by K. L. Donn
Tattooed & Alone for Christmas
A Possessed Series Novella Volume One
KL DONN
Contents
Blurb
Prologue
1. Eli
2. Eli
3. Jet
4. Jet
About the Author
Also by KL DONN
Copyright © 2017 by KL DONN
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or any part of this series may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names of characters, places, brands and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and owners of various products and locations referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
Warning: This book is intended for readers 18 years or older due to bad language, and explicit sex scenes.
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Blurb
Jet Ryhan is the girl next door. A dark haired, green eyed beauty.
Only she has one flaw…
Or so society says…
She is tattooed and pierced.
Familiar with the sting of unjustified stigma’s, rejection became her best friend, and betrayal kept her warm at night.
So why would she risk going home for Christmas only to be criticized and belittled again?
Why would she leave the comfortable warmth of her tattoo parlor?
Three reasons:
Loneliness is a cold hearted bitch.
Greer Latimore.
Eli Saxton.
Roommates, business partners, best friends.
They shared everything.
Greer Latimore and Eli Saxton were tired of being alone for the holidays.
They wanted to explore something new, someone new.
They found new possibilities in a spit fire tattoo shop owner, when they went looking for what they thought was a man; the best man in the business.
Turns out he was a she.
Too bad she ran away before they could tell her they wanted more.
They’d give her three reasons to come home though:
The love of two men who would worship her.
Enough happiness to last a lifetime.
Loyalty till their dying day.
To anyone who has ever felt like an outcast…
You are unqiue…
You are gorgeous…
You are the best you anyone can be!
Prologue
Greer
Another holiday and we’re still alone. We who? My best friend Eli Saxton and I. Inseparable since birth, roommates since college, and now business partners. We own the best landscaping company in three counties. Living in Alberta, a lot of people wonder how and why. The answer is simple… Moisture from the snow means luscious yards for the spring. There’s never any shortage of work between summer yard work and winter snow removal.
We are successful; however, some people have misconceptions about our success. They think we have it all: money, women, anything we could want.
The irony is, we don’t. We both feel like we’re missing one thing.
A woman to call our own.
A woman strong enough to want us both.
A woman confident enough in herself that she can handle the pressure and demands of two men and all that come with it. Like the criticism and ignorance of judgmental people that couldn’t possibly fathom the love we would both give her.
Yeah, I am ready to meet this woman anytime now.
Eli
There was a time in my life when I’d have been happy by myself. More often than not my family was overwhelming, but ever since Greer and I moved from Toronto to Calgary, we’ve been more alone than ever before. I’m not sure about Greer, but I am more than ready to change that.
It hasn’t been long since we’ve moved to Olds, a smaller city about an hour north of Calgary. The idea being we could settle in and get out more. Hopefully, meet a woman that is willing to hear us out and not some college girl looking for a good time. We’ve encountered our fair share of them, and it ain’t pretty.
The need to have a woman to take care of is beginning to override my common senses. I can’t concentrate at work. I find I stare off into space, thinking up the perfect woman but not accomplishing much of anything else.
The only problem?
We have to find her first.
Jet
“Stupid fucking Christmas.” Yeah, I’m grumbling to myself, fucking sue me. After my last client, I am ready to call this whole season quits. All the happy, little prep girl could do was brag about her holiday plans.
Skiing in Aspen with her family.
Yeah, family. What a fucking joke.
At least mine is. Twenty-two years old and I’m still the outcast—black sheep if you will. Everyone wants to like me but being true God-fearing Christian folks, they can’t understand my need to be different. The tattoos and piercings have them all looking down on me.
I thought I was over it until some happy apple family is everything client came in and screwed everything up.
My Pappy is the only one to understand my need to stand out, to be my own person. So maybe I shouldn’t have gotten my first tattoo when I was sixteen or rubbed it in my parents face so thoroughly, or gotten another one each time they tried to be stricter with me.
I am who I am, and they refuse to accept it.
One day, I’ll find someone who can.
I hope.
Chapter One
Eli
“Yo, man, get your shit; we’re going out,” I tell Greer as I walk into his office. His look is skeptical, but I don’t care, I’m ready to shake his ass up.
My plan is to take him to get a tattoo. One of the best artists in the province is finally taking new clients, and I have managed to get the first opening available.
Tonight.
Jet Ryhan is the best in the business according to anyone who has anything to say about tattoos. I have more than I can count, and Greer has gone with me for each one, always refusing to get one of his own. I know he wants one to memorialize his father who passed away two years ago, but the stubborn bastard always has one stupid excuse or another not to go.
