by Dawn, Nyrae
Unfortunately, Maddox does what I made him think I want, and stands up. He pushes his pants down, his shirt right after, making me change that to fortunately.
He is so, so sexy—all tanned skin and defined muscles. Suddenly I really wonder what he would look like with that piercing we were talking about.
Before my imagination can run too wildly, he’s grabbing a condom from his wallet and sliding it down his length. It’s not nearly enough time to admire, but then he’s leaning over me, pushing inside, and my nails are digging into his back and the feeling is so much better than admiring.
“Oh God,” I say again, wondering why that seems to be my phrase of choice when I’m with him.
“You don’t have to keep calling me that.”
His joke springs out of nowhere and I can’t stop myself from laughing. “This is no time for jokes.” I fight to take control and then we’re both quiet as we move together.
The heat is back, blazing into an inferno and I know I’m going to take that leap over the edge at any second.
Maddox’s movements come quicker and his breathing more hurried and when I can’t hold it back any longer, I’m spiraling into oblivion with Maddox right behind me.
His body collapses on top of mine. I can tell he’s not resting his full weight on me. Still his weight and this slick, hard body feels . . . almost comforting? I don’t know, but it freaks me out and makes me try to wiggle out from under him.
“Don’t worry,” Maddox mumbles. “I’m not trying to cuddle. I just can’t move yet.”
Well, that’s putting things into perspective.
Then he shifts, taking care of the condom before tossing it into the can by the couch. “I’ll take the trash out in a minute.”
He relaxes on me again. I almost put my hand on his head, but stop at the last second. It feels too strange, though now I’m not sure what to do with it, so I have one arm on the back of the couch and the other hanging over the edge.
We lie there for a few minutes, no sound in the room except for the mixing of our breaths. Most of the time I feel suffocated when people are too close like this, but as I lie here waiting for that sensation, it doesn’t come. He’s just here and I’m just here, nothing threatening to take me over and freak me out. He gets what I feel, so he doesn’t want to change me and for a few seconds, I want to live in that.
Without warning, Maddox pushes off the couch and stands up. He doesn’t hide his body, not that he would have a reason to, but it’s almost as if it’s normal to walk around naked in front of me. Or not me, I guess, but any woman? A heaviness settles into my gut.
Bending over, he grabs my shirt and tosses it to me before picking up his boxer-briefs. “I’m going to the bathroom to clean up.”
“What happened to ladies first?”
“Really? I would have thought you’d give me shit if I tried to pull that one.”
Eh, I guess he’s right. I can’t have it both ways and want him to act like a gentleman only when it fits me. “You’re right.” Then, on instinct, I reach out and flick his nipple. “So you going to let me do it?” I ask.
“Nope. Not changing my mind either.” Maddox picks up the rest of my clothes and hands them to me. “You got your clothes first. Guess that means you get the bathroom first too.”
He hardly looks at me as he speaks. It isn’t like the tone of his voice changed or he got all flirty when he said the words either, but my heart does this sort of stutter. It’s a little piece of niceness that I didn’t expect from him. Something small and simple. Those are the best kinds of nice things, aren’t they?
Rex and Melody used to say the small things matter more than the big. I didn’t get it when I was younger. I definitely do now.
And it makes me take a step backward. Then another one.
“Hey,” he says right before I step into the restroom. “Is Bee your real name?”
That question somehow reminds me of who I am. Of more of my earlier call.
“Your sister’s boyfriend proposed. I wasn’t surprised when she told me. He’s such a sweet boy. They’ll finish school first, of course. They both know it’s the most important thing.”
What she didn’t say is that’s what Malones do. They’re responsible and proper. They don’t change their names and then fuck some guy because they’re upset about not being who they were born to be. Not that Mom would have ever said that. She’s too kind and loving for that. “No.”
“What is it?”
“If I wanted people to know, I wouldn’t go by Bee.”
He gets this strange look on his face that I can only explain as disconnected. That he’s unplugging or hitting the power button, a look I only recognize because I do it as well. Now I also feel like a bitch. I’m taking my internal shit out on him, which almost feels like opening up. Like being honest. “I’ll tell you when you let me pierce your nipple,” slips out of my mouth, without my planning on it, but it’s perfect.
Maddox doesn’t smile or step closer to me, though now that I think about it, he doesn’t smile often at all. But he suddenly doesn’t seem so far away either.
“You play dirty, Bee.”
“You better believe it, Scratch.”
It’s Maddox’s turn in the bathroom when I hear knocking coming from the front of Masquerade. The second I hear it, I remember I had an appointment set up for today. Holy shit. I totally would have forgotten. Not a real cool way to start my business, but when I let myself get upset, that’s what happens. I sort of shut down, like I did after my phone call with Mom.
Jogging down the hall, I turn into the main area of Masquerade before twisting the lock and opening the door. “Sorry. Something came up,” I tell the guy standing outside the door. I met him the other day when he came in to look at my portfolio. He’s about my age, reddish hair, and already has a little ink on him.
“No problem,” he tells me. About then Maddox comes down the hall, his hair all messed up and looking like he just did exactly what we were doing.
