Noah reached for his smokes, placing one between his lips and lighting up. Everyone had a map of how to fuck—where it started and what to do. He’d bet his tattooing hand Nicole’s was designed around her ex. That dickhead must have liked her posing like a model in a skin magazine, helping him re-enact his favourite pornos. Well, he could go fuck himself. He was old news. He’d made Nicole feel sexy and if he had half a chance, he’d do it again.
He lay there, smoking and recalling Nicole’s body—the tight pink of her nipples, the splash of black hair on her pubic bone, the red flower of her cunt. He didn’t do portraits, but he’d give every dollar he had to paint her naked. He’d have her on his bed, smiling that just-fucked smile, the afternoon sun turning her skin to moonbeams. He’d paint her and then maybe she’d see she was beautiful.
He’d made a study of Nicole over the past few weeks and barely a day passed when someone, usually a male client, told her she had beautiful hair, pretty eyes, a gorgeous figure. The smile she gave in response was bright and empty. “Oh, thank you! Thanks so much!”
It was white noise. She didn’t think she was beautiful, so it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t, she’d given no signs she wanted him playing some pseudo boyfriend role in her life, soothing her nerves and painting her naked like that guy in fuckin’ Titanic. What she needed from him wasn’t sloppy compliments. It was dick.
He could show her the ugly side of sex; that was what she wanted, after all. And if they opened painful places, maybe he could slice them open and bleed her clean. An ugly metaphor, but pretty people could be ugly. That was what he’d tried to show her. Sex could be ugly. The good things in life weren’t all beautiful. She was, though. The best-looking woman he’d ever slept with. Noah drew deeply on his cigarette. He wasn’t sure what was next for him and Nicole, but he was sure he’d find out. The energy that had brought them together wasn’t going to fade after one, admittedly stellar, fuck.
***
Nicole wasn’t in the office the next morning. Neither Sam, nor Tabby seemed surprised by this, but Noah couldn’t ask why without showing his hand. He kept his head down, literally, filling in a blackwork angel he was tattooing onto Ferdinand’s thigh. He was a bricklayer whose daughter died in a car crash. His soft sniffs and gentle questions kept Noah’s focus razor sharp. When they were done, it was another story. He had an hour-long break to drink coffee and smoke and wonder where the fuck she was. His next client, a vet from Preston, cancelled on him—annoying, but she agreed to pay half his hourly fee. Now with even more time on his hands, Noah settled himself at reception and tried to read Destiny’s Dawn.
He failed miserably. Every time the door opened, every time someone walked past, he looked up, his adrenaline spiking. Didn’t help that he’d slept like shit. He’d had the same fucked up dream over and over— Nicole naked in the doorway of The Rangers clubhouse. He ran to pull her away and she turned to silver water between his fingers. Didn’t take a genius to join the metaphysical dots on that one.
The tiger doorbell roared, alerting him to a new client. Not Nicole; worse than Nicole.
“Heya!” Daniella’s lipstick matched her pink mini-dress perfectly, and unless he was mistaken, there was a sharpness beneath the pep.
Alarmed, Noah tried to think if they’d arranged to meet and came up blank. “Hey. I don’t have you in today, do I?”
“No, I just wanted to see you.” Her smile was hard as varnish. “You didn’t answer my text about drinks.”
Fuck, she was right. The message had come a few hours after he’d finger-fucked Nicole in his tattooing chair and he’d read without seeing, forgot it existed until now. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” she said, though her smile was hard. “Are we still on for drinks?”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. No time like the fucking present, son. “I, uh, don’t think that’s a good idea. Sorry.”
Daniella’s smile vanished. “Why?”
“I just…”
“Come on, tell me. I can take it.”
The hardness in her voice surprised him. He opened his mouth and the truth came out. “I’m interested in someone else.”
Daniella looked like a girl who’d just missed her bus. “Is it that woman who helped us with the card-swipe thingy?”
Noah did a double take. “Yeah, Nikki. How’d you know?”
“I could just tell.” She didn’t sound hostile, just a little down.
He wanted to stay silent, god, how he wanted to stay silent, but he knew he owed her. “I wasn’t trying to fuck you around when I said yes to drinks, but things changed, and yeah…”
“I get it.” Daniella hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder. “Good luck.”
“Yeah. Don’t let this stop you asking guys out, it’s fucking ballsy.”
Daniella’s smile returned, only this time it was warm. “Thanks. Well, follow my example with Nikki and hopefully you’ll have good news when I come in for my next tatt.”
“Yeah, maybe—”
The tiger doorbell roared, and as though she’d been summoned by the use of her nickname, Nicole DaSilva stepped into the studio. She was done up like he’d never seen her done up; black leather skirt, tight black top, her hair pulled into a glossy black pile on her head. He’d never seen her in black before. It made her skin look snow white and her blue eyes and red lipstick pop like fireworks. She looked like a dominatrix. Or a supermodel dressed up as a dominatrix for a weird fashion thing.
He gaped, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Daniella doing the same thing. He had no idea where the girl who’d drunk his wine and moaned in his bed had gone. Maybe this Nicole had eaten her.