He’s not allowed an out this time, though. Someone is getting tattooed tonight, and it’s not going to be me.
“What the hell? I got shit to do,” Greer bitches.
“Don’t care. We’re going out. Got uh, reservations and shit. Let’s go!” I call, walking away before he tries to convince me otherwise.
Greer and I grew up together. Him always being the quieter, more laid back one. Our families have been friends for generations, so it was no surprise when we became attached at the hip. As we got
older, Greer became more and more of an introvert, only going out when I insisted. Which I find sort of comical because a lot of people have misconceptions about our names. Greer is different, something you don’t hear often; therefore, folks think he’ll be the wild one with tattoos and an outgoing personality. Whereas my name is a little more proper I guess you could say, so they expect me to be the quiet one. I always have a blast proving people wrong.
Greer is disgustingly quiet with everyone but his family and I. He won’t drink for fear of doing or saying something out of turn and always tries to reel me in when we went out. Laughable actually.
Lately, though, there has been something different about him. He seems more restless and temperamental than a hormonal teenager, and I am worried. Waiting in my truck, he crashes out of the office building that houses our landscaping business with a deep scowl on his face.
“What the fuck are we doing, Eli?” he grouches, slamming the truck door harder than necessary.
“It’s a surprise!” He hates them, so I make as many happen for him as I can.
He bitches the whole way to the tattoo parlor, and as we pulled up, he shoots me a look so dirty I should be in hell.
“Tough shit, dude,” I tell him getting out of the vehicle and going to the front door.
Holy. Fuck. Is all that comes to mind when I see what’s inside.
Or rather, who.
Greer
Some days I want to strangle this prick. He is always pushing me beyond my limits. I hate it and love it at the same time, not fully understanding why I am the way I am. It’s like the more days that pass, the more reserved I become. There’s been no trauma causing me to close myself off, it’s just a slow slide I can see happening.
Occasionally, my cynicism makes me miserable as hell, but that’s what I have Eli for—the crazy bastard that he is. It has also saved us both from heartbreak and betrayal a time or two.
We’ve known each other since the day we were born; nothing could separate us, and so it wasn’t a shock to anyone when we started sharing women in college. Not long after that, we decided it was something we needed. We both felt more complete when we gained the pleasure of the same woman than when we were in a traditional relationship.
Some think us weird, but this is one thing that makes sense for me. Eli is the spontaneous half, while I am the more sensible one. All we have to do is find a woman to balance us out, but being able to attain that dynamic is what has me feeling so off lately. Loneliness is creeping in, and with the holidays upon us again, I want a woman to come home to. To call ours.
Watching Eli open the door to the tattoo shop and pause with a dumbstruck look on his face has me curious. My friend isn’t easily rendered speechless, so I climb out of the truck quickly.
A sight to be-fucking-hold greets me…
Tattoos everywhere. More piercings than should be legal. Bare slender legs that go for miles.
Fuck. Me.
Jet
Bending over in front of the desk, I’m going through a supply box of new ink I ordered from a new supplier only last week. The door jingles signaling my six p.m. client. Standing, I turn and brush the dust from my hands.
“Well, fuck,” I murmur but probably not quietly enough.
Two of the most incredibly handsome men I’ve ever seen walk in.
One is tall with shaggy brown hair, tattoos peeking from the collar of his shirt, and I see a few running onto his hands. The work looks immaculate enough that I feel the need for a closer look until I notice the scowl on his friend’s face. Clean-cut blondie has a body to die for, but I doubt he’s willing to look past the disdain in his gorgeous blue eyes.
“How can I help ya, fellas?” I can be polite.
Tattoo hunk clears his throat. “Got an appointment with Mr. Ryhan.”
Don’t laugh, Jet. It’s not the first time people have assumed I’m male because well, I am in a man’s world with a man’s name.
“You got her.” I smile serenely at them. Oh, this is gonna be fun. “Which one of ya is Greer?” Normally I’d say tattoo hunk, but I’m the queen of misconceptions, so I’m going with blondie.
“Wait! Let me guess?” I pretend to ponder them for a moment. Hunk smiles, blondie scowls. “Your tattoos tell me you should be, but the glower on Blondie’s face says he is.”
Tattoo hunk bends over howling at the nasty look his friend shoots him. “Not bad.”
“It’s a gift. What can I say? So really, how can I help you?”
