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  Carrie laughed, blushing, asking him, “How does it look?”

  “Sexy as hell.”

  Brad nodded, agreeing. “Tattoos like you.”

  “Can I see?” She rolled to her side, going over to the full length mirror hanging on the wall and turning so her back was to it. Her jeans were still undone, open in front, revealing the black lace top of her panties, but she was focused on her back where the tattoo had transformed her skin with black swirls, the pattern drawing the eye toward both dimples on each side of her ass. It was far sexier than she had imagined, and when she looked up at Brad and Wilson and saw identical looks of restrained hunger on their faces, she knew Doc would love it.

  Brad cleared his throat. “Like it?”

  “Love it!” She pulled her jeans all the way up, buttoning and zipping. “Thank you so much!”

  “No problem.” Brad led them to the front of the shop. “Come back when you want a real one.”

  She smiled, waving as they pulled on their coats and pushed open the door. “Maybe I will.”

  Wilson’s Camaro got them back to her apartment in record time.

  “Do you still want to order dinner?” she offered, her hand on the car door handle.

  “Do you want to?” Wilson shrugged, rubbing at his goatee. “I don’t want to impose. This was supposed to be a threesome sort of thing.”

  His words hung there, the suggestion in them palpable.

  “Come on.” Carrie reached over and turned the key in the ignition to shut off the engine, sliding it out and putting them in his pocket. “It will be fun. Mexican food and reruns of I Love Lucy. What’s better than that?”

  “Can’t think of much.” Wilson followed her into the apartment.

  As promised, the little Mexican place around the corner delivered hot tamales and quesadillas in under an hour. Wilson ate four burritos while Carrie ate only half her quesadilla, putting the tamales away for Doc.

  “He hasn’t called me yet,” Carrie pouted, glancing at the clock. It was already late—going on ten—and she’d hoped he’d be back in time to at least hang out with them for a while.

  “Emergency rotation is crazy.” Wilson wadded up his napkin and sat back with a groan, patting his belly. “That was so good. I’m stuffed.”

  “Hey, can I ask you something?”

  He raised his pierced eyebrow, glancing at her. “Sure.”

  “What do you think of Daphne?”

  “Nice girl.” He closed his eyes, sinking lower in the couch. “Cute. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” She couldn’t help but wonder, after seeing them together. Daphne hadn’t answered her phone that morning and she hadn’t had a chance to call her again to see if Wilson had actually stayed a while at her place—or if she had gone to his. She found herself thinking about them together, wondering if Daphne knew just what Wilson had tattooed on his cock.

  He squirmed on the couch, making a face. “Damn thing’s really starting to sting.”

  “Your tattoo?”

  “Yeah.” He sat up, pulling off his shirt and looking over his shoulder. Carrie looked, too, she could help it. He was just as well-built as her husband—a little leaner, lankier, but still, nice washboard abs and a broad chest. Daphne could do worse, she thought.

  “This is why I’m a fan of temporary ones.” She leaned over to inspect the damage on his bicep. “No pain at all.”

  “Want to do me a favor?” Wilson reached into his jean pocket, pulling out a little packet. He tore it open with his teeth and squirted something gel-like onto his bicep, starting to rub it in. “Can you put some of this on my back? I can’t reach.”

  “Sure.” She spread the grease all along his shoulder where the snake coiled, each scale a dark, almost glowing green singed with black.

  Wilson hissed through his teeth, glancing back at her.

  “Hurt?” She tried to do it more lightly, although she found herself wanting to really massage it into his skin, dig her fingers deep into his muscles. She smirked. “You must have had fun after you got the tattoo on your cock.”

  “Unfortunately, I wasn’t dating anyone at the time.” He laughed. “But I did have a bit of fun all by myself.”

  She grinned. “I bet.”

  “Thanks.” He pulled his shirt slowly back on and they both got up to wash their hands.

  “What a waste of lubricant,” Carrie remarked, soaping up.

  “I’ll say.” Wilson dried his hands on the kitchen towel, glancing at her standing at the sink. “That tattoo is so sexy peeking over your jeans like that.”

