by Elle Boon
Tymber tightened his arms around Ivy. “Why were you bleeding?” he gritted out.
“My stepdad decided it was time I earned my keep. I was sixteen, and he...he assumed I’d been screwing Luke so why not him. That night, I lost my birth family only to gain another, this one by choice and acceptance. King is a hardass, but there was nobody I trusted more than him and the club. They made sure my mother and her husband left town after Luke kicked the shit out of him. Heck, probably the entire state, or they’d face King, who was ten times worse than Luke. Trust me, leaving was the better option.” Tears fell from her eyes, memories of that time clearly still painful.
“I’m glad you had them, even though I still want to punch him in the mouth,” he said only half joking.
“I’m happy you didn’t follow through with that tonight. I know many think an MC is nothing but outlaws and men whose sole purpose is to fuck shit up, but that’s not the truth. The week following my escape from the fucker and my mom, I realized that wearing a patch was more than getting together for shits and giggles. Sure, there was a lot of that, but the MC was a family that banded together no matter what. Not one man looked at the other and thought ‘how can they help me’ within the club. When you commit to the lifestyle, you’re given a family who look for ways to help each other. They, as a whole, always look to give, never expecting to receive. To many, it may sound idealistic, and yeah, I think there’s probably clubs like that, but not the Royal Sons. Not King and his brothers. I literally had the clothes on my back when I became one of them. No, women aren’t patched members, but I was still a Royal. I never had to worry if someone would be there to catch me when I fell. They may be psychotic, a little twisted, and a whole lot fucked up, but they’re family. Blood or not, we’re a hodgepodge of individuals banding together, blending as one big fucked up family, but that’s what they were and would always be, family. Royally twisted was what Luke and I called us.”
Tymber let her cry, holding her in his while she sobbed. When she sighed and relaxed in his arms, he carried her back to the bed, tugging the comforter down before easing her inside. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.” He kicked his boots off, unsnapped his jeans, pushing them and his briefs down, all while holding Ivy’s gaze. “I know how easy it is to look at someone and judge them, making a snap decision about who and what they are. Nobody knows the path that leads them to where they are today. What I do know is, you’re more than your past. You see, I saw through the smiles you give me. I knew there was pain hidden behind the mask you wore and still thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d laid eyes on. You never have to hide from me, Ivy.”
He moved in next to her, pulling a lock of her hair with his hand.
Ivy moved until she straddled his waist, her fingers tracing the scar he’d covered up with a new tattoo. The roaring lion was mighty and fierce, a symbol he needed at the time.
“You don’t ever have to hide from me either,” she whispered.
Tymber ran his hands up her legs, his thumbs tracing her outer lips, finding her wet. “I need to be inside you, Ivy.”
She laughed, then shocked him speechless as she bent and kissed his chest, tracing the scar with her tongue. “I want you in me too.” Her ass wiggled while she moved down, his dick trapped between them slid through her folds.
In that moment, he realized that through tragedy, adversity, and heartache, he’d found his soulmate. With her by his side, he would battle the world to keep her safe from harm.
“I think I love you, Tymber Black,” she whispered sliding along his length.
Tymber flipped their positions, leaning over to snatch a condom out of the drawer, he ripped the foil open and had it rolled on in record time. “Good to hear, Ivy, ‘cause I’m pretty sure I’m head over ass in love with you as well.”
Epilogue
The sound of a Harley pulling up had Tymber looking out the window of his tattoo shop, Twisted Ink. Ember and Lincoln, his two best friends and business partners glanced up as he muttered “Fuck me!” He was sure his tongue had more than likely hit the floor, right along with his tattoo gun at the sight of Ivy climbing off her bike. He stared, mouth agape as she turned her back to his shop, her ass in a pair of tight fitting jeans that molded to her curves like they’d been painted on, while she bent and placed her skull cap on one of her handlebars. Fuck, he wanted to run his hands over every dip and...he pulled his mind away from what he wanted to do with Ivy. Having a major hard-on wouldn’t be on his list of things to do in the middle of his shop, especially with Ember and Lincoln staring at him.
