“Oh shit!” She goes off like a fucking firecracker, her legs shaking as she comes, sprawled between me and the passenger seat. “Oh God.”
When Kimberly comes, it’s a fucking work of art, so I’m not surprised when my dick twitches despite just having had an explosive orgasm.
“The shit you make me do,” I whisper, sucking on my fingers, driven by the need to taste her. “You make me lose my fucking mind.”
“Ditto,” she whispers breathlessly. But it’s the way she offers me her lips silently that makes my fucking chest explode.
I grab her chin, then lean down and kiss her.
We kiss like there’s no tomorrow, like this is where it all ends. And maybe this is where it ends, who knows?
“Noah,” she pants, pulling back to look at me with our foreheads pressed.
“Baby,” I groan, feeling the intense vulnerability of the moment.
“I…” but the sudden knock at my window cuts her off.
When I look out the damn window, ready to verbally assault whoever it is, I see Emmett standing there with a scowl.
“Now, how do you go from fighting like fucking wrestlers to wanting to jump each other’s bones in the fucking parking lot?” he shouts. “Get a fucking room.”
A scandalized look crosses Kim’s face and she hurries to move away, straitening herself.
“Oh God,” she gasps. “I almost lost my mind. At this point I think we have a car fetish.”
I smirk.
I want her to lose her fucking mind. I want her to go wild with me and I know she will. She starts fixing her shirt, but I can’t help reaching over and pinching the hardened peaks of her nipples, loving the way she moans when I twist them both.
“Noah!” she gasps.
“I’ll be sucking on those,” I mutter, wanting to so fucking bad, I’m actually in pain. “But first, let’s get you that tattoo, my elusive Butterfly.”
Her beautiful face pales then she looks up at the store where Emmett disappeared into.
“I…”
“No.” I shake my head, trying hard not to laugh. “Remember that bet we had? Yeah, well it extends to spending the day with me, baby. There are no outs.”
“I don’t know how long this will take and besides, my sisters…”
“I already talked to Emmett, and he talked to Ivy who then talked to sweet Marie. Mr. Houghton will pick them up from school and drop them off with Marie, and it’s Saturday tomorrow, so there’s that.”
That surprises her.
“What?” I demand.
“I just… I didn’t think anyone would care for my sisters until I met all of you.”
“Yeah, well I can’t believe you kept those precious beauties from me.”
She looks away then. “It’s just, I didn’t want them to love you too and then you…”
“Leave them because of the lies you told?” I bite out, not giving her slack in the least. She needs to hear the fucking truth always. “Yeah, well, we’re going to the mall to get friendship bracelets.”
“I think they want you to actually make them together, not some store-bought shit.”
“Well, I was going to take them to Tiffany’s.”
When she throws her head back, letting loose a sweet, melodic laugh, I swear I could sit here all day and listen to the way her laughter sounds, like warm water washing over all the dried and chapped parts of my soul.
“I don’t doubt it,” she says, shaking her head. But I can see there’s a bit of hurt in that smile. Like she’s beating herself down for not getting those kind of gifts for her sisters herself. Before I can stop them, the words fly right out of my mouth.
“Maybe we can throw Lolo an after-party.”
My stunning, deceptive liar looks at me with a small smirk on her beautiful face. “Lolo, huh?”
“Hey, that’s how she introduced herself to me.” I don’t mention what I did earlier today, but I suspect Kim and her sisters are pretty close so when she finds out, I need to have a good iron shield. “And stop trying to get out of this. You’re getting this tattoo.”
“I mean… it’s like hundreds of tiny needles on my skin!”
“Yeah, well, if you’ve just suddenly developed some strange OCD complex, then we’ll ask how many needles are in a round.”
“And how do we know if they are sanitary? Do they even keep the place clean?”
“It’s Emmett’s tattoo parlor.” I deadpan, knowing that says everything she needs to know.
“Oh? Then I’m good.”
She slips into her gangster mask so effortlessly, I just blink, watching as she gets out of the car, shoots me a sexy wink, and then strides over to the front door with an extra sway to her step that makes her ass look so fucking fuckable.
“Damn.”
