by Warren, Rie
The college boy left thirty minutes later, sans devil horns. Trixxie cleaned up her equipment then came out, waving her phone in my face.
“Got his number.” She popped one hip out.
“Surprise.”
“I might call this one. I’ve never had a frat rat. Besides, I felt his pecs. Wouldn’t mind if he screwed me against a door.” She leaned against the counter, crossing her big steel-toed boots. “He also knew who Dante Alighieri was. I think he had a brain to go with his beefcake.”
“Since when have you ever cared about the brain part?”
Trixxie ran through men like I ran through ink while in the zone. She was edgy, sexy, took what she wanted, and always left the same night. As she stood in front of me, I scanned her. Loose tanktop, no bra, studded belt on her low-rider jeans. Her perfectly shaved head at odds with her big baby blues and ultra-feminine features. Pierced eyebrow, stud in her nose, a ball piercing through the tip of her tongue. Pure black ink marbled her pale skin from her arms to her torso and all the way around to her back. The woman had almost as much of a boner for body art as me.
She whacked me on the shoulder. “Hey, brains are as important as big balls.”
I snorted.
“Shut it. When are you gonna get serious with someone?” she asked.
“Uhhh, lemme think about that.” I squinted off into the distance before returning my gaze to her. “Never.”
Trixxie hit me with a fist bump. “Word to that.”
She took control of a UPS delivery—probably got the delivery dude’s number, too, knowing her—and plopped the boxes on the counter. Halfway through unpacking the tubes, tips, grips, and shading ink, she held up a wide shiny silver ring.
With a laugh, she tossed it at me, shouting, “Hey, Cole! That cock ring you custom-ordered arriv—”
She stopped short as I caught the cock ring in the palm of my hand. Staring at the door, Trixxie’s eyes bugged out of her head, then a smile spread across her lips.
“Oh yeah.” Her hands clapped together once. “Looks like we got some fresh skin to work on.”
“Huh?”
Trixxie pointed, and I pivoted around.
Fucking Sin Chatham, in the flesh, inside Inksanity.
Chapter Three
GODDAMN. SHE LOOKED FIIINE. It was a Saturday. I guessed her idea of slumming it was wearing a sarong that bared the length of one of her amazing legs, a pair of sandals that wrapped up her calves in soft leather, and a strapless top that hugged her fuckhot figure in all the right places.
And her idea of going ghetto must’ve been trawling down here by the train yards.
Shock carried across Sin’s face as she took in Trixxie, me, and the aforementioned cock ring.
“Oh, hon. You worried about a little cock ring? Cole has things up his sleeves you ain’t even—”
“Trixx,” I cut her off midstream.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll zip it.” Swooping into one of the back rooms, she poked her head out for a final zinger. “Call me if you need a fluffer for her.”
Sinclair stood just inside the door, shafts of sunlight making a halo of her hair. “Are you with her?”
“No. We’re coworkers. I don’t fuck where I earn money.”
“Then how does she know about your cock rings?” Staring at the silver ring I closed my fingers around, she perfected the hands on hips stance once again.
“Why? You jealous?” One of my eyebrows hooked up.
“Hardly.” She flicked back her amazing pure blonde curls and peered at me. “Just seems like something personal.”
“We tattoo and pierce each other, see half-naked bodies all day long. Ain’t much that’s personal around here, precious.” I punched my knuckles down on the counter, the muscles in my shoulders and arms bunching. “Your driver waiting outside?”
“No. I drove myself. I have my own license and everything.” She used that same give it to me, big boy breathy voice she’d taunted me with last night.
Like she knew exactly what I thought about her—overprivileged, unused to hard times, freewheeling and fancy-free without a care in the world.
Her soft green eyes widened to complete the look of total ingénue. Too bad her body spoke another story. And I knew she was taking me for a ride with this Little Miss So Innocent façade.
I stalked to the windows and checked outside. Then my mouth dropped open. I rocked on my heels. I looked some more.