  She glanced behind, pushing her bottom out, trying to see. “Is it?”

  “Doc’s gonna have fun all over that thing, isn’t he?”

  She laughed. “I sure hope so.”

  As if on cue, the phone rang. She grabbed it off the wall, sure it was him, and it was.

  “Another hour?” She sighed, looking over at Wilson, still fiddling with the towel. “Yeah, he’s still here. Do you want him to wait?”

  “I gotta get going anyway.” Wilson tossed the towel onto the counter. “I’m on call tomorrow.”

  Carrie listened as Doc talked to someone in the background. Then he said, “I love you, baby. I gotta run,” and hung up.

  “Well I guess I’ll watch my I Love Lucy video boxed set all by myself.”

  Wilson hesitated, his coat half-on. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “No, it’s okay.” She smiled. “Doc will be home soon.”

  “Well, thanks for dinner.” He stopped at the door. “Tell Doc I said goodbye.”

  Carrie went over and put her arms around him, giving him a hug. “Thanks for taking me home. And thanks for talking me into a temporary tattoo. I think Doc’s really gonna like it.”

  “I’m sure he will.” He gave her a lop-sided smile and then he was gone. She heard the engine of the Camaro start up outside, a loud roar subsiding to a gentle purr.

  Carrie peeked out the blinds, watching him pull away, and then, instead of putting in a VHS tape, she turned off the lights and settled herself on the couch in the darkness. She couldn’t stop thinking about the tattoo on Wilson’s cock. Was it Celtic, like the one on her back? A snake? He seemed to like snakes. Maybe something funny or silly?

  She undid her jeans, easing them down her hips, all too aware of the temporary tattoo on her lower back, like a brand. She smiled, imagined Doc’s reaction, rubbing her fingers over the wet, black crotch of her panties. They were soaked—she hadn’t realized how excited she was, how very turned-on. The sexual tension between she and Wilson tonight had been almost tangible.

  Not that she would ever do anything about it, she chided herself, fingers circling her clit, sending hot ripples through her body. She started like Wilson’s car—fireworks and then a low, purring rumble, a slow, hot revving up that swelled toward something more.

  She wished she’d gotten a chance to ask him about Daphne. Had he fucked her? She could call her friend, of course, and find out, but she decided to ease the sexual tension before satisfying her curiosity. Besides, she could imagine them together, imagine Daphne’s mouth stretched over his tattooed cock, his fingers playing in her red bush. That was fun.

  It was more fun to imagine herself between them, though, she discovered. Her pussy fattened at the thought, heating up nicely under her hand, imagining Wilson’s cock sliding into her own pussy, oh, yeah, just like that—she shoved three fingers in, imagining taking him like that, Daphne kneeling over her face, presenting her with her own wet pussy.

  Carrie wanted him. She wanted Daphne, too. God, what’s wrong with me? she thought, her face flushing at her own greedy, lustful fantasies. Was she so depraved? It had to be wrong, thinking like this, wanting more than what Doc could possibly give her. But the more she let herself think about it, the more she craved, like a woman crawling across a desert in search of water.

  “Mmmmm yeah,” she whispered, licking her lips, trying to taste Daphne there. She licked her own fingers for inspi
ration, rubbing rapidly at her clit. “Oh, yeah, fuck me, Wilson. Fuck me with that big, fat, tattooed cock.”

  Oh, God, that was good. What did he look like with his hair down, she wondered? All that long, dark hair, that sexy little goatee, tattoos over his belly and chest and arms. Were there other piercings she couldn’t see?

  She gasped when she heard Doc fumbling with his keys outside the door, paralyzed in the darkness on the sofa. But instead of hurrying to pull up her pants, she yanked them off, getting up to go meet him at the door wearing just her panties and a t-shirt.

  She was on him the instant the door swung open.

  “Woah, what—?”

  She didn’t let him answer, crushing his mouth with hers, suffocating him, already unzipping his coat, working the buttons on his shirt.

