by Leah Holt
I'm not an artist, I'm a failure.
Dana's voice echoed over my shoulder, but I pushed her words away.
This had been a waste of time.
Chapter Twelve
Kash
Her face was priceless. Lashes turned to whips, eyes turned to razors. The plump lips that plagued my thoughts pushed out, forcing a natural swell to the already thick flesh.
My heart skipped, my stomach jumped. My cock jerked to life, ready to ravage the woman I've wanted.
But then her body curled into itself, coiling away and retreating. Her muscles all withered in defense, excitement turning to sorrow.
I never meant to upset her.
Willow had looked stunning, the deep purple dress smoothly blanketed her curves in a silk layer, the sweetheart top dipped in, letting her breasts breathe for my eyes.
And letting my eyes devour the cleavage as she inhaled angry oxygen.
But she stormed off, huffing and puffing about my presence.
She never expected me. No one ever does.
The many people I had lifted off the dirty ground and held into the spotlight, never imagined that I was the owner of 'INK.'
But how could they?
During the day when I wasn't occupied with tattooing is when business took place, that's when the suit covered who I truly was, and my mind broke free. At night, I let my arms talk for me, I let the art on my body draw every eye my way.
And I can't lie, I loved the attention.
“Theodore, you really need to watch what you say. This was a big day for her.” Dana shot me the eyes of an angry mother. The delicate wrinkles by her lips pulled in tight as she pursed her mouth.
“What? I don't know why she got so angry. I was complimenting her paintings.”
Dana veered her stare, frustration filling her gaze. Her arms folded over each other, foot shooting out to the side. She didn't need to say it, I knew what she was thinking.
“I'll go talk to her,” I said, flicking the collar of my jacket.
“Yeah, I think you should. She was already nervous enough without you throwing your cheap sex talk at her.” Squeezing her arms, her foot tapped the floor like a tempered bottle ready to pop.
I had known Dana for years, she was used to my antics, and for her to wave a stern finger at me... I might have crossed the line.
But I couldn't help it. I had blue balls for days after that night with Willow, and no matter how much I jerked off to ease the pain, it didn't go away.
The tightness sat there, wrangling my manhood with thick fingers.
All I could think about was her warmth, her scent, the way she tightened around my finger with need. The gloss of her lips made me think of her wet sex below, her chest filling up made me picture her inching her way to orgasm, before it was all cut short way to quickly.
Seeing her here, it only fueled the fire.
“I'll go find her.” Heading out the door, I made my way to the parking lot. Looking around, I spotted Willow hunched over a broken rusty fence.
She was rubbing her temples, head slumped forward onto the steel metal ringlets. And the rest of her body looked just as deflated. Her shoulders leaned in, leg dipping her toes in the large cracks that looked like lightening in the pavement.
Running a hand through my hair, I walked up behind her. “Willow?”
“Fuck off, Kash.”
“Hey, I came out to apologize, you don't need to bite my head off.”
“I don't want your apology. You can take it and shove it.” A soft sniffle broke her words, hand running across the front of her face.
Is she crying?
Shit, I fucked up more than I thought.
I wanted to tease her, help her remember the intense electricity between us. But it bit me in the ass, turning my playful game into a dream crushing song.
Willow kept her head buried, face turned away as I tried to look at her.
“I'm sorry, I should have been—”
Cutting me off, she snapped. “Less of a dick.” Her hair splashed up against her cheeks, falling away with a cool breeze that circled around us.
Every muscle in my body fell harder, weakening to her tantalizing allure that gripped my core.
“Well, that, yeah.” Dragging my fingers through my beard, my hand slid over my jaw. “But I should have been more professional.” That was a hard thing for me to say.
I don't apologize, ever.
Especially if it was just for being myself.
Or calling out to something I wanted.
Apologies meant you said something you shouldn't have. Or that you're not proud of who you are, and that you're better off thinking like the person you're with.
Apologies steal your voice, your mind, your thoughts, your feelings.
I never apologized, until her.
There was a time in my life, a time that I decided to push away, to forget. A time that an apology was needed, was expected, but I ran away. I couldn't do it.
And I regretted that moment more than anything, if I could take it back I would.
But time doesn't wait around for you to be ready, it doesn't pause or shut down. Time had escaped me, and now that chance was gone.
Maybe this was my chance to make up for that, to try and fix myself to be better.
To realize mistakes are made, choices are forgiven, and I can forgive myself for not saying sorry when I should have.
Where is this coming from?
Why do I care how she feels?
Something strange rode my spine. It was... It was... A feeling. One that had been erased with my past, with my...
Forget it.
Willow deserved my apology, she came into this thinking I would be someone else. She came into this with her heart on a silver platter, not expecting to be faced with the man who stole a piece of her innocence in a cold tattoo chair.
Was she a virgin?
No, not with the way she accepted my hand.
But maybe.
I questioned myself about that one. Her sex was so tight, so needy, so wet.
She melted over my hand in a way I never felt before. Virgin or not, I stole some piece of her that night, and decided to keep it for myself.
