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Tattoo Studio
"Where are we going?"
Moreau raised her voice slightly, but her stepfather's body had already disappeared behind the door. The sudden tension felt like it was scattering and trying to get her lost. Should she acquiesce or stay in the room and Abihirt would come back and say everything she never wanted to hear? It was hard to decide. Really hard to had a good prospect in mind. Nevertheless, Moreau ultimately makes a choice that feels very tricky. She had repeatedly wanted to deny it, but being stranded here was a serious approach. There was no going back... when with Abihirt, their steps seemed to be facing an obsolete achievement. The man had never said that they were coming to the tattoo parlor. This really felt like an introduction. Moreau's attention was never-endingly fixed on the scenery around her. Everything that unfolded clearly to her eyes always seemed interesting. There was a wide variety of sample images displayed in almost every corner ofRelated chapters
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"I'm scared," she spoke nervously, knowing that when Abihirt didn't respond directly, the man was probably thinking about something. "Your mother?" Until that one question suddenly came like an electric shock, and Moreau couldn't deny that she nodded immediately. Still about Barbara, about something that could never be controlled. "I'm afraid my mother is angry," she said, almost unconsciously dropping her attention to the sketch of a thorny rose with budding petals. Beautiful. Let alone if they add red. How Moreau imagined it would be on one of her body parts. "She won't know anything." Abihirt's statement sounded like a soft whisper. The man was trying to persuade her to get a tattoo, was he?Moreau tried to understand something that didn't feel right here. Abihirt had a purpose as to why they were still faced with various uncertain decisions. At least there were provisions where she detected a desire that seemed to be trying to cross a forbiddin
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Having been asked to wait here for some time did not make Moreau flare up with fixation. Indeed, there was no clue as to where Abihirt had gone after they set foot in the palatial mansion and away from Barbara's knowledge; the man had simply escorted her to remain silent in one room so empty. Equipped only with a few familiar tools after they left the tattoo studio. Moreau should underline that she did nothing there. At the very least, getting a tattoo on one of the body parts. They left immediately after Abihirt's business was done. Yeah, when the man's business was done, while not tucked away the information in this place started to show something specific. Moreau did not understand how her stepfather had various tattooing tools complete with disposable materials, and the man still took her to a place just to introduce some things, where Moreau could guess the devices called machines or just needles and ink. At least she was still waiting until Abihirt returned
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"I'm scared. You didn't even tell me which part of my body you would choose when tattooing." Moreau almost shook her head faintly, when she then gasped at the light touch that brushed aside the strands of hair in front of her chest. "Under your breast. It won't hurt." The man whispered. An act of persuasion, but it seemed to push Moreau into a huge dilemma. Not knowing how to make a decision. Abihirt's request was like an unreasonable seduction. Her stepfather was going to tattoo her under the chest, probably close to the ribs, while she had to deal with the crisis of a clamped nipple. "I'm still scared, Abi." Moreau shook her head vaguely. Trying to avoid eye contact regarding the various stipulations she had to face. All the warnings in her mind were still forbidding. Still wishing she was sane enough to go one step too far towards sex games based on Abihirt's wishes. "You need to try it. At least once." Not knowing why Moreau seemed trapp
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The tattoo would be done. Following how serious Abihirt was when he was working on something. It was times like these that made Moreau take advantage of the situation to observe Abihirt's face for too long. A little sure the man understood the impact where she started to breathe heavily, whether it was from feeling the touch on the sides of her breasts, perhaps the nipple clamps that were still tightening there, or even... when it was all realized by a half naked body that Moreau didn't have the best ability to adapt to. "Are you okay?" Abihirt's deep, hoarse voice sounded slow as he let his gray irises stare into her eyes. The man paused for a moment. Perhaps he was done. Moreau did not feel the needle prickling, but rather had to swallow harshly, at least to find the best words after the long silence between them. "Ya. Just a little horny." Not knowing why she suddenly wanted to tell the truth. Hoping it wasn't something wrong and how unexpectedly he
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"Do you like it?” The man asked-now with such a flat face. Moreau nodded vaguely. She still wanted to look at the artwork of Abihirt's sleight of hand. However, the fact she was still holding something in common at the beginning. "You haven't answered me yet. Why do you rarely smile?" She looked up. Moreau had to wait a while for Abihirt to show a demeanor full of boundaries. "Is your smile too expensive? How much is it worth?" She didn't care. She continued, even though it might be the worst prospect when suddenly Abihirt's body bent down and their lips were so close. "You keep asking. Want me to tattoo your mouth too?" Was that a warning? Moreau didn't fucking know. She was not trying to be influenced. Just wanted to find an answer as long as the silence rumbled around. Perhaps it was because she started too late. There was no preparation to welcome the lips that seemed to want to snatch. Wild. Completely free. In fact, her body w
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Abihirt's cock felt solid and hard. The man was still moving. Giving such a powerful impact. Moreau bit her lower lip in the face of such full force. She could also feel her breasts being thrown in various directions following the movement of their bodies. Abihirt's palm suddenly squeezed them. Adjusting their bodies to slightly touch Moreau's shoulders were resting directly on the man's firm chest. She let out a stifled moan. Abihirt's mouth immediately fell on her shoulder. Giving a bite that felt searing. Moreau could not help herself. She moaned for a moment. Writhing with various delicious sensations. Against common sense, she would completely lose. As if burned out by burning desire and feeling her body about to tremble when one of Abihirt's arms slid down, then the man's fingertips began to play with the line of moist flesh—constantly rubbing against the massive dick. "Abi." Moreau wanted to hiss. Wanted to explode all over. A crazy love-making sensat
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"Why do you have to think about your mother?" The deep, hoarse voice asked. Moreau did not understand why she had to be trapped in such an undesirable situation. It was really painful trying to take back something—it had already been said, and she was helpless to simply end the situation between them. "Because she's my mother." That was it. Hoping there was a prospect of avoiding everything that happened, then ending well. Instead, Abihirt's hand suddenly moved. Deliberately brushing the tip of his forefinger across Moreau's cheekbone-slowly brushing away the scattered hairs. "She went to see Sam. Are you happy to hear that?" Again. Abihirt asked for confirmation. To let her know that Barbara was committing the same dirty betrayal. All of them realized it immediately. "Does this mean you're venting your jealousy on me?" Moreau asked almost wistfully. She stared wide-eyed, but it took a while for Abihirt to say anything. "Not really." In
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"One more shot." Moreau had been dealing with bad press all day. Her ex-boyfriend had unilaterally made the choice to end their relationship. She had been asking for a definitive reason since that sad moment, but Froy and the man's angry gaze were clearly refusing to talk. What an irony. Tomorrow was her mother's wedding day, and Moreau had no idea what the groom looked like. They were not introduced. Her mother was planning a silent necessity. There was even so much other pressure to leave serious blotches that it felt like they were punching holes in Moreau's heart. She was almost desperate to figure things out. Moments ago, she decided to go to a bar with the intention of calming down. The striking red dress was perfect on Moreau's slim body. Apparently, in front of the bar counter, Moreau was sitting alone. Staring at a few empty glasses—the wine was gone. Thus, her throat was like ashes with the remains of a fire. It was completely barren. Moreau never thought that she would ge
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