Tattoos and Angels

by Casey McMillin

  "I don't remember." I said.

  "Does he kiss you first?"

  "I don't remember," I said. Right then, I really didn't want to remember. He leaned over me and put his lips on mine with such gentleness that I felt compelled to say, "I like the way you kiss me."

  "Do you like it when I do this?" He kissed me again, only this time, instead of just letting his lips touch mine, he let his tongue dip into my mouth.

  It was quite simply the most pleasure I'd ever felt in my life.

  Did he just ask if I liked it?

  "Yes," I said, breathlessly when he broke the kiss.

  Chapter 9

  We stayed in his bed, snuggling and kissing for quite some time before he pulled away and stared down at me. The room was dimly lit, but I could clearly see him, and I let my gaze roam over his face. I followed the curve of his lips down to his chin before letting my eyes meet his.

  "I'm going to put my hand inside your panties," he said, totally catching me off guard, "as part of the examination, of course."

  "Oh really?"

  "Yeah, I thought you might want me to do a little research about your concerns. I'm relatively sure you're not the one to blame for your problem."

  "And how would you know something like that?"

  He regarded me with an unreadable expression. "Because you're perfect." He said it with complete seriousness, but it still caused me to smile. I'd consider myself a lot of things—including some good things, like creative, or quirky, or even cute, but perfect would not be on the list.

  "I think I just don't really like sex," I said, in my alcohol induced state of being too honest.

  I didn't mention that I hadn't had actual sex. Even though I was buzzed, I knew it wasn't the time to share something like that. Our legs were under the covers. I was on my back and he was stretched out next to me propped up on one arm. He put one of his legs on mine. It was heavy, and the contact made me feel a rush of excitement. I didn't do it consciously, but I wiggled a little bit underneath him. I wanted to feel more of his weight, wanted him closer.

  He shifted where more of his leg was resting on me and I cuddled up next to him.

  "I'm going to put my hand down here, okay?"

  I didn't respond, didn't have to, because he was already doing it as he made the statement. I drew in an uneven breath, and he said, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

  I shrugged and smiled at him. "It's just research, right?"

  He smiled down at me as he gently ran his hand down my stomach and slipped it under my panties. I remembered how Connor just shoved his finger inside me, and felt scared for a second that Angel might do the same thing, but it seemed he had an entirely different approach. His hand was extremely unintrusive. He rested it on my outside for a second before using a fingertip to make a gentle swipe along each side of my opening.

  It felt so good that I couldn’t bear to look at him. I stared at his neck and shoulder, which seemed beautiful and flawless. He bent and put his mouth right next to my ear at the same time that he used a finger to go barely past the surface of my opening.

  "I can already feel that you don't have a problem, Charlotte," he said in my ear. He was so gentle and I was so turned on that I felt like I might come apart.

  "I'm nervous," I said.

  He pulled his hand out from under my panties. "Don't be nervous. I'm not going to sleep with you tonight. I was just checking you out to make sure nothing's wrong with you, and I can tell you already that there's not."

  "You can't tell that by what you did," I said. "The whole problem is that I don't like it."

  "Oh, I thought you were scared that you weren't getting turned on—because that's obviously untrue. If you're worried about your capability to feel pleasure, I can help you with that too. You know, just to prove nothing's wrong with you."

  Oh my gosh, I really wanted to take him up on that offer. I shut my eyes tight, considering whether or not I should let him try. His hand slipped under my panties again, and I was helpless to make him stop.

  "I know you don't want to move fast," he said. "I'm just going to stay on the outside."

  I nodded my consent and he started stroking the edge of my opening. He let his finger dip a little deeper into my slickness, but quickly took it out, continuing to move his fingers along the outer edge.

  "Did you go inside just now?" I asked. I knew he hadn't officially gone inside me, but the asking of that question and waiting for his response turned me on.

  "No," he said. "I'm just on the outside like I told you. When something goes inside you, it feels like this…"

  I felt his finger enter me, only instead of hurting, it sent a wave of ecstasy crashing over me. It didn't hurt at all. In fact, I wanted more.

  Just as fast as it was in there, it was gone. I felt oddly disappointed. Angel mumbled something in Spanish as he looked me over.

  "You didn't stay on the outside like you said."

  "No I didn't."

  "What are we gonna do now?"

  "You're gonna be quiet while I show you pleasure, and then you'll know there's nothing wrong with you." He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to deny him the right to do as he planned, but I just stared at him. "I'll go slow," he added.

  He started by running his fingers up and down my opening just as he'd been doing before, but quickly went deeper, adding a little pressure to his gentle strokes. He put his mouth down on top of mine at the same time that he put a finger inside me, and I moaned and thrust into him. He broke the kiss and spoke in Spanish right next to my mouth. I moaned again as he spoke, feeling utter pleasure at the sound of his voice and the unknown words that I imagined were passionate.

  He spoke to me in Spanish, continuing to fill me with his finger as he put pressure on my opening with the base of his hand. He entered me again and again, until my body fell into an orgasm that shattered my systems. In a desperate attempt to prolong the amazing waves of pleasure, I clutched my legs together and used my hand to hold his in place. I pushed him deeper, wanting that feeling to never end.