I was selfish, claiming her moment, thinking only of my own needs.
My need for her, my need to see her, to have her.
To steal her from the rest of the world and make her mine.
Then she was there, placed on the dish for me. It was hard for me to not say I wanted her, to not grab her violently and wrap her up so tightly she'd never be able to escape.
Especially after that night.
And what I had said was tamed, but only because Dana was there. If I had let the words out that were flying around my skull, Willow's head would have blown clear off her neck.
Normally I didn't ever go to meetings with anyone else there. I needed to read my investment, feel out their motives and inner desire to make it all work.
But Dana had been very adamant that she was coming this time. She said her client was extremely nervous, and she wanted to support to her, but wouldn't interfere with my side of things.
Because it was my money, not hers. And she knew how important it was for me to read their faces, their bodies. I had to see them for myself, and another mouth meant more input, more ways to feed the bullshit if it was thrown my way.
I hate to be bullshitted.
Had I known it was Willow... I would have cut her demand in two and fed her the pieces.
“Yeah, you should have been more professional. But it's a little late for that. So you have yourself a nice day.” A taxi pulled up to the curb, her hand stretching out swiftly for the handle.
Throwing the door open on the car, she slipped inside, speaking quietly to the driver. My eyes were drawn to her thigh immediately, my signature bright and bold across her skin. A smile split across my face, and I couldn't stop it from shining.
“At least if you won't let me help you now...” Pointing to th
e succulent skin of her leg, I said, “That will help you in place of me.”
Rolling her eyes, she tried to slam the door shut, but I held it strong. I wasn't ready to let her go, not now, not ever. And not without setting up another meeting.
“I don't know how people around here know you did this, but I'm wearing pants for the rest of my life.”
Jabbing a hand to my heart, I stumbled backwards. “That one hurt, Princess.”
“Didn't I tell you to stop calling me that, you know my name.” Her eyes flicked up, lids slit.
“Willow, yes, it's a name I've enjoyed dreaming about.”
“You really can't stop yourself, can you?” A devious smirk curved her lip, head shaking side to side.
“Nope, I can't, not with you. And just think, everyday you'll get to think of me. Whether it's when you shower, or lotion, or the next time someone moves out of your way. You'll think of me, and that was the point.”
“The point? How can everyone around here know you gave me this?” Arching a brow, small crinkles rode the bridge of her nose.
I had the urge to stroke her face, slide my fingers down her nose and smooth the confusion from her hardened gaze.
“You haven't noticed it yet?”
“Noticed what?”
“Take a good look at the tree, you'll see it.”
Glancing down, Willow gave her leg a momentary stare. “I don't see anything. Look I have to go, I don't have time for your games.”
“You'll see it, eventually.”
“Okay,” she said, her words mimicking the same tone as her eyes. Annoyance.
I knew what she was really thinking. Willow thought I was full of myself, that I was a conceded bastard that was spoiled and always got what he wanted.
And she was right.
I made this, I made the Kash I was now.
The money, the notoriety; it was the exact same thing that she wanted, the same life she hoped to achieve.
Why else would she need an investor?
What she failed to realize was I could give her that, I could give her anything she ever wanted, and more.
“Let's do this again.”
“No. I don't think so.” She laughed, the cold hum buzzed off her lips.
And my cock shook.
“Seriously, let's do this meeting again. But let's do it over dinner.”
Her hand fell hard into her lap. “Are you kidding me? After all this, not a chance.”
“Hey, you wanted an investor, and that's me. Let's do this right. Meet me at seven at Toujours tonight. Come dressed fancy, and ready to sell yourself.”
“One,” she said, raising a single finger. “I don't own anything fancier than this. Two—” A second finger tangoed with the other. “Why would I ever do that after how you acted?”
“Because you want to, and you want more than just your art to sell.” With hooded lids, a delicate smirk lifted against my jaw. Drawing my thumb over her cheek, she sat motionless, fingers squeezing a death grip around her sparkly silver clutch. “Seven, don't be late.”
And with that I turned and strolled off. Whistling a tune I couldn't remember the words to, and a verse that I'd never understand. I let the music fill my body and warp her image into the muse of my evening.
“I'm not promising anything!” She yelled from the safety of the taxi, as my feet led me further and further away.
Willow would be there. I knew she would, it would be stupid for her to pass on this opportunity.
How was I sure?
Because her body shuddered under my touch, her lids lowered to cover half her eyes.
And the warmth of skin turned to red hot flames when my hand grazed her face.
That was all I needed to see and feel.
She would be there.
Chapter Thirteen
Willow
No, I'm not going. Screw him, screw his money.
I don't need it. I'll do this myself.
Flipping through my closet, I tugged out every dress I had that remotely looked fancy enough for Toujours. Spreading the used fabrics across the comforter, I pined away at which one would stand out the least in a restaurant like that.
Toujours was renowned for its glitzy glam décor, high profile customers, and everything that screamed, 'I'm rich! Go on, you can look at me.'
