by S. Brent
Now here she was lying on my table while I drew on her with a ballpoint pen. She was stretched out on her side to giving me full access to the other. The one I planned to work on. Her skinny jeans were undone and pulled down so that I could reach her hip exposing her thong, silver lace. Damn. Her gray shirt was completely off along with her bra, which I noticed matched her panties when I saw it peeking out from her pile of clothes that were folded up sitting on the counter. She probably could have kept part of it on but I encouraged her to lose the entire thing. I was a guy after all. A guy who had seen what was underneath those clothes and was desperate to see it again. Did she always wear matching underwear? She had the other night too. God that was hot.
She was holding a towel over her breast. Breasts that I knew are perfectly plump with delicious pink nipples and a perfect handful for me. She looked good in her skin tight jeans, gray top, and matching heels but I think she looked ever better like this, topless, pants undone, my drawing down her side. I tucked a towel into her jeans to protect them from run off ink. She could have done it but I didn’t even offer the option to her. Where was the fun in that? I just did it for her. It gave me an excuse to touch her, for my fingertips to linger under the edge of her jeans.
It was going to be hard to stay focused especially since my excitement had centered below the waist.
I took Maggie’s drawing and free handed it on her side with pen and was about to start the outline. The table was lined. I have all my inks set up. The gun was ready. The plan was to go until one of us couldn’t go any longer.
“You ready?” I asked as I leaned in towards her side. I kicked on the gun and the soft humming filled the air. I had my gun in one hand and a paper towel in the other. She just nodded and bit her lower lip like I wanted to. Her eyes met mine and I could see the fear in them but the trust in them was baffling. She trusted me to permanently mark her body.
Most of the time people got that panicked look in their eyes right before I started in, especially newbies, some even backed out. I found it amusing but with her I wanted to comfort her, hold her, reassure her. My reaction to her fear shocked me but so did the complete and utter trust I saw in those deep brown eyes. She trusted me to decorate her perfect skin. It was humbling so I got to work praying she didn’t cry because I didn’t know how I was going to get through this if she bawled the whole time
She flinched when the needle first attacked her skin but then managed to relax. Thank God. She laid there like a champ.
“So,” I started in after we had been quiet for awhile while I worked with, thankfully, no tears in sight. “Why a tattoo?” I asked as I continued to work. People get work done for different reasons. I wanted her reason. I wanted another piece of her puzzle.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was soft as she watched me work the best she could. “I’ve always wanted one. Maggie knows that. So this is her birthday gift to me.”
I wiped away some of the blood that has escaped her body. “But why?” I pressed. People usually have a reason deeper then I wanted one.
She hesitated for a moment then looked up at me. Her eyes had become stern, determined. Gone was the blushing, soft-spoken girl. “Because I can. Because it’s my body and I can do what I want with it.”
Ahh, rebellion. I liked that idea.
“Who doesn’t approve?” I pushed. “Parents? A boyfriend?” Please say parents. Please say parents. I did not want to hear she had a boyfriend. I’m not sure if I’d be able to walk away from her if she did.
She let out a deep breath. “My parents,” she said so softly I almost didn’t hear her. Issues there?
“Well this is quite a statement,” I said still working. “But statement or not, it’s going to look incredible.”
“Thanks. Fan of your own work?” she teased turning our conversation lighter with a small smile.
“You have no idea,” I said smiling down at her bare side. I looked up at her and winked when I saw her big, brown eyes on me. At the moment I was a huge fan as I worked on the section on her breast.
I was making a point to let my fingers brush over her skin at every opportunity I found. I just wished I didn’t have these damn gloves on so I could really feel her skin on mine.
“So is there a boyfriend?” I asked. I dhadn’t meant to ask but it just came out. Way to be subtle.
“No boyfriend,” she said softly. This girl had the sweetest, little voice. I peeked up at her. She was blushing again, just slightly so her cheeks were the most delicate shade of pink behind her freckles against her fair skin. She was so pretty half naked while I tat her up, blushing. I wanted more of her.