I groaned. “You’re fucking kidding me.” Pressing my index finger to the window, I think I probably drooled. Like a fool. “Tell me that’s not yours.”
“All. Mine.” Her sultry whisper hit my neck, and damn, that was hot, but not as hot as the car illegally parked outside the shop.
A kick-ass ’77 Trans Am.
“Four hundred horsepower in that thing?” I asked.
“Kicks like a mule with the engine of a bull on ’roids.” Sin slid next to me as I goddamn salivated over the muscle car.
With the pop-out top windows and the massive hood bird decal an authentic red and black Firebird, the car was sex-on-four-wheels.
“Fuckin’ A.” I almost jizzed in my jeans. I wanted to fuck her in it, on it, see her drive it, and get behind the wheel with her in my lap. Fuck. “I thought you’d drive a Merc.”
“This is my weekend car.” Her fingers traipsed down my arm. “What can I say? I have a thing for hot rods.”
And I just happen to have the one for her.
It fucking thumped in my jeans.
Dragging myself away from the imminent girl plus car-gasm, I walked back to the counter and ignored the ancient black bakelight phone ringing at the far end.
“So, what can I do you for, Sin?”
And how soon can I do you?
“Sadie told me where you work.”
Of course she did.
I made no comment.
Sin glided across the floor as I heard Trixxie get on the horn in the room next door, answering the call I’d tuned out.
“I think I want some ink.” Sin stood right in front of me.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure yet. Can I see some examples?”
We-elll, there were photos all over the walls, but I just so happened to have some living art to show her.
“Sure.” I whipped off my shirt.
I wasn’t a small boy. I was a badass man. The muscles came from daily workouts. The height—a mere six foot two that put Sin half a foot under me—matched my framework. The tats? They detailed memories, moments, people . . . my life.
Sin sucked in a breath and her eyes grew wide. Her touch on my chest fizzled through my skin, but I stood stock-still.
I remained silent except for a low grunt when she tugged on one of the nipple barbells.
“You weren’t kidding about the piercings.” Her warm gust of breath hit my skin, causing havoc to my willpower.
“I might be an asshole sometimes, but I never lie.”
She licked me, right across one of the barbells, right there in the middle of the shop.
My hand flew into her hair, and I pulled her back. “Unless you wanna get your pussy reamed across the counter right now, you better stand down.”
She moved back so suddenly she almost knocked over one of the boxes on the counter.
I shuddered all over, lifting half-mast eyes to her. “I’m not about to mar your perfect skin. Tattoos are off the table.”
She was gorgeous. Untouched. Peaches and cream and obviously protected from the hot South Carolina sun.
And she looked sooo damn good as she was, glaring at me.
“I don’t take no for an answer.” Her leg slid from the slit of her sarong as she cocked her hip and curled her lips.
“Too bad, precious. Ain’t gonna happen.” I smirked as I approached her. “And I’m more than happy to say no to you.”
“Then I’ll just get your colleague to do it.” Her arrogant chin lifted.
“The fuck you will. You don’t
need another damn thing on you.” I set my lips to her ear. “You’re sexy. A stand-out. A walking wet dream.” I licked those lush lips I’d kissed the night before—just a taste. “There is something I wanna do to you though.”
“What?” she whispered, searching for my lips as I pulled away.
“I’ll pierce your nipples.”
Her mermaid eyes flicked to mine then down to my nipples. “Like yours?”
“Oh, no. Although I’m sure you’d like that.” Lifting my hands to my chest, I tugged on the two barbells and twisted them.
Hot flames of arousal coursed through me.
Sin moaned through parted lips.
I’d been hard before, but now my cock suddenly broke new levels of stiffness.
My voice dropped, and I skimmed a hand down the clenching ridged muscles of my abdomen. “It can make your nipples ultra sensitive.”
Her gaze drifted lower, following the path of my hand. “I can see that.”