* * *
“So, what’s it going to be? I’m tired of the two of you,” Emmett mutters, from his chair, watching Kim and Ivy—yeah, Ivy showed up some time ago. The girls ventured to the back storage of Emmett’s undiscovered shop and came back with lit joints and now, I’m pretty sure they’re both on their way to high Heaven.
“What about a tiger?” Ivy asks.
“A tiger? Ohh, that’s fierce!” Kim cheers. “You are fierce!”
“I know, right?!”
Emmett glances at me, looking extra exasperated today. I silently offer him my Jack Daniels and fucking surprise, he actually accepts it this time.
“Well then.”
“Make them stop,” he mutters.
“I’m not stepping into that.”
“Well, then at least separate them and then when they finally make up their minds, they can come back and not waste my fucking time.”
“Absolutely not. As it is, I caught Kimmy on a rare fucking day. She’s scared.”
“Hey, I’m not scared!” Kim says from across the room.
“Then what’s the hold up, Kimberly?” Emmett demands. “Because if you don’t choose right now, I’m leaving.”
“Then who will do my tattoo that I got sucker punched into getting?” Kim pouts.
“The jerk who sucker punched you can do it,” Emmett says with a shrug. I could’ve hit his head with the side of this damn bottle.
Kim’s eyes land on me. She doesn’t look like she’s high at all. She walks over to where I sit and then tilts her head at me.
“You can do tattoos?” she asks so softly, I swear the ice in me shatters.
“He’s lying,” I grit out.
“Emmett doesn’t strike me like the kind to waste words,” she says with a curious look on her face.
“He does when he wants to piss me off.” I shoot the jerk a look that he completely ignores.
“I want you to do it.”
“Kim…”
“Please,” she whispers. “You can do anything that you want.”
Now see, she knows not to dangle juicy ass carrots in front of me. When I bite, I bite hard.
“If you want me to do it, then I choose the design and I choose the location.”
“Done,” she breathes. “So long as you get the same one where I choose.”
Ah fuck.
I go wild with fucking need when she says that. I already have the perfect design in mind, one I’d been planning on getting myself.
“When you put it like that,” I mutter, wanting to kiss her, but we have an audience that’s tense and trying not to look at each other. Little fools. “Go sit on the chair and take your fucking shirt off.”
“Well, on that cue, I’m out,” Emmett says, getting up. “I trust you know how to fucking keep a store standing and leave it without setting it on fire?”
“Fuck you, Em,” I mumble but he ignores me all together.
“Are you coming, Angel?” he questions.
Angel?
Kim and I stare at Emmett, but the asshole only has eyes for the one and only Ivy.
“Man…” I start but the look he gives me silences me.
I don’t know if Spider will appreciate this, but
well, go ahead though.
“Yes,” Ivy says all excited and wired as she bounces over to the huge god. The contrast is not lost on me. “Can we go eat first?”
“Anything.”
Anything?
Is this Emmett Easton, the god of nothing, or is he the god of whatever the hell he’s doing that’s going to get him killed by Spider?
Within a few seconds, Ivy grabs Emmett’s hand and they leave, about fucking time too.
“She’s going to regret that in the morning,” Kim mutters, looking after them. I walk over to the design table and pick up what I left here the last time I was in here with Emmett and King.
“Are you talking about Ivy or yourself?”
“Does it matter?” she whispers, looking at me. “We both seem to be doomed either way.”
I don’t have any words for that, so I grab the tattoo gun and all the shit I need.
“Turn over onto your front, Butterfly, and let me mark you.”
Chapter 27
KIM
I don’t think anyone can blame me for the violent shudder that courses through me at those words but when he asks me to turn over, fear grips me by the throat.
“I don’t think I can…”
Noah walks over to me, and then silently reaches for my lace top and slowly starts removing it. Feeling hypnotized by his intense and turbulent stare, I lift my arms and just… let him.
Then he does something I wasn’t expecting at all, he kisses both my shoulders, my neck, then he massages my sensitive breasts, slowly but with an intent to arouse, to soothe, to let me know that he understands my fear but won’t let me give in to it.
Before I know it, I’m melting in his arms, small whimpers and moans escaping my lips. He occasionally kisses any part of me that he can, then gentle but sure hands are on either side of my hips as he helps me turn over.
