the kitchen table. Holding his hot gaze, I grab the waistband of my sweats and slowly lower them until the tip of my cock appears, poking impudently over the elastic.
“Jude,” he whispers, and then he’s on me, his mouth taking mine.
We kiss fiercely, but then I gather my wits and push him back. “Wait,” I say hoarsely, as he follows my lips like a drunken man. “Wait. We don’t want to hurt your chest.”
He looks down at his chest, and to my amazement, he smiles.
“Is there something funny about a work-based injury?” I say tartly. “Please don’t take any workplace training, because they will never understand this sudden humour of yours.”
“It wasn’t a sword,” he says.
“What?”
“It wasn’t a sword that did this.” He peels the bandage back, and I automatically close my eyes. I hate blood. “Look, Jude.” I can hear the laughter in the fucker’s voice, along with something else I can’t grasp.
I slowly open my eyes and gasp. “Oh, my God. You got a tattoo.”
He runs his fingers along the edge of the tattoo, which is situated neatly over his heart. “What do you think?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting one done? I’d have come with you.”
“Jude, you hate anything to do with blood. It was pretty obvious that you wouldn’t have sat for long in a tattoo parlour. Besides, it was a surprise for you.”
“What is it?” I ask, and he grins.
“Come and look.”
I lean forwards and gasp. “Is that Billy’s handprint?”
He nods. “I made him do a palmprint on a piece of paper and took it to Len, the tattooist.”
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. Done in soft pastel colours, the little boy’s palm reaches over Asa’s heart, the tiny whorls on his fingers done so carefully.
“That’s so appropriate.” I sniff emotionally. “Because he has your heart.”
“Not all of it,” he says softly. “Look at the writing.”
I bend and read the elegant script that flows and circles the palm print. “Isn’t that from the Beatles song, ‘Hey, Jude’?”
He nods. “It is just you. It always will be. I wanted you and Billy over my heart because it’s full of both of you.”
I feel tears in my eyes. My Asa. The eternal romantic. I sniff. “If ever I’m cross with you in the future, please take off your shirt and show me this tattoo.”
“I’m not sure that’ll go down too well in Sainsbury's on a Saturday afternoon.”
I shrug. “Not sure anything could make that better.” I hug him, listening to the noise his chuckle makes in his chest. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says gravely. “So much, sweetheart.”
He bends to kiss me, and I smile under his lips.
“What?” he asks, pulling back.
“Is it wrong that you branding yourself for me is making me hot?” He pulls out his phone, and I frown. “What are you doing?”
“Making an appointment for another tattoo.”
I burst out laughing. “Tattoos and a man bun. I’m a lucky man. Gimme a kiss.”
He takes my mouth hungrily, and my laughter dies to be replaced by frantic need. He’s been away for too long and last night barely took the edge off. I feel wild and desperate to get my hands on his skin, to feel it against me and take him inside me.
“Oh fuck,” I choke, pulling back to take a breath. “I need you,” I mutter, tugging at his jeans, and he nods, looking almost drunk.
“Get those off,” he says, nodding at my sweats, and I obey, pushing them fully off and enjoying the fact that my lack of clothes means that I get the time to watch him strip.
It’s my own personal show that some people would pay a fortune for – the sight of those broad, tanned shoulders emerging from his denim shirt, the tight belly and the jeans hanging from his hips showing off the taut skin over the blades of his hipbones. He eases them off, and I swallow hard at the sight of him naked, his big balls high and tight and his cock bouncing against his belly slick with pre-come that I can smell in the air.
“Oh God, I want you," I say desperately, and he nods and comes towards me, the room filling with the sounds of our groans as our bodies meet. “I don’t need much foreplay,” I babble. “In fact, I don’t need any. You breathe wrong, and I’ll come.” He opens his mouth to question that statement, and I shake my head. “No talking,” I say forcefully and his mouth quirks.