Texting The Tattooist Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
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That’s fine. I can tell you what to do… and I could say the same thing to you.

Do you want a photo?

Yes.

I stare at the photo of him, at my name, the proof.

I’m rushing across the room – my panties rubbing with even more sensitivity against my sex – I scrawl his name and today’s date.

I take a selfie with my cruddy camera, just of my face and the date.

I’m fully aware this could be a dream.

I could wake on the couch, Mom’s hand on my shoulder, telling me I was moaning about somebody called Killian in my sleep.

CHAPTER 5

Killian

I’m in the bathroom adjacent to my main tattoo studio, the door locked, panting out a beastly breath as I stare at the photo she sent me. Her lips are pursed, the small note covering one cheek, the other flushed with lust.

I read her text again.

She’s never touched herself before.

She couldn’t have chosen something better to inflame my lust if she tried, my balls full, seed writhing up and down my shaft. Precome leaks out of my helm.

I didn’t plan on sending steamy messages. But I can’t even think about her without wanting to unleash the lust in my body.

Are you going to be good and touch yourself for me? I text.

Do you want me to? she replies.

I sit on the toilet seat, pull down my jeans, and take out my cock. Some part of me is aware of how wrong this is.

It’s late, and Graham was my final client for the day, but this is still my place of work.

I’m not the sort of man to masturbate at work or in public. I never have. The thought would’ve seemed insane to me before I laid eyes on my Mia.

But now there’s this primal drum beating through me, making it feel like I’ll die if I don’t grab my bulging shaft and think of her, my woman, touching her innocent slit as I guide her.

My cock is massive and hard, thick in my hand as I begin to stroke.

Slide your hand down your perfect, curvy body into your panties and start gently rubbing your clit, then close your eyes and imagine it’s me. Imagine I’m there with you, rubbing that needy clit, so your pussy gets even wetter for me. I’m getting you ready for my hard cock. I’m so hard for you.

Really?

Are you doing it? I text right away.

Yes. I’m rubbing myself. It feels so good… but only because I’m thinking of you.

Why have you never done it before?

She replies, I’ve never felt the need before. But I do now.

The need.

She’s driving me closer and closer to the edge, my hand stroking from my helm to my base, spreading the precome as I imagine it’s her hand, and then her soft mouth, her lips open as she nervously sucks up and down my shaft.

What would you do next? she sends.

You tell me.

No, she replies. Could you do it? Please.

I type furiously. I’d rub your clit gently until you’re ready for me to press down with all the lust burning inside of me. And then I’d make you say ‘please.’ You’d moan it over and over again, wouldn’t you? Like the obedient young thing you are.

Yes, Mia texts. I’d do whatever you asked. Please let this be real.

Real?

Not a trick.

It’s not a trick. I clench my jaw at the thought. I’ll never trick you. I want you so badly it hurts. I’d come to get you right now….

In person? I can’t. I’m sorry.

Just keep rubbing that virgin slit for me.

I close my eyes as I wait for her response, picturing her lying beneath me as I slide my finger inside of her, then free her breasts and start sucking her nipples, first one and then the other, sucking them until I can feel the lust shiver through her.

But minutes pass, and I open my eyes.

No response.

I finally see myself.

Just a man jacking off at work.

What’s wrong with me?

With the spell broken – no reply coming – it suddenly seems pathetic.

What makes you think I’m a virgin? Her text finally comes.

I guessed, I reply. Am I wrong?

Does it matter? she shoots back.

It would make me want her more, knowing not only has she never touched herself, but no other man has ever stroked her soaked pussy, ever sucked her clit, and then licked down to her slit, pushing his tongue inside of her to taste her tanginess.

No, I text, lying. Just keep rubbing your pussy.

I am, I am.

She can tell me the truth when I meet her in person.

Explain exactly what you’re doing.

Suddenly, any notions of self-reflection are gone. I don’t care if I’m at work, only about the thought that somewhere, my eager probably-a-virgin girl is touching her body.

I’ve got my hand in my pajama bottoms, in my panties. I’m rubbing my clit, and it feels real, real hot. It feels like all this pressure’s building.


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