He turned to see if they noticed, but both of their eyes were trained on his woman, making him all kinds of irrational. The first thing his caveman instinct wanted to do was punch both men in the nose, rendering their ability to look their fill null and void. The second thing his inner Neanderthal wanted to do, was rush to the door and take her back to his place where he could strip her naked and do all the dirty things he’d fantasized about. Instead, Tymber tossed a balled up bunch of paper toweling toward Ember, who happened to be closest to him, before striding toward the front door to meet Ivy. “Be on your best behavior, assholes,” he warned.
“I’m always the best,” Ember agreed, wagging his tongue obscenely, his tongue ring glinting in the light.
Lincoln grunted. “You’re only the best when I’m not involved, then you’re second best. Don’t cry like a bitch though, it’s hard to compete with all this.” Lincoln grabbed his crotch.
Tymber stopped before opening the door, seeing their antics through the reflection in the window. “Nope, not happening. You two are not going to scare her off. She’s...special,” he breathed.
Ember tossed his hands in the air, the man laying on his table laughed. “Don’t even say it, jackass.” Ember pointed the tattoo gun toward the guy, silencing him. “Of course she’s special, brother. All you’ve done since you’ve met her is talk about her. We’ve been waiting for her to come back ever since you inked her the first time.” He crossed his big brawny arms that were covered in tattoos, his emerald green eyes narrowed.
Tymber shrugged but didn’t respond right away, his stare going outside. Ivy and he had spent the last few weeks getting to know each other better, solidifying their relationship. He’d known within a very short time she was the woman for him, and she had said the same about him. Shit, she’d fallen asleep under his tattoo gun while he’d been inking her ribs, a spot that was usually tender, yet Ivy had not only not made a peep, she’d fallen asleep, hard.
He pulled the door open but glanced backward. “I know. I’d apologize for not having her come by sooner, but I’d be lying. I didn’t want to share our time together just yet.”
Lincoln laughed. “You got it bad, boy.”
“Oh yeah,” he agreed as he walked out meeting Ivy on the sidewalk. “Hey, gorgeous. What’re you up to?” Before she could answer, he tugged her into his arms, the need to feel her lips under his overrode all other thoughts. He been sure his caveman instincts were in check. Clearly, he was wrong. If they’d been behind closed doors, he was positive he’d have had the both of them naked, or at least minus enough clothing he could’ve been buried in her sweet pussy. However, the sound of a car honking brought his head up.
“Hey,” she whispered.
He lifted his hand to trace the moisture left on her lips from his kiss. “Hey yourself.” Unable to let her go, he kept his arms locked around her waist. “Do you have any clue how fucking sexy you look sitting on your bike, getting off your bike, and hell, even standing next to it? I think I’ve come up with a dozen fantasies of you and me, fucking on my bike.”
She grinned. “Why’s it on your bike? I thought you said I was sexy on my bike?”
His right hand trailed down to her ass, cupping one cheek in his palm. “Baby, I’d fuck you on either one of our bikes, but I think my seat is a little bigger, making it much more accommodating for what I have in mind.” His dick jerked beneath his denim, letting him
know he was more than willing to give it a go. When he’d first met her he had no clue she even owned a bike, yet after finding out she was associated closely with the Royal Sons MC, she had been gifted one years ago by King, the President. Ivy thought, since Luke’s death the club would take her bike, the same way they’d taken Luke’s. King, being the standup guy Tymber knew him to be wouldn’t hear of it.
“Jesus, you make my panties wet just thinking about it.” She pressed her forehead against his chest, shivering in his embrace.
Tymber loved how responsive she was to his words and touch. Since the first time they’d made love, she never shied away from whatever he suggested. His girl liked it soft, hard, sweet, or dirty, any way he gave it to her, she enjoyed it. “Come on inside, I have a couple dickheads wanting to say hi.”