“Bitch!” Maggie yelled. I had been just staring at Pru’s delicate face. I stopped working for a moment to truly take in her doe eyes, full lips, and freckles that I love, with her soft pink blush. I could get lost in just her face. I was until Maggie yelled. That girl had no volume control, or maybe she did and it was just stuck on loud.
She was in Jonas’ chair and we all looked over. He wasn’t working on her. She had just taken up residence there with her phone to her ear. He didn’t seem to mind. “We got Spunk, yes we do. We got Spunk, all over you,” she cheered throwing her arm up into the air completely unaware or uncaring of her audience.
Spunk was a local band that my half-brother happened to be the drummer of, although he didn’t know he was my brother. Our father acknowledged him. He was the oldest of our father’s legitimate children.
“Pru, what are you doing tonight?” she hollered from across the shop. Her voice seems to bounce off the walls. God, that girl was loud.
Pru was staring at her. We all are. Maggie was interesting to say the least. I have no idea how these two are friends. Maggie was loud and over the top, while Pru was quiet, more subtle.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Nothing?”
Ohhh, I planned to change that. I just hadn’t gotten that far yet. Clearly this girl spooked easily. I was going to have to ease her into spending more time with me. I already knew that much.
“Yes you are,” Maggie said. No, I wanted her evening, not Maggie. I had no idea how to redirect this. “Spunk concert tonight at The Hole,” she pointed at Pru. “No arguments, no homework,” she ordered.
“Fine,” Pru said reluctantly and I went back to work. Pru closed her eyes. What did that mean? Did she not like Spunk? Did she not like going out? Was it The Hole? I wanted to know which part of it she was not a fan of so I could use it to my advantage.
“Guys?” Maggie
addressed everyone else, “Spunk concert?” Of course, I instantly agreed, several of us did. Unknowingly Maggie had just made my life easier for me. I wanted to spend more time with Pru. I was trying to find a way of getting to that without scaring her off again and now I had a way to do that even if it was a Spunk concert.
Chapter 5
Prudence
The Hole was a bar that frequently had live music. Spunk, was a local band they frequently book. A local favorite. They were good, really good. Surprising they hadn’t made it big yet but I figured it was only a matter of time.
We knew the members of Spunk pretty well.
Oz, their lead singer is a geeky looking guy with a husky voice. He looked like your average, clean-cut guy but when he gets up on stage he instantly turned into a badass rock star with a panty dropping voice.
Stinky played the guitar. An average size, thin, black guy with long dread locks.
Kirk also played the guitar. He was a sweet, chubby guy who married his high school sweetheart and had two kids.
Miguel was a tall, goofy looking guy with no lips and long blond hair. He had an on again, off again thing with Maggie, currently off but that could change any moment. Miguel played the bass.
The last member of the band was Talon. He was the drummer. He had shaggy, dark brown hair that curls at the ends and big, brown eyes. He usually sported some unshaven scruff. He was Skyla’s half-brother.
After we left Dirty Ink, Maggie and I
headed home to change and pick up Skyla before heading to The Hole. I was tired and my side hurt but I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to see Lincoln again.
The entire ride Maggie questioned me about Lincoln. What did we talk about? Did he flirt with me? Did I flirt back? Did I think he was interested in me? Was I interested in him? And it went on and on.
He was hot and I want to see him again, get to know him better, and yes, I would definitely be up for more amazing sex. I couldn’t wait to see him again.
It was nearly eleven and he still hadn’t shown, or at least I hadn’t seen him. Maggie, Skyla, and I were standing by the side of the stage talking with the Spunk members. It was very possible that Maggie and Miguel were on again. She was hanging on him and smiling up at him.