“What’s up?” Maddox nods at him.
“What was your name again?” I ask.
“Dustin.”
“Maddox, Dustin. Dustin this is Maddox. He’s working with me, so he’ll be sitting in.”
Dustin nods as I head to my desk. “I’ll show you what I drew up for you.”
He wants a tree. All black, but he wants it to look old and sort of creepy. It’s going on his bicep.
Both Maddox and Dustin follow me over. I open one of the drawers and pull out the sketch.
“Nice,” Dustin says as he looks at the detailed drawing. The branches have an aged look that I can’t really explain, each of them bent and twisted into different directions. When I look at it, I think it has a story to tell and I’m suddenly upset that the piece is for someone else. It’s experienced and worldly, which probably doesn’t make sense to most people.
“Thanks,” I reply as Maddox says, “Who is it?”
His words make me snap my head toward him, my heart beating faster all of a sudden.
“What do you mean, who is it?”
“There’s a face in the trunk.” He points.
“Oh shit. That’s bad-ass. I didn’t even notice that.” This from Dustin.
Maddox is right. There is, but I say, “It’s not anyone specific. It’s a tree. He wanted it to look scary, and unique. This is how it came out.” And honestly, I didn’t think anyone would notice it.
He gazes down at me as though he doesn’t believe me. I turn away, unable to continue looking at him.
“You did awesome. It’s perfect,” Dustin says, excitement bouncing around in his voice.
“It’s not right . . .” I shake my head, looking down at it. “It’s missing something.”
Maddox leans over me and points to the paper. “Look at the branches right here. You’ve got part of something right there and you don’t know it. Are you seeing what I am?”
For a minute, I study it, trying to see what Maddox does. I squint, t
rying to make it out.
And that’s when I see it. All the branches together, with all the little parts sticking off, lying a certain way and somehow resembling feathers. “It’s almost a bird.”
“A crow. The black would blend right in. See this part?” Maddox points again. “Curve it a little. Make the head come around this way. Not everyone will see it, but that makes it more incredible.” He shrugs and steps back. “Only a thought. Not sure if it fits what you’re looking for but—”
“It’s perfect.” I’m seeing it in my head, on the paper, and wondering how I could have missed it before.
“What do you think?” I lean back while Dustin looks it over.
“It’s fucking awesome. I’m down.”
“Cool. Let me fix the sketch real quick.” I tell Dustin to have a seat. Maddox washes his hands before he starts getting the equipment ready for me while I lean over the paper to add Maddox’s bird, wondering how he saw it. Wishing I had. And thinking this tat would have been shit without it.
Chapter Eight
~Maddox~
I talked to Laney once and she mentioned how Adrian is always paying attention. Not that she wants to hide anything from him, but that it’s almost impossible to because he notices things. It wasn’t like I really wanted to sit and have a heart-to-heart with her about her boyfriend, but I’d listened to her, partly because he makes me curious.
I know who I am. It might not be pretty, but I’m honest about it. I’m shut down now, and honestly, I can’t imagine how he does it. I gave him shit and called him a pussy for walking out on Laney and I do believe that, but I also know he’s a better man than I am. I couldn’t be with someone if her family took from me what ours took from him.
Laney said he grew up with an abusive dad. That he kind of lived inside himself, making him see the world and other people differently. I don’t fully get it, but I guess it kind of explains how he notices more than other people do. Why he looks a little deeper.
That’s never been me, except when I had sex with Bee today I suddenly saw a part of her that is buried a little deeper.
I watched her eyes as she began to close off when we were having sex. How there was this sort of veil that separates her from other people. I’ve been with women I knew a whole lot less than I know her, yet there was still some kind of emotion, feelings. Something there that Bee doesn’t have. Or that she keeps locked away.
She lost it afterward when she gave me shit about my piercing, but then when I asked her about her name, it was right back. Not that I’m not pissed at myself for bringing it up anyway.
“You see how I’m doing the shading right here?” Her question wakes me up from wherever I was. “Shading is an art in itself. Not everyone can do it well, but if you can, it’s going to make your piece stand out.”
I watch her hand guide the gun along his skin. The brushed blackness of her shading showing me the branches blowing in the wind. His skin is red, little beads of blood pushing to the surface and mixing with the ink and Vaseline. Bee wipes it away.
Fuck she’s good.
“Is the pressure the same when you have the shader on?” I ask her.
Her eyes don’t leave her work as she speaks. “Less pressure for shading and the amp is almost always turned down.”
I nod and keep watching her work, the look of concentration on her face. When I was at the old shop, it wasn’t like this. He basically admitted that it was a way to make money for him. It’s not like that with Bee. You can see how important it is to her, making me feel like a piece of shit because even though I want this, I don’t know if anything other than my sister has ever mattered to me as much as tattooing obviously matters to her.
It takes about three hours for her to finish Dustin’s tat. The whole time I study everything she does and ask questions even though it’s not like me. It’s almost like needing someone and I won’t let myself need anyone, but then, I think maybe someday I could look at tattooing the way she does.
After she’s done, I wash my hands before cleaning his tat, wrapping it and giving him a sheet with the aftercare instructions. Dustin thanks her and then he’s gone, leaving just the two of us again.