Ivy lifted her head. “I came to see if you would ah...give me another tattoo. Remember when we talked about what I wanted?”
His mind raced. One night after they’d made love, she said she wanted to get another tattoo, this one she wanted to see about doing something like the semi-colon, only making it personal. When he’d realized the significance, his mind began working on designs for the suicide symbol, and how he could personalize it for her.
“Yeah, I have a couple drawings for you, but if you don’t like them I can start over.” He brushed his lips over hers again, unable to stop himself. “Come on, let’s take a look.” He took a step back, keeping one arm around her.
Ivy looked at the shop next door. “High Maintenance? I’ve heard of that salon. One of the Old Ladies goes there. I really need a new stylist. Maybe I’ll stop in there one day.” She nodded toward the closed shop with the colorful window front.
“They’re usually open. Not sure what’s up.” Tymber held the door open to his shop, the familiar buzz of the tattoo guns filling the air.
“Yo, Ivy, you ready to leave him for me yet?” Lincoln asked, not looking up from the woman he was tattooing.
Lux snorted. “Sure, she’ll leave the good one for the bad seed.”
“That hurts. Come kiss it better.” Lincoln scooted back and spread his legs.
“Pretty sure that’s sexual harassment.” She pretended to write a note in the air. “Keeping notes, boss man,” she said without heat.
Lincoln grinned. “I really like the way that rolls off your tongue. I want to hear it when you...”
Lux held her hand up. “If you finish that, I will come over there and staple your lips shut.” She held the stapler up, making it click together.
“I’m not into that kind of shit, that’s Ember’s gig.” He pointed his free hand at the other man.
Ember raised his head, eyes narrowed. “You’re just jealous. Besides, how do you know if you’d like it or not if you ain’t tried it? Am I right?” He asked the room at large.
The woman lying on Lincoln’s table laughed. “I think you’re all nuts, but then again, I’m lying here getting a tattoo by my ex’s enemy so it’s all relative.
Silence fell on the entire room.
“Um, who is your ex?” Lincoln asked.
She turned her head, meeting his blue gaze. “Tommy Pelosi.”
The name didn’t mean shit to Tymber, but it had Lincoln freezing, his usual friendly gaze hardening. “What the fuck are you doing in my shop?”
“Tommy and I got divorced yesterday. I wanted to do something...for myself and this was something he forbid me to do.”
Lincoln pushed away from the table, running his hand down his face. “What? Get a tattoo, or get a tattoo from me? ‘Cause either one would put you in the shit house with him. Fucking Pelosi’s woman.”
“Man, you gonna be able to finish, or you need me to come in clutch?” Ember asked.
“Nah, I just finished. I was just getting ready to clean her up.” He took a deep breath.
Tymber looked at Ivy then at the woman. “Give me a minute?”
Ivy nodded.
“Here, let me take care of that,” he offered, holding his hand out for the solution bottle that they used to spray on a tattoo before wiping away the excess ink. Lincoln shook his head, holding the bottle tighter.
“I got it. Lux, this one’s on me. Can you print the aftercare instructions out for Mrs. Pelosi please?” His tone was neutral, the same one he used on clients he didn’t know.
Tymber and Ember stayed close, not because they didn’t trust Lincoln, but because he was their brother, maybe not in blood, but by choice. They’d been through war together. Lost other brothers in countries they didn’t belong, and stayed strong, stayed best friends. Whatever was going down, had gone down before they knew one another, wouldn’t change their dynamics.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. This...this was my taking back something he took from...never mind. Thank you for this.” She waved at her thigh.
The piece his friend had done was a work of art and had gone up almost to the woman’s panty line. If her ex ever sees it, it would mean he was up close and personal to her private parts.
“It’s a beautiful piece. Too bad you got it for revenge,” Lincoln said, getting up and walking away.