Leaning forward, I whispered against her ear. “For you I’d do hoops. Pretty little ones for what I bet are your pretty little nipples. Hoops I can attach things to, charms . . . ” And weights. And delicate chains . . .
Oh hell yeah.
Sin licked her bombshell lips.
I set my teeth lightly on her earlobe then bit down with firmer pressure until she moaned.
Drawing back, I observed her with a lazy smile. She practically trembled, and it was an insane turn-on seeing her lose her control.
“Unless you’re too much of a good girl?”
“I’ll let you do it.” Her hair whipped over her shoulder as she met my burning gaze.
I inhaled harshly, the image of her baring her tits for me, holding still while I pierced her nipples, overwhelmed me with a surge of animal-like lust.
Not yet though.
Dragging my shirt back on, I grinned. “You have to earn it first.”
“What?” Her voice rose several octaves.
“You heard me.” I checked the clock.
Twenty minutes until my next appointment. Definitely not enough time to do what I wanted to with her. Not here. Not now.
Sin wouldn’t go down without a fight, of course. That was what made baiting her so damn fun.
She shoved me on the shoulder when I turned back to my sketch.
“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear, Cole. I’m the Executive Director of The Fairley-Chatham Family Foundation. I manage millions of dollars per annum. I might’ve been privileged”—she stomped her foot—“but I work for what I have, and I’m damn successful. So if you think you can keep treating me like some harebrained flake just because of where I come from—”
“Then act like it, precious.” I cut her off mid-riff.
Pressing up onto her tiptoes, she got in my face, hissing, “Stop calling me that.”
I glanced behind her, then quickly pushed her away from me. Three rough-looking losers were outside with their hands all over her car.
“You need to leave now.” I prodded her to the door, going cold all over.
“But I’m not done—”
“You’re done. We are done.” My voice flinty hard, I urged her to hurry up as the gang bangers strutted inside.
Sin continued to resist until a skanky, skin-and-bones asshole brushed against her.
“Hey there, honey. What’s the rush?” He sneered at her.
Another one tried to sandwich her on the other side, his disgusting leer barely visible through a scraggly goatee. “Yeah. You look like you could be fun.”
Chapter Four
“GET THE FUCK AWAY from her,” I growled, forcing my way between Sin and the wasters.
Kyle, Brett, and Curtis were nightmares from my past.
Maybe sensing she was out of her element in a major way, Sin zipped her mouth shut and hustled the hell out.
My old gang glued themselves to the windows to watch her. The second she unlocked the muscle car, the crude comments began:
“That rich bitch needs a cock in her hand, not a gearstick.”
“I hear that. I’ll be her gear daddy.”
“Piston the shit out of her,” scumbag number three said.
Shaking with rage, I only released a breath when Sin started the engine and squealed out of her spot. She shot down the road and out of sight.
With nothing else to keep their attention, the trio of thuglies turned to me.
“What the fuck do you want?” I pounded my fist down on the counter.
“Hey, Coletrane, that ain’t no way to greet old friends.” Curtis pushed off the hood of his sweatshirt, revealing red-rimmed eyes, a red-tipped nose, and hacked off mouse-turd brown hair.
He looked scrawnier and more tweaked than ever.
“You aren’t my friends.” Years ago I used to look just like him.
Down on my luck. Looking for a buck. Blitzed out of my head and needing a bigger dose of crank to reach my high.
Now I was bigger, stronger, smarter. And clean. I didn’t scare easy, just so long as these three delinquents never made a connection between Sinclair and me.
“We came to squeeze you for some money.” Brett, the biggest of the group, shoved up to the counter.
Maybe he was mixing steroids with his crystal.
“Who the hell do you think you are? The Godfather?” I knew one such Godfather type—Frankie Burelli—and he was the real ex-Mafioso deal, unlike these three runny-eyed meth heads.
That didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. I should know. I used to run with them.
“What about that hot bitch. Bet she’s loaded.” Kyle stroked the straggly ends of his sad attempt at a goatee.
Even from several feet away his unwashed stench nearly made my eyes tear up.
