table with him behind me. “Bend over the table.” The commanding voice he used sent an electric jolt straight to my pussy as he put his hand on my back, one at my waist, and bent me over, chest down to the red leather-covered tattoo table. He lifted my sundress and ripped my panties clean off, causing a flood of arousal from me. I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight. I just needed him. I needed to come. Somewhere in the back of my lust-dazed mind, I realized we were about to have sex in my shop, not the most hygienic activity, but I just couldn’t bring myself to give a damn.
    Mace’s fingers invaded my aching pussy fast and hard, his other hand running slowly up and down my ass cheek. I became frustrated; he had two of his glorious fingers inside me perfectly still, not moving, I needed him to move like I needed to breathe.
    Taking matters into my own hands, I started rocking my hips gently back and forward, even the slightest movement causing heat to bloom all across my body. Moaning and rocking, I started to move a little faster, Mace still running his hand across my backside. “That’s it, baby, ride my fingers.” His voice was heavy with desire.
    Mace reached up under the front of my dress and pinched one pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger; at the same time, he made a come hither motion with the two fingers he had inside of me. “Oh, fuck, Mace, I’m—I…Oh…” I lost the ability to speak, my body afire, what threatened to be an all-consuming orgasm barreling toward me.
    Mace moaned deep, his hand coming back to my ass as my walls started to contract. Rocking back and forth faster and harder, a quick sting came across my backside.
    He’d spanked me. I’d never been spanked before. Holy shit, that was good; it was enough to send me free falling over the cliff into an orgasm like never before. Shouting out my release and stilling, Mace suddenly filled me with his thick cock, slamming in, prolonging the shudders wracking my body.
    Sweet heaven above, I think I might black out.
    Mace pumped hard and fast gripping my hips as I used the edge of the table as leverage, pushing myself back into his groin, meeting him thrust for thrust. Another orgasm tore through me as Mace thrust deep one more time and stilled, his cock jerking inside me as he came. Collapsing over me, one shaking forearm holding him up so as not to squash me, he groaned.
    As my pulse slowed and my breathing returned to normal, thoughts rushed at me. I’d been spanked, never in my life had I been handled with such raw need and power during sex, and I fucking loved it. Mace knew what he was doing. He knew what he liked, and even more so, he seemed to be in tune with what I needed even if I didn’t. He reached over, grabbed some tissues cleaning us up before pulling us both up onto the table. Tucking me into the side of him, with my head on his chest, his large muscled arm wrapped around my body and minding his new tattoo, I asked, “Did you hurt it?”
    “Nah, it’s good.”
    Lying in the aftermath of explosive sex with Mace somehow felt very right. My defenses crumbled even more as he held me in his arms running his hand slowly up and down my arm. If I was being honest, I really liked it—maybe too much.
    Ah, shit.
    My fingers running lightly over the intricate tribal ink of his chest, I’d not had time to study his previous artwork in the heat of the moment.
    My hand stilled, running back over the black ink along his chest; something looked vaguely familiar about the lines and curves of his tattoo
    Wait...was that? My fingers moved again, my eyes following their movements.
    Spelling out the letters, he stilled, his body turning to stone when he realized I’d seen it.
    A name, directly over his heart, how could I not have seen that? It was so intricately woven within the borders of the tattoo, you’d have to