Inked on Paper - Nicole Edwards Page 0,41

white smile captivated me. She was beautiful in a very sweet-meets-sexy sort of way. The tattoos, strangely colored hair, and the piercings gave her a sensual edge that I found sexy as hell.

“It’s possible,” she tossed back. “What’re you writing?”

I glanced down at the page. “Uh…”

“Your secret’s out now, Clark, I know who you are. No sense hiding that S on your chest any longer.”

I won’t lie, it stroked my ego that she’d compared me to Superman. I laughed. “Join me?”

“If, by that, you mean, feel free to have a seat at a table nearby, then sure, I’ll join you.”

I watched as Presley removed her coat, placing it over the back of her chair and revealing the black hoodie beneath. She was wearing black leggings and lace-up boots, with the oversized sweatshirt concealing what I assumed had to be some wicked-ass curves. She looked comfortable, as though she’d just tumbled out of bed and slid right into her boots—something I personally wanted to see one day.

As I sipped my coffee, I tilted my head just so and discreetly admired her very, very nice ass. Those leggings… Whoever created those was fucking brilliant.

But then she cut off my view when she sat down at the table adjacent to mine.

“Trouble sleeping?” I asked, curious as to why she was at the coffee shop so early.

“You could say that.” Presley leaned in closer. “I’ve got a roommate who likes his females loud. Makes sleeping difficult.”

“I know the feeling. I’ve got a loud one at home, too.”

A frown replaced her smile and Presley’s eyes instantly darted down to my hand. I realized she was looking for a ring. I didn’t need to say how much I liked that she did.

I held up my hand, showing her there wasn’t one. “Cat.”

“Ah. Gotcha. I’ve heard some men like loud pussy, but that’s kinda taking it to the extreme, don’t you think?”

I leaned back in my chair and regarded her momentarily. I liked her. Liked the way she said what was on her mind. She seemed to be lacking a filter, which was nice in an oddly arousing sort of way.

“It keeps the women at bay,” I told her. “When I tell ’em I’ve already got pussy at home, they tend to leave it at that.”

Presley’s throaty chuckle made the hair on my entire body stand on end. It was fucking hot, just like the rest of her.

“So, no wife?”

I smirked and noticed her cheeks turn pink. Today, Presley wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. Her skin was flawless, her lips a soft pink. She looked young. Very young.

“No wife,” I confirmed. “No mistress, no girlfriend, no booty call.”

“Ah.” Presley took a sip of her coffee, regarding me seriously. “You’re gay.”

I choked a laugh. “Not that I know of, no.”

“Hmm. So what’s a handsome, successful writer doing single?”

I glanced down at the notebook, ignoring how much I liked that she’d called me handsome. This girl was certainly good for my ego. “Writing.”

“I see that. More words than last week?”

I nodded, then glanced down at her sketchbook. “And you? What’re you working on?”

Presley placed a small hand over the sketchbook. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

We let the silence settle between us briefly, neither of us speaking, until finally her grin reappeared and she met my gaze.

“I’d ask if you come here often, but that’s a cheesy line,” Presley said, taking the lid off her coffee and blowing into the cup.

My body hardened instantly, my dick twitching to life when her pretty pink lips formed a perfect O. I noticed her tongue was pierced and my cock swelled more. I immediately looked away, pretending to be distracted by something outside. Not wanting her to know that I was suddenly imagining her lips wrapped around my dick, her tongue doing wicked things to me.

I shook off the image, cleared my throat. “I come here often, yes. You?”

“Not much, no. But I like the coffee. And the quiet.”

I knew when to take a hint, so I nodded and raised my cup toward her in a silent salute.

Then, with a beautiful woman sitting not too far away from me, I put down my cup and picked up my pen.

Two hours and another cup of coffee later, I looked up to see that Presley was still there, still sitting at the table next to mine. She was leaning forward, sketching something in her notebook. Since her arm was in the way, I

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