I wasn't surprised to see none of the dresses I had fit the bill. Not one carried enough dazzle to stand up to a restaurant like that.
There were two made of cotton, speckled in small flowers, with no shape. Another had a huge wine stain from a night out with Beth (Not my stain by the way), and the last two had long thin tears in the lower skirts where they had been caught in the washing machine on a rough spin cycle.
Thank you 'well-maintained' machines from the local Clean and Dry laundromat. Dragging my hands down over open lips, I stared blankly at my heap of junk dresses.
Nope, not going. Why did I even debate it?
Because deep down he was coiling around my gut like a boa constrictor, digging his fangs into my core and pulling me in.
Kash had two sides, I hadn't expected that. He wasn't just some bad ass tattoo artist who tickled my sensitive button in a moment of weakness; he was a man of business, a man of money.
From what little Dana had told me about the so-called investor, 'Theodore,' she said had done wonders for this city. He gave to so many people who needed the help, he made them, lifted them up, and gave them all a chance.
I wanted that chance, needed that chance. But when Kash walked through that door, my entire dreams deflated and blew away.
He was pompous, self centered, and didn't even bother to take our meeting with any grain of seriousness. He strolled around my paintings like a breeze through an open window, gently stroking the frames and his feral need to make me blush.
And blush I did.
Between his distinct cologne that swarmed my senses, and his not so subtle remarks that inflamed images of his touch; the man had me changing every shade of red in less than ten minutes. He took our meeting and turned it into a damn foreplay session.
So why should I give him a second chance?
This sucks! I really needed this!
My last resort was attempting to land a bank loan. But that would never happen, I had nothing to give the bank in return; no solid job, no cash to pay them back. I couldn't have due dates, and interest added on that was more than half the payment of what I would owe.
An investor was my best hope. They could give money to start me off, let me get settled, and have a decent time frame set up for me to make them their money back.
My mind kept drifting back to Kash in his suit. The way his muscles thrashed beneath the fabric, teasing my eyes and hot center. The bulges of his arms worked to be freed, as if the suit was denying them of air when he stroked my cheek with his thumb.
And in my head I wanted to feel them around me, feel him scoop me up and let his arm take charge of my body.
The feel of his thick finger as it pressed deep inside, the tingles that shocked my system as he fondled my clit, tempting my body to give in; a cold sweat saturated my back, reliving that feeling in one sudden flash.
I couldn't stop the prickles from riding my hairline, traversing my skin and hitting my brain. Kash was able to induce sheer pleasure, without a word. His eyes, his body, they said it all.
God damn! Why is he doing this to me?
How is he doing this to me?
Shaking my head, I threw myself down onto the hoard of crappy, twenty dollar thrift shop dresses. I hated the feeling crawling across my insides.
I wanted him, I needed him, and that was the truth.
But I hated how he expected me to give in, how he thought he could take advantage of me.
Did he take advantage?
I didn't say no.
I didn't say anything.
I let him, I gave in to him. And I would have given him all of me had Beth not come back.
Deep down I knew if he had tempt
ed me with his cock, I would've let him in. Kash could have done anything to me in that moment, anything he wanted.
And I would have accepted it with open thighs, just like I took his hand.
The high pitched buzz of my doorbell sounded. Confused, I sprung up from the bed and peeked outside. The sidewalk was empty, except for the random people walking by.
What the hell? Who rang the bell?
Walking to the door, I jammed my eye into the small peep hole. Looking around the tiny area of my hallway, there was no sight of a person.
Weird. It must have been an accident.
Tugging the door slowly open, I inched my head out. I didn't want to let down my guard. There were plenty of crazy people in this city, the last thing I wanted was some psycho shoving me back inside, and trying to rob me... Or worse.
Shuddering at the thought, I was about to close the door when I noticed a white box on my welcome mat.
Okay, now this is bizarre.
The box looked like your typical white clothing box with a long stem red rose secured to the lid with a pink ribbon. Leaning out into the hall, I twisted my head around side to side, but the hall was empty.
How did this get here?
Confusion was raking my brain. My bell had been rung, but I didn't buzz anyone in. The hall was ghostly quiet, but there was a mystery gift placed at my door.
Cautiously, I picked up the box, holding it out like it was a diseased garment. You can never be too careful, what if it was explosive and decided to fire off when I lifted it up?
Come on, Willow. Who would blow you up?
Get a grip.
Taking one last look around, there wasn't a sound. No feet, no voices, not even the whispered chirp of my neighbors bird made it out into the hall.
Closing the door, I locked the deadbolt, just staring at the mysterious box.
A small note was stuffed under the flower, hidden almost completely by the large bloom on top. I was surprised I even noticed it.
Pulling it out, the paper was folded, tight crisp edges held it closed in my hand. Peeling back the seams, I took a deep breath as I read the message.
'Willow,
Please accept my gift. This should be perfect for tonight, it will fit your body like it was made for you. A gorgeous dress for a gorgeous girl.