“Wow, Pru, you always manage to impress me. You look like a little rockin’ doll,” Talon said. I couldn’t help but blush at his ridiculous compliment. Due to my fair skin and short stature I’ve been called a doll most of my life. He twirled his drumstick between his fingers as he sat on the steps that lead up to the stage to watch me. He looked thoughtful. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear jeans. Do you own any?” He was smiling over at me.
“I do actually. I’m just a fan of skirts and dresses,” I explained. When we ran home I traded my jeans and top for a slinky, black dress that hung low in the front and managed to curve with my body but not cling to my skin. My side was killing me. I traded my heels for giant, gray boots that reached all the way up to my thighs. I left my hair down and darkened my make-up.
“Hey,” he threw his hands up like I might attack him even though my words were more snotty than snappy. “I’m not complaining. I’m enjoying the view. I was just curious.” He reached his hand out with his drumstick in it and ran it over the inside of my boot-covered knee. Talon and I were just friends and have been harmlessly flirting with each other for years.
“Maybe next time I’ll wear jeans,” I teased, probably not. Nothing was going to happen between Talon and me.
“Don’t.” He stood up and leaned into me using the railing to hold himself up as he leaned forward. “I like this look. I really like these boots. Like I said. Little. Rockin’. Doll,” he said slowly. His lips were so close to my ear I could feel his breath on my ear lobe but it didn’t send a chill through my body like when Lincoln’s warm breath was caressing my ear.
I pushed him back and rolled my eyes. He just laughed. “Nice ring,” he said as he looked down at my hand on his chest. I was wearing a giant, silver, rose ring. It looked way too large for my little hand. It was ridiculous, but I loved it. I bought it at some thrift store for a dollar with Maggie.
Some older guy popped up on stage and announced Spunk. Talon winked at me, causing me to roll my eyes again in response as he headed onto the stage.
“You hooking up with Talon?” Maggie asked me as she turned to face me with her hands on her hips when Miguel headed up the stairs. He attempted to kiss her and she just pushed him away. Maybe they’re still off. “What happened to hot, tattoo guy?” she asked. Skyla just shook head and grabbed both of our hands to pull us into the crowd as Spunk started playing.
“So?” Maggie asked loudly when we reached the middle of the floor. She was waiting for an explanation. Jeez, she was persistent.
“Talon is just a friend,” I explained. “I’m definitely into Lincoln but…” I let my words trail off as I shrugged. He wasn’t here. That didn’t mean I was planning on going home with someone else but he wasn’t here. That said something.
Maybe he wasn’t as interested as I thought. I clearly misread something.
Skyla, Maggie, and I danced with guy after guy. We gave them a few minutes then pushed them away. Most guys got to physical when dancing in this close of space and I was dumb enough to wear a little dress, which they assumed means easy access.
Spunk was probably half way through their first set when another guy leeched onto my backside. He instantly thrust against my rear. Eager much? His hands landed on my hips, one more carefully than the other. I could already feel his erection pressing against my ass. This guy got touchy fast. When I looked down at the hands on my swaying hips, preparing to pull them off me, I saw a green clover peaking up at me. Lincoln. He was here. He was dancing with me. I let him stay. He was the only guy in here I actually wanted touching me.
I always liked dancing. It was fun and freeing. When I danced I could just relax, let myself go. Although I have never been a big fan of grinding against ones partner. It just seemed too intimate for people who just met or didn’t even know each other but I was thoroughly enjoying it with Lincoln. I knew him, kind of.
He seemed to be enjoying it just as much as I was. Had he been watching me dance? Had he sought me out or had he just been out here and came across me?
I turned my head so I could see him over my shoulder and peeked up at him from under my lashes. I already knew what this look did to guys. I smiled just barely and bit the side of my lower lip. His hands spread open over my hips. One kneads into me as he pulled me tighter against him. The other hovers over my freshly tattooed skin. He was being careful of my battered skin. He leaned his head down to the crock of my neck and growled causing me to giggle before he placed a soft kiss to the side of my neck and nipped at the exposed skin.