Lux came over to the woman. “Here you go. Now, let me explain to you about aftercare.”
Tymber looked to the back, then at Ivy. Shit, he didn’t want to leave Link in a fucked up state. They all had demons they fought. He knew more than anyone how screwed up things could get.
“I got this.” Ember stood up; his hands no longer covered in gloves. The man he’d been tattooing was shrugging into a T-shirt. “I’ll see you in about six to eight weeks for your next session, man. That tat is looking fucking bad ass.”
“You’re a genius, Ember.” He handed over some cash, walking out without looking back.
Lux held the door open for the woman and man, then she strode toward the back following Ember, leaving Tymber with Ivy.
“Well, that was quite the shitshow,” Tymber said, coming to stand between Ivy’s legs where she sat on the bed.
She looped her arms over his shoulders. “I liked seeing how you all were ready to jump in to back your friend.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in snug with his body, loving how she automatically wrapped those long legs of hers around his hips. “He’s my brother,” he said simply.
Ivy gave a little tug, bringing his head down to hers. “You’re sexy when you get all protective.” She nipped at his lips.
He groaned. “You’re sexy when you breathe.”
“Ah, you two gonna get nekkid and do it on the table? Asking for a friend,” Ember said, strolling into the room while tossing an apple in the air. He caught it in one hand, then bit into it, letting juice run down his chin.
“You’re such a voyeur,” Lux muttered.
“And?” Ember asked.
“Just pointing out an observation.” Lux moved back to her spot at the front of the store. “But, if you two are going to do it, I suggest you wipe that table down really good, you never know what might’ve spilled on there. I think Ember may have slept there...and had a naughty dream earlier.” She moved her hand up and down in a jack off motion, then made as if an explosion occurred, sound effects and all.
“I did no such thing. Take it back,” Ember hollered, his apple half eaten sticking out of his mouth making the words garbled.
“Link, was Ember snoring and moaning on Tymber’s station earlier this morning?” Lux asked.
Tymber turned to see his other best friend stop in his tracks, looking at Ember, then Lux, then him, his bottom lip getting trapped between his teeth. “Listen, I’m not one to tell a lie, so I’m just gonna go and clean up my station. I’m done for the day.”
“I rest my case.” Lux did her jackoff motion and explosion imitation again, making Ember toss the apple core toward her, before he growled fuck you.
“You sure you want me to tattoo you here? I can take my kit back to my place and do it there?” The thought of inking her where a bed was close, and no
spectators had him itching to reach for his keys.
“Alright, I’m out,” Ember announced. “Don’t mourn my leaving, I’ll see you both tomorrow or the next day. I’m sure, I’ll see you before either of you miss me.” Ember leaned over Tymber and kissed Ivy on the cheek, jumping backward to avoid Tymber punching him.
“Lock up,” Lux said, strolling out after the other two, leaving Tymber and Ivy alone.
“Fuck, I didn’t think they’d ever leave.” He ran a finger down her cheek, wiping away the trace of Ember, at least in his mind.
“Hmm, whatever shall we do now?” She leaned into his touch.
Tymber looked toward the huge front windows and the passing cars. “Hold that thought.” He went through the motions of closing up, locking the door and pulling the huge gate across, then realized her bike sat out front. “Let’s move your bike out back. We have a private entrance where we all park.”
Ivy hopped down, hurrying to move her bike around. He finished locking up, meeting her at the back door, his tattoo equipment already in the apartment, ready for him to use. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand.
The small apartment they kept wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was comfortable, fitted with the thought of big men in mind. He led Ivy through the door, engaging the security system. “Did you decide on which design you wanted?” he asked once they were settled at the dining room table.
Ivy pointed at the design that had the sugar skull incorporated with the semi-colon design. He was going to add it to the words he’d already inked onto her ribs, making it the ending to her words. Only it wasn’t the ending to her story, rather a new beginning.