“Hey,” he said. “Where you been?”
“Around.” She headed for the hallway, her heels clicking like dominos.
“Nice to see you again,” Daniella said.
Nicole flashed her a tight smile. “You too. Have such a fun time going out with Noah. I hear he’s a real dark horse.” She disappeared up the hall, heels snapping on the hardwood floor.
Daniella raised her eyebrows. “Looks like you’ve got work to do.”
“Yeah,” he said, because yelling ‘It’s not what it fuckin’ looks like, okay? I was doing the opposite of that!’ wasn’t an option. “Have a good day.”
“You too.” She grinned. “Dark horse.”
Noah was going to kill…someone. Something. After he got Nicole to explain what the fuck was going on.
He waited until Daniella was gone to head up the hall. Gil, Tabby, and Sam were all with clients, their music playing over the burr of their tattooing machines. Nicole had shut Edgar’s office door. He knocked, but she didn’t say anything.
Well fuck that. He pushed the door open and his heart kicked inward—she was so fucking pretty. Why was she so pretty? How was this fair? “Hey.”
She didn’t look up from the computer. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, you can tell me why you look like Morticia Adams.”
That got her to make eye-contact, albeit eye-contact as frosty as the arctic tundra. “I had an appointment.”
“At a haunted house?”
Her smile was saccharine sweet. “A laser clinic.”
He looked at her wrist, the diamond watch covering what he knew was beneath, and his mouth damn near fell open. “You’re getting your dad’s work taken off?”
“No, I’m having a tattoo I don’t want removed.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because it’s my body and I can do what I want with it.”
“Right.” Heat rose in the back of his neck. “And what you want is to get rid of the tattoo your whole family shares?”
Red bloomed in Nicole’s cheeks. “I was eighteen when I got it. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know what it would mean.”
“And what does it mean?”
She turned her head, refusing to look at him.
Noah couldn’t believe this; what the hell was going on with her?
/> “Do you have anything else you want to say?” Her tone was calm, but the colour on her cheeks was high. She was upset, or anxious, or something, she just didn’t know how to let it out.
He leaned in close. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can tell you what I tell all the cleanskins—if you think getting a tattoo is gonna make you a different person, you’re wrong. Taking one off is the exact same thing.”
Nicole kept her eyes on the screen. “Maybe that’s what you tell the cleanskins, but you know as well as I do that sometimes tattoos are more than just tattoos.”
“So what does that mean? You want to get rid of your family history? Where you came from?”
She said nothing.
He touched her shoulder, found her skin was ice cold. “Your sisters know what you’re planning, Nikki?”
“No.” Her voice was wavering. “But it’s not up to them. I don’t like it anymore. I don’t want to be that girl anymore.”
“What girl?”
She blinked, shedding two fat tears. Her eyes were so blue today, he was surprised the water was clear. He’d expected it to be sapphire.
“Nikki, talk to me.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re exactly like them. Sam and Tabby and Dad and everyone else that comes in here.”
He couldn’t help smiling a little at that. “I thought you’d know better than anyone that I’m not like everyone else that comes in here.”
Her ruby mouth curved upward. “Maybe not exactly like everyone else.”
“Not even close. But seriously, are you okay? You’re a ball of nerves right now, baby.”
The endearment slipped out without his conscious choice, but it didn’t feel wrong. Neither did the fact she turned and wrapped her arms around him. It felt like pulling on a hoodie on a cold morning, like the first cigarette of the day. He rubbed his hand along her back, trying to warm her.
“Noah?”
“Yeah,” he said, sure she was ready to talk. But when she pulled away, she was looking at him differently, her pupils wide, her lips parted like a gift.
“I want you to touch me. Right now.”
If it was anywhere but Edgar’s office, with anyone but Nicole, he’d have fucking gone for it, but it didn’t feel right. “Bad idea.”
“You’re not supposed to care about that.”
She could have meant his attitude in bed, but the twist in her mouth said she meant The Rangers, his history, his reputation as a piece of shit bikie. He thought of Shredder and shook his head. “Don’t put me in that box, Nicole. You don’t like it and neither do I.”
She brushed a hand over his chest, her citrusy perfume tickling his nose. “You must like it a little bit, you dirty talked me about it last night.”
The memories sent a throb running down the length of his cock. “You’re upset.”
“So?” She leaned in, her lips promising oblivion and bright red after-effects. “I want to do it again, rougher this time.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her hand slid around his waist, sending sparks up his back. “I do. I need you, Noah.”
And he was done for. The idea of her needing him was so electric it might have been a stimulant released into his arm. Outside, Sam’s music pounded, Chvrches with tattoo machines thrumming beneath it. His choice felt like no choice at all. He bent his head and kissed her. Her mouth was cool and eager. He tasted her lipstick and it made his dick hard. “Nikki.”
Her hands slid down his stomach, tugging at the button on his jeans. “Yes?”
He gripped her wrists. “Not so fast.”
“But I need it.”
It. Not him. It. She said she wanted him, but really she wanted escape from whatever was fucking with her head. It shouldn’t have stung, but it did. He kissed her harder, trying to get inside, but she was holding back. Not faking, but not showing. He needed more. That real girl in his bed who’d told him what she liked.