  “Welcome home,” he joked as she pulled him toward the bedroom. She turned on the light, letting him see her standing there in her black thong, but she didn’t turn around, not yet.

  “Are you going to go back and get a tattoo?” she asked, watching as he left his shirt and coat on the floor while she got down on her knees to undo his belt.

  “Maybe. Do you want me to?”

  “It might be sexy. Something here...” She kissed his belly as she unzipped him. “Or here...” She reached up to tweak his nipple. Then she got down to business, yanking his pants and boxers down, taking the head of his soft cock into her mouth. “What about here?”

  He chuckled, watching her swallow his cock. It was growing harder by the second. “I don’t think so. Not unless you’re getting one.”

  She spit on his cock, rubbing the head against her lips. “I dare you.”

  “Maybe if you promise to suck it like that every night,” he groaned, sliding deeper into her throat.

  “I’d suck it like this every night anyway.”

  Doc reached down to fondle her breasts through her t-shirt, thumbing her nipples, making them hard. She was already soaking wet and ready for him, but she wanted him to see.

  “Guess what I did?” She swallowed, looking up at him with bright eyes.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “Look.” She stood, turning around and walking toward the bed, hips swinging. Then she crawled up onto it, waving her ass, and pulled off her t-shirt, undoing her bra and tossing it aside.

  “Oh, God.” His voice was a whisper, eyes wide. “Oh, my fucking God. I am so going to come all over that.”

  She pulled her panties down her thighs, spreading herself wide for him. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

  He found her as if his cock was steel and her pussy a magnet, drawn right into her wetness. Grabbing her hips, he shoved himself deep into her pussy on the first go, parting her flesh easily.

  “So fucking wet!” he gasped, fucking her from behind as he stood next to the bed. “Oh, baby, that tattoo is the sexiest damned thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She moaned, wiggling her ass back against him. “Like it?”

  “Fuck yeah.” He rolled his hips, working his cock into her inlet, his thumbs rubbing over the dark lines and curves of the tattoo on her back. “Hot. Fucking hot. Oh, God.”

  “Fuck me, Doc,” she panted, rubbing her pussy from underneath, feeling the hard drive of his cock and wanting more. “Do it hard! Come on!”

  “Jesus, baby.” He grabbed her hips, pounding into her, trying to give her what she asked for. She could feel his cock getting bigger inside of her, his own excitement building, catching up to hers.

  “Deeper! Oh, yeah! Give me that big fucking dick in my cunt! Gimme, gimme, gimme!” she chanted, her fingers circling her clit, pushing herself closer and closer to the brink.

  Doc grunted, slapping her ass, leaving a red handprint and making her shriek in surprise. Her pussy spasmed in response and she bit her lip, hovering just at the verge of climax.

  “Yes!” she panted. “Spank me! Spank that ass!”

  Doc gave up, grunting and slapping her again, his cock working deep inside of her.

  “I’m fucking coming!” she wailed, her nipples grazing the bed with every thrust, her pussy on fire. “Oh, now now now now now!”

  She writhed on the mattress, her body finally giving in, letting her have the thing she’d been chasing for what felt like forever. Her pussy snapped closed around Doc’s dick like a vise, squeezing his length and making him cry out in astonishment. The walls of her pussy contracted like a snake swallowing its prey, again and again, and she thought he might be pulling out of her just to save himself from the force of it.

  “I’m gonna come all over that hot fucking little tramp stamp,” he groaned, fisting his cock and pumping it violently against her ass. “Oh, yeah! Yeah! You ready for it? You want that cum all over your ass?”

  She shoved her hair out of her face, turning to look back at him over her shoulder. “Yes! Come on me! Come all over that hot little ass!”

  That was enough to send him over, a wet spurt of cum shooting from the tip of his cock and spraying her back with heat. It splattered her tattoo like a white Rorschach on black ink and Carrie moaned, reaching back to rub the cream into her skin. Doc shuddered, giving her more to work with, his cum sticky and hot under her fingers.

  Doc collapsed beside her on the bed as Carrie sank down to her belly, rolling gleefully back and forth on the covers, smiling to herself.

