Evanescent Ink (Copperline #4) by Sibylla Matilde Page A

have done it, that should have. If anything could have snapped me out of this post-orgasmic haze, the sheer mention of my caustic ex-bitch who fucked me over and wanted to rub it in should have done it.
    Instead, my dick still planted deep inside Raven’s wet warmth, I chuckled. I pulled her close and felt her body tighten as she melted into me, resting her head on my shoulder with a light, girly laugh of her own. A sound that took a moment to register in my mind.
    “Did you just giggle?” I asked after a minute of thought. Raven was always so cool and smooth. Not prone to so many little chickish mannerisms.
    “Fuck no,” she replied, but sorta did it again as she continued. “I don’t do girly shit like that.”
    I pressed my face into her neck, breathing in the erotic scent of her perfume. Nothing light and flowery, but rich and warm. Exotic. Enthralling.
    “Okay, just checking.”

     
    Somehow she empowered me. It didn’t make sense, but somehow she pulled me out of the melancholy with so much strength that I went back inside and did exactly what I needed to do.
    I played like Maggie didn’t mean a fucking thing to me.
    My fingers, still tingling from guiding Raven’s hips—from moving her in slow circles and then hard, frantic thrusts—flew over my guitar strings. I didn’t even see Maggie anymore. I’m not sure if she left or I was just that good at blocking her from my mind. Not a soul in the room could have guessed how close I’d been to breaking, except for the violet gaze from over at the bar. The girl in a short skirt and thigh-high socks…
    …with dirty knees.
     

 
     

    So it went from there. Casual. No ties. No strings or commitments. Just a warm, wet pussy to sink into every time things got to be too much. Something to take me out of my head, to make me feel a little less rejected.
    That’s what I kept telling myself. The nagging hole left by Maggie wasn’t going to disappear, but with Raven it seemed to sting less. Once I got inside her, Maggie was the furthest thing from my mind.
    If only her magic worked all the time. If only I could always feel the way I felt when I was inside her. When she was gasping my name and gripping me to her in ecstasy.
    Obviously, though, I couldn’t. As much as I would have liked, I couldn’t just fuck Raven twenty-four/seven. She had a life outside of Ink. A life I didn’t know a whole lot about, but it took her away now and then. I knew she wasn’t from Montana, but I thought she might have some family here. A distant relative. Someone who’d made her land here. You don’t really end up in Ophir by accident.
    And I had my other life away from Ink, too. My band. We’d gotten together in college with dreams that someday we’d get our fame and fortune. We’d be a bar band that ended up playing stadium rock. It was something I’d aspired to since I picked up my dad’s guitar as a kid. Since I dressed up like Gene Simmons in full KISS regalia for Halloween in first grade. Since I watched every Van Halen video ever to figure out how Eddie did the things he did. Since I first saw the Sinners on tour and dreamed of sharing a stage with them someday. Somehow.
    A few years later, though, we were still a bar band. We’d hit celebrity status with some locals, but were nothing like the platinum rockers my juvenile mind had imagined. Being ordinary had begun to feel extraordinary, though. It had brought me Maggie and all the wild sexcapades with her. The stream of girls she brought into bed with us. It felt all rockstar and shit. I’d really thought my life was pretty fuckin’ good.
    Now, I just didn’t know what the fuck my life was. There was a weird fog, an unreality of each day that made things feel up in the air.
    As for Raven, I didn’t see her often outside of work. She ran in different circles, but it was like she had a sixth sense for my psyche. An awareness of my mood. Whenever the world seemed to darken around me, she would appear to pull me