He nudged her backward, easing her back into her office chair. She sat down, pressing her palms to his thighs. “Do you want me to go down on you?”
Fucking if only. “Nah, put your hands on the armrests.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m gonna tell the whole studio you came while I was fucking your tits.”
She blanched. “You will not.”
He opened the door and cleared his throat for effect.
Nicole clutched his thighs like a drowning kitten. “Okay! I’ll do it!”
“So do it,” he said, shutting the door. “Hands on the armrests.”
She did it and he reached across her, grabbing the roll of electrical tape on the desk. He pulled out a length, reveling in the sharp tearing sound.
“You can’t tape me!”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“This top is expensive.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
She hesitated. “What if…what if someone walks in?”
“I’ll make sure they don’t.”
“Noah, you just can’t, okay?”
“Okay.” He circled the tape over her tits, making sure it bound tight enough to squeeze. For the first time since she’d walked through the door, Nicole looked like the girl sitting in his kitchen. She stared at the tape, and pressed her legs together. Turned on, but unwilling to admit it. Too fucking bad. She wanted ‘it’ so bad, she’d get it the way he wanted to give it. He looped the tape around her a few more times, until he was sure she wouldn’t be able to jerk away. She was breathing hard, red spots back on her cheeks. He turned the chair so she was facing him. “So.”
“So, what?”
He nudged her heels apart with his foot, spreading her legs as much as her tight skirt would allow. “How do you feel?”
“I…” The blush on her cheeks darkened. “What are you going to do to me?”
“What I feel like doing.” Noah flicked off the lights, plunging them into semi-darkness. Nicole didn’t say anything but he could practically hear her relief at not being observed. He unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, maneuvering until it was comfortable. He was already hard but gave himself a couple of rough strokes.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“You know what I’m doing.” With her free hand, he cupped the nape of her neck. “Still want to suck it?”
“Yes…but it’ll be hard in the chair.”
“Won’t be easy,” he agreed. He smoothed his hand up her neck and into her silky hair. “But you’ll try hard for me, won’t you?”
She shuddered slightly beneath his touch. “Yes.”
“Open your mouth.”
He felt her jaw fall open. She really was going to do it. He hovered a moment, contemplating putting himself between her lips, feeling the hot suck of her mouth for the first time. But that was what she expected him to do. He knelt, feeling for the hem of her skirt in the dark. Once he touched the soft leather, he rolled it up her legs.
Nicole jerked in the chair. “What are you doing?”
He could smell her now, hot and tangy. His mouth watered and he shoved her skirt higher, forcing it up her thighs. “What I feel like doing.”
She jerked again, kicking her legs. “No!”
He paused. “You don’t like head?”
“No! I mean, yes. Sometimes. But I haven’t had a shower today and—”
He’d heard enough. He reached up her thighs and hooked his thumbs into her underwear and tugged. God, he’d been thinking about doing this for fucking ever…
She squirmed in her chair. “Please, Noah, I’m all sweaty from the skirt. It’s too gross.”
The word sparked actual anger in him. Gross? What about her tight, silk-skinned pussy was gross? And even if it was sweaty, who gave a flying fuck? Sweat was salt and this was sex. It wasn’t always pretty and it didn’t fucking matter. He leaned back, trying to find her gaze in the dark. “How about you shut up and let me eat your gorgeous pussy, Nicole
? How about that?”
A short, heated silence.
“Fine. Just do it then.”
He could hear her promising herself she wouldn’t like it. Wouldn’t come. He’d fucking see about that. He spread her legs, and seeing all that silky skin, couldn’t help rubbing his face along her thigh. His stubble rasped against her and she gasped softly. Following her lead, he rubbed her again.
She made more delicious noises. “You said you were going to go down on me…”
He grinned to himself and gently bit her thigh. She wanted to play, she could wait a little longer. He continued his game, kissing and licking her thighs, getting closer and closer to the heat of her cunt.
After a few seconds Nicole was panting, shifting in the chair. “Noah?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Sleep with me. Right now.”
“No condom.”
“I don’t care.”
There was an edge in her voice. He could feel recklessness pulsating out of her, the need to make some big fucking mistake. He’d been an idiot to push her. She’d come in dressed like a BDSM pornstar and he hadn’t seen that she was out for blood. The appeal of being the one to take her in this state, fuck her raw and make her come was undeniable, but he wasn’t that big an asshole. “No.”
He bent his head, intending to give her what she needed, but she squirmed away. “I mean it…fuck me.”
The curse came out strained, unnatural. She was trying to be something she wasn’t again, some girl who could have casual sex and not feel anything. Noah’s gut tightened. Was this because of Daniella? Or because he’d left last night without making sure she was okay? “Nikki…”
“Don’t! Don’t call me that. Just…fuck me. Do it, please? If we don’t do it now, we’ll never do it again.”
She meant it. Her words had that hard ring of truth. She was bound, but she was issuing ultimatums like a queen on her throne. He hesitated, not knowing what to do.
So Steady: Silver Daughters Ink, Book Two (Silver Daughters Ink Book Two) Page 13