My jaw clenched. “Just a customer. Don’t even know her.”
“Probably not that hard to look up the owner of a car like that.” Curtis sniffed-sniffed-sniffed then swiped at his nose.
“See, we ain’t stupid anymore, neither. Maybe you went to college and all that, but we took over Charlestowne Crank Town when that Dirk asshole got himself shafted and sent up the river. Had to expand operations. Got our own inner-webz operations goin’ on.” Kyle inched closer, mentioning the bust that had nearly gotten Brodie Steele’s old lady killed.
“Then it doesn’t sound like you need money.” Reasoning with these brain-dead druggies was probably a waste of good oxygen.
“Here’s the thing. You gotta have resources to grow. And we’re gettin’ resourceful.” Brett pulled out a POS Lorcin handgun and spun it on his finger.
Seeing that gun reminded me of the time we’d been so wasted we’d played Russian Roulette. That was how stupid I’d been. I’d thought I was invincible, fucking badass. It’d taken a monumental wake-up call to realize just how wrong I was.
While Brett waved the weapon around, taking aim at various parts of the wall behind me, Curtis asked, “How’s your sister?”
My stomach dropped to my feet, my face hardening in rage.
Brett sneered at me and pulled the trigger. The empty chamber clicked, but he made the sound of an explosion.
“Oh yeah, now I remember.” Curtis smacked his palm to his forehead.
“She dead.” Kyle added, and they all laughed.
The need to do violence, bash some heads, break some skulls exploded inside me.
As I snarled, about to charge forward, Trixxie stuck her head into the room. “Hey, Cole. Where’d your girl go—?”
I didn’t spare her a glance as her voice cut off. She must’ve seen the gun.
“Go. See to your customer.” I knew full well she was back there alone but hoped like hell she’d get the picture and pull a disappearing act.
Trixxie wisely shut herself inside the room. I heard her hit the lock, too.
“Your girl, huh? That blonde? You said you didn’t know her.” Brett turned the gun on me.
My inner beast was in full force as I lurched forward. I drilled the motherfucker against the wal
l and slammed the gun from his hand.
With my forearm cranked against his neck, I almost foamed at the mouth. “You do not mention the blonde again. You do not look for her. And while we’re at, don’t you even fucking think about my sister either, because—God rest her soul—I will rip off your fucking limp dick and cram it down your throat until you choke on it.”
I pounded my fist in his meaty face.
The fast hard thud of the punch was so satisfying I let fly with one more. Blood spewed from Brett’s mouth, and he cried out.
“Thought you went legit and shit.” He cupped his mouth and nose, speaking with a wheeze when I backed away. “Just dropped us when Brooke bit it. Like it was our fault.”
“What did I just say about my sister?” I stared at the three of them, my breathing jagged, as jagged as the cuts on my knuckles. “Anyone else want a go at me?”
Maybe the cravings set in. Maybe they’d hit their lows and needed that next fix. Maybe I’d shaken their shit up enough they wouldn’t try to fuck with me again. Whatever it was they all stood down as if suddenly losing their swagger.
“Get the fuck out. Now. And do not come here again.” I pointed at the door as blood dripped from my ripped open knuckles.
Brett loomed in the doorway, cradling a sleeve over his mashed face. “Can’t promise that. We still need some cash.”
“You changed, dude.” Curtis slid toward the exit, pulling his hood over his head.
“Damn fucking right I did.”
****
After my old crew left, taking their druggie reek with them, Trixxie popped out. She asked a million questions a minute, none of which I answered.
Getting through the day was a slog. Normally I turned off my head and tuned right into the hum of my ink gun, losing myself in the designs I decorated on untouched skin.
Not so this time. Curtis, Kyle, and Brett showing up out of the blue bent my brain all out of shape. I didn’t care so much about me. It was Sin I worried about.
At about quitting time, I finally broke down and dialed Sadie, Kinkaid’s woman and Sin’s close friend. Two minutes later I had Sin’s digits.