  “Wow, what was that about?” Doc panted, his hand resting in the middle of his chest, which was still rising and falling very fast.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I just wanted you.”

  “Nuh-uh.” He looked over at her, doubtful. “Something got you all riled up. Was it that hot little tramp stamp on your back?”

  He rolled toward her, dragging his finger over it, and laughed. “Your tattoo is rubbing off.”

  “Oh, damn.” She glanced over her shoulder, frowning. “He told me to use baby oil or vegetable oil to get it off. I guess cum works, too.”

  “I like it.” Doc traced the remaining lines. “Are you gonna get a real one?”

  “I doubt it.” She made a face. “Wilson’s was hurting him pretty bad tonight. He asked me to rub stuff all over it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Doc sat up on his elbow. “Is he what had you all horny tonight?”

  “No.” The flush in her cheeks gave her away.

  “Did you do something with him?” Doc asked slowly.

  “No,” she insisted, feeling the flush in her cheeks deepening. “But what if I did? Why is it okay if I do something with Daphne, but not with Wilson?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked blind-sided. “We hadn’t talked about that. I guess... it’s just... different.

  “I don’t think it is.”

  He blinked at her, finally asking, “Do you want to do something with Wilson?”

  “No.” Carrie sighed, rolling over and grabbing a pillow to hold onto. “I mean, it might be fun, but I wouldn’t want to do it if you’re not okay with it. I honestly haven’t thought about sex with another man in... well, since I met you.”

  “But you’re thinking about it now?”

  “Not right now,” she replied, glancing back at him “But in general... a little. Are you mad?”

  “No.” He slipped an arm around her, kissing her shoulder. “Hey, listen, not to change the subject, but I have bad news.”

  She winced. “How bad?”

  “I can’t make our flight.”

  “What?” She turned in his arms, frowning. “What do you mean?”

  “I have to work.” He sighed when her eyes starting filling with tears. She wiped at them angrily. “They put me on the schedule, even though I told them not to. What can I do?”

  “Well, what are we going to do?”

  “I guess I’ll just have to fly in a few days later.”

  She fought her tears again, but it was a losing battle. “What about me?”

  “I hate to transfer two tickets if we don’t have to. It costs money and we’re short enough this
month as it is.”

  “So you want me to fly out without you and stay with your parents for three days before you even show up?” She hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place! This was unbelievable.

  “Carrie, it’s Key West,” he pleaded. “You can laze around on the beach, go swimming, get a tan...”

  “Okay okay, I get it.” She sat up and reached for her t-shirt, pulling it back on. “I should feel guilty because you’re here working while I’m off having fun.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Fine.” She relented, sticking her tongue out at him. “I’ll go and have fun.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled, patting the bed beside him. “That’s all I can ask.”

  “But try to hurry.” She snuggled up to him as he pulled the covers over them both. “I miss you.”

  “Already?”

  “Always.”

  “Goodnight, baby.” He kissed her forehead as she drifted off to sleep, her cheek resting on his chest.

  * * * *

  The girls spent the morning shopping for last minute gifts and Carrie convinced Daphne to come back to her apartment to help her pack them up so she could ship them off to Florida.

  “If they lose these packages, there goes Christmas...” Carrie sighed, taping up the last box.

  “That’s why you buy insurance.”

  Carrie made a face. “Yeah, but you can’t open insurance on Christmas morning.”

  “Good point.” Daphne lifted a bottle to her friend’s glass. “Here, have more wine, you won’t think about it anymore.”

  “Oh, good, that will help me drown out the fact that I’m going to have to spend three days alone with Doc’s parents before he comes down.”

  “Oh, cry me a river!” Daphne laughed, rolling her eyes. “Three days without your husband on a beach in Florida?”

  “Well when you put it that way...” Carrie put the last package in the box, glancing over at her friend. “Hey, so tell me, did anything happen between you and Wilson?”

  “Nothing to write home about.” She shrugged, handing over the packing tape. “He stayed for a while when he dropped me off but nothing happened.”

  Carrie ripped off a strip of tape. “Do you like him?”