Blondie still hasn’t spoken.
Going behind the front counter while they seem to be in some sort of eye fight, I look up the details of their appointment. Greer wants a memorial tattoo for his father. Hmmm, simple enough depending on where he wants it.
As they continue with their silent argument, I begin to draw. The man himself seems very staid, withdrawn, but I’m willing to bet he’s got some fire in him. It isn’t long before shape begins to take form. Simple but bold. The only color will be “Dad” so it stands out.
A large, simple cross with wings spread wide on either side form. Dark, avenging like they’re hugging the cross. Shading the cross in, I feel shadows approach my counter.
“Way to take care of the client,” a put-upon voice says above my head. Why does it have to be sexy? Like rough gravel and smooth bourbon. It sent shivers up my spine.
Not looking up from my sketch, I ask with a bite in my tone, “What year was he born?”
“What?” Greer asks the same time hunk replies, “1955.”
Sketching in “Dad” with a classic scrawling script through the bottom of the cross, I write the year he was born on one end and the year he died—which I had in the appointment book—on the other side of it.
Handing it over to Greer, I grab one of the boxes of ink and take it back to the supply closet, calling over my shoulder, “I’d do Dad in dark blue with a black outline or even some shading, make it stand out a bit.”
As I put my gear away, I can hear them mumbling back and forth to each other. I’m not sure if I should be insulted or amused by the fact that Greer can’t accept I am Jet Ryhan.
My employees know not to give away my gender when making appointments for people specifically requesting me because when I first opened the shop, I was a naïve young girl. My name sounds like a man’s, so that’s what people expected. And not to toot my own horn, but my shit is the shit. So equating quality work with a woman doesn’t always mean people think a woman can do it, and I’ve now become a enigma of sorts.
Which is stupid as fuck if you ask me. But what the fuck do I know, I’m just a woman.
Greer
“Holy…”
“Fuck,” Eli finishes before I can.
Her mouth.
Those legs.
Fuck me lips so plump I can almost feel their cherry red color wrapped around my cock so tight I’ll never move again.
“You see those lips?” Eli whispers to me.
“Oh, I see them all right,” I whisper back.
“Can you imagine them…?”
“Imagined and ingrained.”
I watch as she bends, stretches, and twists to put all her supplies away, and all I can imagine is the many ways I can bend her over backwards and anything else she’ll let us do to her.
Fuck, I internally groan.
I haven’t been this randy over a girl in years. What the fuck’s so special about her? She’s got attitude a mile wide and a mouth dirtier than sin.
Yet her eyes hold this vulnerability that she probably doesn’t even realize is there.
While pondering my attraction to her, she walks back to us. “So what do you think?”
“Think?” I ask stupidly, caught in the movement of her delicious red lips.
She smirks like she knows I’m caught. “Of the sketch, Blondie.” I wanna give her smart mouth something to chew on instead of spouting off at me.
“I like it.”
Eli seems to be drooling too much to say anything at
all. Looking out the corner of my eye, I can tell he’s trying to get another peek at her luscious ass.
“Great. Where do you want it?”
Eli suddenly slaps his hand on my chest so hard I lose my breath as he says, “Right over his heart.”
“Motherfucker! Dude! What the fuck?” What’d he do? Eat Wheaties for breakfast? My pec stings from the hit. I’m no slouch, but fuck that hurt.
“What? Just preparing ya for the needle is all.” His face tries to show innocence, but I recognize the laughter.
“Dickwad.”
“If you ladies are done bickering, why don’t you follow me? I’ll be gentle; I promise.” I know she doesn’t mean that to be dirty or sexy, but her voice is seductive. Soft, sensual with an undertone of need.
Eli trails behind her like a love sick puppy, and I want to make fun of him except I do the same thing. I believe this girl could walk off a cliff, and I’d happily follow her.
We’re so fucked.
Eli
I wanna lick her all over.
The attitude, the sass, her motherfucking mouth.
Yup, I’m done.
Goner.
Her ass will be in my hands the first chance I get.
“All right, Blondie, have a seat here. Hulk, grab a stool and shut it,” she demands as she goes to the cabinets along the wall and pulls out inks, new needles for her gun, and the other needed supplies. “I’ll be right back, just have to print this out.”
As she walks from the room, I strain to see her go, not wanting my eyes to lose her.
“You're gonna fall, man.” Greer laughs like he’s not trying to do that exact thing.
I have no words. She’s fine as fuck, and I can’t deny I’m watching her.