  "Ohhhhh Angellllll. Oh my God, I've never felt anything like this," I whispered breathlessly as I held him inside me. It took several pleasurable seconds for the feeling to subside before I came back to reality. When I did, I realized I was still pulling on his hand, holding it inside me.

  I let go as soon as I noticed what I was doing. I glanced up at him and he smiled down at me as he ever so gently pulled his hand out of my panties. I didn't know what was supposed to come next. In the past, I'd gotten away with helping guys finish by other means, but I was pretty sure Angel was the type of guy who expected actual sex with a girl—especially after what he'd just done for me. I thought about telling him I was a virgin before we did it, but decided against it.

  In those few, silent seconds, I thought a lot about backing out, but truth was, I wanted Angel to be my first. I knew that was ludicrous since I had every intention of staying with Connor. I felt a surge of fear and dread hit me at the thought of Connor, and Angel, who wasn't even paying attention to my shift in mood, positioned himself next to me.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "Nothing."

  We were both lying on our backs now with the covers at our waist, and I turned and sat up to face him. He smiled at me as if he had no idea what I was talking about.

  "Aren't you gonna have sex with me?"

  "No."

  I should have been relieved but couldn't help but be a little offended. "Why not?"

  "Because you're drunk, and I'd never take advantage of you like that. Plus, we just did that to prove that you're good at sex. Now we've scientifically proven you are."

  I wanted to focus on the glorious fact that this sex god just said I was good at sex even though I had no experience whatsoever, but I couldn't because I had to defend myself.

  "I am not drunk," I said.

  "You're definitely, how do you say, under the influence."

  "
That's how you say it, but I'm not. I totally know what I'm doing."

  He gave me a smile that was so patient and sweet that it almost made me feel inferior. He was perfect, and here he was trying not to have sex with me for fear that I might regret it.

  "I don’t think I'd regret it," I said. "I'm imagining my sober self, and I just don't think she'd be mad at me for doing this."

  He pulled me onto his chest, forcing me to lay on him. "Just get some rest," he said. "We'll talk to your future sober self and make sure, then we'll plan for next time if she gives us the go-ahead."

  We were quiet for a long minute while I contemplated everything. He was right. I felt satisfied and spent and should just get some rest.

  "Are you sure you're not mad at me for leaving you hanging?"

  "It's how I wanted it," he said. "I'd have regrets if I took advantage of you."

  "It wouldn't be taking advantage of someone if she wants you."

  "It would if she wanted me after six cups of punch."

  "What if she wanted you before that?"

  "Then she would have told me that."

  Right about then I couldn't remember how I acted or who I was before. All I knew was that I didn't feel like I wanted things to end. I knew what a terrible person that made me. My boyfriend was puking, and there I was, feeling the most pleasure I'd ever experienced in my life.

  I chose to drift off to sleep instead of overthinking my mistakes. I'd deal with them in the morning.

  I woke up to an empty bed, which was somewhat of a relief. It took me a second to realize where I was and piece together scenes from the night before. I smiled at the thought of Tom kissing Blake in front of everybody, and then my stomach did a flip when I imagined the scene that had taken place afterward in this bed. Angel gave me the kind of pleasure I'd only read about, and I closed my eyes, reliving it for a second.

  "Are you sleeping sitting up?" I heard him say. My eyes popped open to see Angel standing in the threshold of his bathroom. He was dressed like he was headed out the door, which was what I'd already assumed he'd done.

  I blushed at being caught grinning with my eyes closed at the thought of what he had done to me. "I thought you were already gone," I said, scowling.

  His wide mouth curved upward in a slow smile as he walked toward me. "I live here," he said.

  "I know. I meant I thought you already left the room."

  "Would you like me to leave the room?"

  "Not necessarily."

  "Would you like me to kiss your mouth?"

  My eyes widened. I had no idea whether or not he was serious, but either way, he looked so fresh and clean and ready to greet the day, that I wasn't about to let him come anywhere near my dragon breath. Oh, yeah, and plus I had a boyfriend.

  "Not necessarily," I said, trying not to seem rude.

  "I'll go downstairs and let you do your thing up here."

  "I think I'm just gonna head out," I said.

  I knew his dad and brother were getting ready to leave for a trip, and I didn't want to be in the way. At the very least, I'd be a distraction, and I didn't want that either. I had no idea what I'd say to Tom now that I saw him kissing Blake. He probably wouldn't know what to say to me either. It was better for everyone if I just went home.

  "I figured you'd say that. That's why I waited for you to wake up. I didn't want you to sneak off."

  "Sneaking off might have been better."

  He was silent for a second, regarding me with a half-smile that was almost regretful. "I won't get in your way even though I think it's a bad choice."

  He came to the bed, leaned over, and placed a kiss on my head before crossing to the door. "I hope you don't have regrets," he said, opening the door, "I know I don't."

  I smiled at him as he walked out. Part of me wanted to call after him, but if I did, I'd be stuck with all sorts of hard decisions that I wanted to avoid for the moment. As for regrets—I was almost sure I should have them for my behavior last night. I sat there for a second and contemplated all the questionable things I'd done, only I had trouble feeling regret about them.

