“What conversation?” Garrett queries, confused.

“Nothing!” I blurt, as Diesel laughs.

“You’ll find out. Go on, get your shit, I’ll get it set up down here,” Diesel tells him, as he downs some coffee.

They both rush off and leave me in the kitchen. Fuck, I didn’t think this through. Hot as hell Garrett tattooing me while Diesel watches?

This dick ban is going out the window, I can feel it. Stupid vagina and its dick obsession.

I’m lying on one of the sun loungers from outside, which we pulled into the living room, in just my knickers and a crop top. My outside leg is exposed, with me positioned on my side, so he can look at the existing tattoo while I explain what I want. “I can do free hand if you trust me,” he murmurs.

“No dicks,” I snap, as he cleans the area. I’m shaved at least, so there’s no need for that.

He smirks but doesn’t respond. Diesel is behind me, his eyes locked on my ass. The dirty bastard. He’s watching for me to get all hot and bothered so he can tattle to Garrett.

“What about a snake?” he asks, and I freeze. He looks up. “You can say no, but I could put a viper in there.”

“Just do it.” Diesel grins.

The fact that he asks makes me sigh. Diesel’s right, they could have just done it. After all, they still class me as theirs. But the idea of having a viper on me is actually appealing. I imagine their eyes lighting up when they see it, and Ryder’s and Kenzo’s reactions…hell yes. Plus, it doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s just a snake, nothing else. “Sure.” I shrug. “I trust you.” And I mean it, I do. Garrett would never hurt me. He’s an enforcer for a living, but in here? His home? He’s a protector.

I lay my head on my arm as the buzz of the needle starts, and he draws closer, one hand braced on my thigh as the other presses the needle to my skin. He does a tiny line then stops and watches me, clearly expecting me to wimp out. “Babe, I’m covered in tattoos,” I remind him, and he smirks, starting back up again.

I watch him for the first part. The concentration on his face and the way he bites down on his lip is adorable. He seems relaxed, which is a first, comfortable. Is this what he does to escape? Like Kenzo’s mother’s grave and Diesel’s torture? Maybe, either way, I’m happy to help, and as the pain sinks into my bones with the humming of the needle, I try not to shift or give any indication that it’s getting to me.

Because, fuck, it is. Having him so close to my pussy, his scarred, tattooed knuckle touching my skin as he inks me? It’s hot as hell. Those same hands, capable of such death and destruction, are creating beautiful artwork on my skin, mixing with the pain. Yeah, I’m wet.

I’m betting Diesel knows as well, but Garrett seems oblivious as I shift awkwardly to try and relieve the pressure on my pussy. I close my eyes and imagine anything else, but with each swipe of the cloth and each buzz of the needle, I’m aware of how close he is. How near his hand is to my pussy. Of the pleasure he can bring, even now as it hurts. I bite my lip to stop my gasp from escaping, restraining myself from tilting my hips as my pussy clenches, my knickers dampening with need.

“Okay there, Little Bird?” Diesel questions, and I can hear the amusement and desire in his tone. The asshole is probably getting a kick out of this. Wait, of course he is—this is torture for me, he would love that. I’m surprised he’s not bloody stroking his cock, though Garrett might hit him if he did.

“Fine,” I reply breathlessly.

The buzzing stops, and Garrett lifts his head, frowning at me. “You sure?” he asks, obviously thinking I’m in pain.

Fuck me.

“Yes, Little Bird, you sure?” Diesel laughs.

Garrett seems confused, and I sigh. “Dude, I’m fine, Diesel is just teasing me because I like the pain of tattoos.”

Garrett frowns harder, watching me, and then it seems to click, and his eyes widen and his mouth drops open, making me grin. “I bet you don’t get that with this lot, do you?” I tease.

He actually blushes, which causes me to laugh harder. “I don’t—fuck, baby,” he rasps, looking from my face back to my tattoo. “Now I’m going to be hard while I try to do this.”

“Well then, we’re both struggling.” I snigger.

He takes a deep breath, but then groans again. “Fuck,” I hear him mutter, and then the buzzing starts up. I stop trying to hide my reaction, because honestly, watching him struggle is fun.

When he covers a particularly sore patch, a moan slips free, and he swears, his head whipping up as he glares at me while Diesel laughs. “I swear to God, you do that again, and I’ll screw the tattoo and just fuck you instead.”

“Nope, tattoo first, big guy,” I counter, as he moves my leg around to get another angle and starts again, but every now and then, his gaze drifts up to my eyes, and when he turns to dip the needle in the ink, he stares at me knowingly.

Diesel shuffles closer, and his breath wafts over my ear as the buzzing begins. I don’t look at the tattoo, wanting it to be a surprise when it’s all done. “I wonder if he will let you come after, or if you will by the time he finishes,” he whispers loudly, so Garrett can hear. “I think he’s imagining all the ways he can fuck you on this chair. I know I am, Little Bird.”

“Diesel,” Garrett snaps, before sighing as he stops again. “Behave, both of you.”

We both laugh, and Diesel strokes up my arm and around to my chest, cupping my unbound breast through my shirt. I didn’t bother to put a bra on, sometimes your tatas just have to go free. But that means he grabs my bare breast, tweaks my nipple, and makes me moan again. Garrett swears. Licking my ear, Diesel chuckles as he twists and flicks it until I jerk in the chair and Garrett snaps away. “Fuck,” he growls. “I’ve only been at it two hours, and I have at least another thirty minutes to go.”

“Thirty minutes?” I laugh, as Diesel plucks and twists my nipples. “Yeah, I won’t last that long.”

Garrett appears pained as he watches Diesel touch me, his hand still on my thigh as he tries to calm himself enough to return to inking me. “I have an idea, Little Bird.” Diesel grins and then looks to Garrett. “I can keep her distracted. She can sit on my cock while you finish up.”

“How will that fucking help? You think I can work with her moaning and screaming?” he growls.

Diesel laughs. “Not fucking, not moving, just being inside her, teasing her. Torturing her.” Garrett’s eyes darken at that. “And when you’re done, I’ll make her scream for you.”

Fuck me. Literally.

Someone better fuck me right now.

My eyes nearly roll back into my head at the idea as I arch my chest into his hand, wanting that so badly. “You can fuck my mouth,” I offer Garrett, and he snaps.

He rips off his gloves and storms away. Two minutes later, he’s back and glaring at us. “This is going to be the longest half hour of my life,” he mutters. “Fine, while I wash my hands, do it.”

I suck in a breath, my body trembling at the thought. Diesel wants to torture me, have his cock in me while Garrett tattoos my flesh. This will be pure fucking hell, and I can’t wait. While Garrett stomps away, Diesel uses his knife to cut off my knickers before sliding in behind me on the chair. I have to inch forward, so I’m nearly falling off. He lifts my leg and drapes it over his, his cock against my soaked pussy.