She has her back to me, her nice, little ass perfectly shaped in the tight jeans she’s wearing. I wish like hell I could touch her again, because she’s gorgeous and I want to study every bit of ink on her body.
Without turning to look at me, she says, “Good call on the bird.”
I shrug, turning away from her, too, because seeing that bird was nothing. “It wasn’t a big deal.” Was it?
“Yeah it was.” I can tell by the sound of her voice that she’s facing me, so I follow her lead. If she can brave looking at me, I need to man up and do the same.
“All I did was say what I saw.”
“Which makes it even more incredible. Not a lot of people would have seen it. I drew the fucking thing and I didn’t see it until you mentioned it. You have instinct and you’re not afraid to look for things that might not always be there. A good eye is a good quality to have. I don’t give compliments often, so when I do, you know it’s real.”
For a second, I just stand there. My throat feeling all fucking tight for some reason. I don’t know what to say. I don’t need her to tell me she doesn’t give compliments often to know it’s true, but hearing what she said? It’s almost like this sort of respect in her voice that I’ve never heard from her before.
Even as I want to tell her thank you, my skin feels itchy too. Her words scratch across my skin like that needle on the gun, like they want to push below the surface the same way the ink does when she’s creating magic on someone’s body.
“It’s hard to take credit for something that I didn’t really have to work for.” There’s a good chance she’ll take that the wrong way and maybe some people would, but she nods.
“Fair enough.”
We clean the equipment and put everything away. I’m suddenly craving a cigarette even though they aren’t usually something I crave—they’re just something I compulsively do.
“I’m going outside for a smoke.”
I’m surprised when she follows me out. I lean against the building on one side of the door while she sits on the ground, the side of the building holding her up.
“It’s a good thing I slept with you before I knew you smoked—otherwise we both would have missed out on a good time.”
“Twice,” I tease her before taking a drag. Though I have to admit, it’s a relief she can joke about it.
“Don’t remind me.”
I don’t even consider getting offended because I feel the same way she does.
Surprise takes over me when I open my mouth and say, “Is it fucked up that we can sit around and joke about having sex with each other like this? I’ve never spent a lot of time with anyone I’ve been with.”
“Slut,” she teases. “Who knows if it’s fucked up or not? I don’t care. You don’t care. That’s why it works. We both want the same thing, so it’s not like we’re going to get all attached or get our feelings hurt because the other doesn’t call the next day, ya know? We both know what it is.”
“What is was.” The need to stress that comes out of nowhere. Even talking like this feels foreign to me. I don’t do shit like this.
“Exactly.” She moves slightly and something makes me walk over and hold my hand out. I feel like an idiot for a second, but then Bee grabs it and lets me help her up. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” After putting out my cigarette, we go inside.
“I feel like getting out tonight.”
The way she says it makes me think there’s more to it than that. Maybe not that she feels like it, but she needs to. What the hell is my problem? Why do I think I suddenly know this girl? It’s not like I’ve ever tried to figure anyone out before. I’m not sure why it keeps happening with Bee.
Because she’s like me . . .
“I’m down to go to Lunar.” It’s not like I’d be doing anythi
ng except sitting in my apartment anyway.
“Yeah?” She stalls for a second. “We could do that. Have a beer or something.”
“Typical thing for people to do after work.”
“And like we said before, we both know there’s nothing more than that going on.”
I leave it at that. It doesn’t matter if we end up going or not. I don’t want to get into some big fucking conversation on if, why, or when we’ll go have a drink. Instead, I do a quick sweep of Masquerade. When I don’t find anything I missed while cleaning up, I tell Bee, “I’m going to go. I have some shit to take care of. Let me know if you wanna go and I’ll meet you there.”
She nods. I make it to the door and pull it open before she speaks. “Maddox?”
“Yeah?” I don’t turn around to face her.
“Thanks.”
There’s more than one thing she could be thanking me for: the bird in the tattoo, cleaning up the shop, talking to her, or even some of the shit that went down in her office. But I wonder if it’s maybe a combination of all of them.
With a simple nod, I walk out, knowing both of us will do better without verbally acknowledging her gratitude.
Bee doesn’t call until 9:00 p.m. I change my shirt before heading toward Lunar. I’d already showered.
It doesn’t take me long to get there. I’m surprised to find Bee waiting outside for me. I figured she would have gone in.
She’s wearing this short black skirt and her shirt is another tank top, this one camo.
When I reach her, the stupidest fucking thing comes out of my mouth. “I don’t do anything more than T-shirts.” Anger then starts sizzling through me. Why the hell did I say that? It doesn’t matter what I wear and even if she did care, I don’t.
“Let me give you a hint, Maddox. When you look as good as you do, women don’t need you to wear anything more than a T-shirt. They’re hoping to get you out of it anyway.”
Her words throw water on the flames of my anger, but all they do is burn to life again, but this time blending with lust. I don’t say shit like “I don’t do anything more than T-shirts,” and knowing I did puts me on edge. Yet hearing her say she thinks I’m sexy too? It makes me want her again. “Let’s go inside.”