  I thought about the way Angel pleased me and expected nothing in return, and how that was the exact opposite of what Connor did. I was confused by that realization. I really thought Connor was the type of guy I wanted, but the thoughts and memories of Angel held different weight in my heart than those of Connor. This internal battle was the first thing that made me feel like I needed to reconsider my relationship with Connor.

  I got dressed in the same clothes I wore to the party, and put his T-shirt and boxers in a neat pile at the foot of his bed. As I stirred and was getting dressed, I made comparisons between Connor and Angel. I thought about the way Connor grabbed at me—the way he'd left bruises and hadn't cared at all whether or not I was pleased in the process. I compared that to Angel—the way I'd come completely unglued by his touch—the way he gently kissed me.

  I closed my eyes tight and shook my head to free him from my thoughts. "Connor Newman is your boyfriend," I said out loud. "He's gonna be a senator, you idiot."

  I grabbed my purse, and headed for the door.

  Chapter 10

  I had a tattoo scheduled the day after the party. It was good timing, because I was left feeling confused and frustrated by everything that happened and needed the distraction. My appointment was at 3PM, so I had plenty of time to lounge around the house after I left Angel's that morning.

  I didn’t know what to say to Blake, (who I hoped would not end up getting her heartbroken because of me) but I sent a text to her just to touch base and thank her for coming.

  Me: "Thanks for coming last night. Hope you had fun."

  I heard back from her within a minute.

  Blake: "I did! Thanks for letting me be a part of it. I loved meeting your people."

  Me: "They loved you too! Thanks again! I'll see you Monday at Magpie."

  Blake: "Okee dokee. Hope the tattoo goes well."

  I sent a smiley face back and put my phone in my pocket. Today's tattoo was the first large piece I was getting from my new guy, and I was extremely excited about it.

  It was something I'd found on Instagram by searching the hashtag #hammerheadtattoo. There were over two hundred tattoos with that hashtag, and one of the designs was a really beautiful but simple traditional drawing of a hammerhead shark that would be perfect for the back of my thigh. I was relatively certain I'd get some other type of fish on the other leg to make it somewhat symmetrical, but hadn't decided completely.

  Tim called me back to his station as soon as he saw me come in. He had two drawings for me to choose from, and both of them were better than anything I'd seen on Instagram. I smiled thinking how good his design was gonna look on my thigh.

  "This one," I said, pointing at the drawing on the right, the one where the tail had a bit more curve to it. We sized and positioned the stencil perfectly before beginning, and an hour later, I was lying on my stomach with him hunched over my leg.

  "We're about halfway there," he said, noticing me shifting when he picked up the machine. "How are you doing?"

  "I'm good."

  Our talking brought one of the piercers over from the counter. She had bright pink dreadlocks and at first glance, seemed to be about thirty or forty percent covered with tattoos. I liked the looks of her work, and was glad she was coming closer so I could take a better look.

  "Mind if I take a look?" she asked.

  "Not at all," I said. She came around to stare at the back of my leg, and while she was standing there, I took the time to inspect her work as well. She was wearing capris, but I checked out the tattoos on her lower leg. There was a hot-air balloon, a tea set and some flowers, and all of it was beautiful. I had no reservations whatsoever about having a lot of work done.

  "He's really beautiful," she said, talking about my shark.

  "I can't wait till I have as much work as you," I said.

  "Do you want to get a lot of work done?"

  "Defin
itely. I'd be in here every week for a standing appointment if I could afford it."

  She laughed as if she really and truly identified with that statement. "That's why I have a job here. I'm a total junkie."

  "Oh, if I worked here, I'd be in the chair all the time."

  "I try to as much as I can. I use all the guys so none of them get tired of me," she said, laughing. "Really, they each have strengths and I choose them based on the piece."

  "How many of you guys work here?"

  "There are four full-time tattooers, and a full-time piercer," she said. "I'm just part-time. I work two days a week to give the other piercer a break. It's my other job that pays for all this work. I'd never be able to have this much done otherwise."

  "What do you do?" She glanced at Tim and they shared a conspiratorial grin that had me thinking she was about to pull off a mask and say she was James Bond or something.

  "I'm a stripper."

  For whatever reason, that was almost equally as shocking.

  "Really?" I asked, trying to sound like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  "It's not exactly what you're thinking." She paused. "Well, maybe it is, but it's a super clean place—different from the places you're probably picturing."

  "She's trying to say it's for rich guys," Tim said. "Exclusive and shit. Those guys love girls with all that Sailor Jerry shit you're planning on getting," Tim said.

  "Seriously?" I asked. And just like that, the wheels were turning. "Do you have to take your clothes off?"

  "Well, it is a gentleman's club, so yes, I guess. But the costumes are vintage inspired, so they cover more than you'd imagine a strip club."

  "More like cabaret or something?"

  "There's quite a bit of skin showing, I won't lie, but it's not bad, and the money is amazing. It's rare that I leave there with less than five hundred."