I continued to rock and sway with the beat and he joined me. I pressed my back against him and he pressed back. I didn’t think I have ever enjoyed dancing this much. Foreplay at it’s finest.
I turned in his arms so that my chest was pressed against him. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer to him, sliding his knee between mine so I could grind against it. His hands slid down to the hem of my dress, that wasn’t very long to begin with, and his fingers started to trail under the edge pushing it up slightly. I threw my head back, completely forgetting that we were on a dance floor, in a bar, surrounded by people. It was dark. The floor was crowded. It was easy to get lost in in the music, in the moment, in him.
He pulled me tighter against him. I ran my hands up his chest and tangled one in the back of his hair. His eyes were closed as he groaned. His hands continued their exploration and reached around back and splayed over my ass, under my dress, before he squeezed and rocked me into him. I could feel just how much he wanted me.
When his eyes meet mine he smiled, his little cocky smirk. Without a word he bent down and pressed his lips to mine. I immediately parted my lips and he took the invitation.
The music suddenly cut off and I pulled away from Lincoln’s lips. He scowled in protest. Oz, the lead singer of Spunk, was informing the crowd that they were going to take a short break and be back.
“I need a drink,” Lincoln said as he stepped away from me, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the bar. So did I. That was intense. A few more seconds and I was positive that we would have been attempting to strip off clothing.
Lincoln got a beer and I got a cosmo although I planned to stay fairly sober tonight. It was my first drink of the night. Then he led me over to a high, secluded table in the back corner that wasn’t vacant but had one free seat. The bar was packed. He took the stool tucked away in the back corner and pulled me so I was standing between his legs.
I hadn’t seen any of our friends.
“Hey,” I said shyly. I was just having fully clothed sex on the dance floor with him and now I’m uncomfortable and chagrin. What is wrong with me? I knew I was blushing ten different shades of pink because my cheeks are starting to burn as I recalled our intimate dancing only minutes ago.
“Hey,” he said as he took a swig of his beer smiling down at me. He always seemed to enjoy my distress. At the bar on my birthday. At the shop with the lovely jokes. Now.
“Nice dress,” he said as he blatantly checked me out, scooting me back just slightly so he could look down between us to fully take me in.
“Thanks.” I blushed even more.
“And I have to say, I love your boots.” His eyes lingered on my boots then scan
ned appreciatively back up.
“So do I,” I shared. I really do. They were favorites of mine.
“How’s your side?” he asked as he wrapped one arm around my lower back, careful not to touch the part he drilled on earlier.
“I’ll live.” I didn’t want to complain about how uncomfortable it was. It was like a really irritating sunburn. I didn’t want him to think he couldn’t touch me because I was sore. I wanted him to touch me.
“Good to hear but will you be back for more?” he asked raising an eyebrow at me playfully. Did that have a double meaning?
I just shrugged. If he was going for a double meaning I didn’t want to seem too desperate.
He suddenly looked concerned all teasing drops from his face. It made his face seem sharper, more angular, scary almost. “Please tell me you plan to let me finish that,” he pleaded.
“Oh,” I said. “Of course.” Apparently, he hadn’t meant the double meaning I interpreted it as.
“Good, because I’m dying to get you half naked on my table again,” he whispered hoarsely against my ear causing a shiver to run down my spine. I set my drink down on the table next to us and lean into him with my hands splayed on his chest. I could feel his nipple rings through his t-shirt. I loved it.
“Is that the only place you want me naked?” I asked as I looked up at him through my eyelashes. Where had that come from? Who was this seductive temptress I was turning into?
He just smirked down at me. “Not in the least. I want you naked in my bed, in my car, on this stool, anywhere I can get you.” His eyes never left mine as he set his beer next to my drink on the table and reached up to put his free hand over one of mine on his chest. “I like you half naked as well. I’m really digging these boots. I’d love to see you in just them.”
Wow! This guy knows just what to say. I was so turned on that I was ready to explode.