“You’re beautiful,” he says with a deep timbre to his voice, thickened by lust. “Every inch of you.”
I want to protest because I know what he’s currently looking at… it all brings back to mind the person who also did this to me.
The heaviness comes back to my chest in just a second.
My throat burns with tears but I do my best to try and hold them in, knowing that if I cry, Noah will ask.
If he does ask, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep the big revelation I had today to myself.
“Why do you hate these scars?” Noah asks. I can feel him moving around, but I just face the animated floor—which I think was designed for people who lie on their stomach as they get drawn up with permanent ink.
“What’s there to love?” I whisper hoarsely.
“Your survival,” Noah says simply, not sugarcoating anything for the sake of my ears. “These are little tally marks, showing me how you still managed to get up and fight for your life, your sanity, and for your family. So, what’s not to love, Butterfly?”
Whenever he calls me that term of endearment, a part of my soul seems to melt into a pool of vulnerability and want. A want only he can answer and appease.
“So you got cuts and you bled, but here you are,” he goes on in that tone that liquify my charred bones. “Some people get just the barest of cuts and they’re on the fucking floor, refusing to get up, giving in to a small fucking fight.”
Tears sting my eyes. I wasn’t expecting this to take an emotional turn, especially after the morning we just had.
“Stop,” I whisper brokenly. “You’re making a mess out of me.”
“Good,” he purrs darkly. “I was fucking wondering when you’re going to be fucking real with me.”
“You…” I start, the confession falling from my lips like honey with traces of lemon. “You are my real, Noah.”
“I better be,” he says in my ear. “This is sacred… another something that will be just for you and me.”
And with that, he grabs a small remote and then music starts playing over the speakers. I think it’s ‘I Fall Apart’ by Post Malone but I’m not too sure.
Then my sexy Blue Fairy with his bruised knuckles from beating up his father, goes to work tattooing my back with a design only he knows. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt because it does, but I lie still, feeling Noah’s hot breath washing over my back.
The moment feels raw, all-consuming and a bit surreal. Just this morning, I had snuck into his room and dyed his hair green while he slept—fitfully—and now, we’re confessing or maybe we’re lying to each other. I’m going to hold to the former.
“Why did you beat him like that?” I ask after some time of crackling silence, my voice low.
“He fucking deserved it,” Noah grits out. “No one talks about my mother like that, and frankly, I don’t much care for people who threaten what’s mine and you, Butterfly in all your mess that you’re still going to atone for, you’re fucking mine.”
I could feel the tug in my chest, igniting the flames he started in his car. It feels like a slow gut wrenching that starts at the pit of my stomach heightened by his touch on my back.
Some nerves were desensitized while others were a bit more enhanced in a way that made extremes difficult for me. I showered with lukewarm water, nothing too hot and definitely not too cold so as not to antagonize my scars. But Noah’s touch is different—it’s always been that way—and now I’m slowly starting to lose my damn mind.
“Are you almost done?” I whisper.
“Shh, I need to do this right.”
“Can I use your phone to text Spider about something?”
Wordlessly, Noah passes me his phone and I shoot the text, noticing how the two don’t text. Actually, the only text chat he has on his phone… is with me.
“You don’t text anyone?”
“I don’t have time for it,” he grits out.
My heart goes up in flames, but I don’t say anything.
I leave him to work, wincing occasionally but I can tell he is putting in so much care with his work. At some point though, he passes me a bottle of Jack and tells me to scream if I have to. I don’t understand why until he changes the gun thingy and comes back to a new spot.
We pass the bottle back and forth, the only sounds coming from the tattoo gun and the perfectly hidden speakers in the parlor.
Who would’ve thought that Noah actually loves silence? I mean, I guessed that he liked to be alone at times; but right now, he’s totally present, allowing his demons and mine to linger in the room with us without fighting them, content to just… be.
“I’m done,” Noah announces after God only knows how many hours.
I’m dying to see what it looks like, but instead, he does some after care shit then wraps it up.
“Am I not allowed to see it now?” I demand.
“Not until I get mine.”
“And when will that be?”
“When Emmett finishes playing hide and seek with Ivy.”
I can’t help but laugh at that, feeling slightly intoxicated by this easy vibe we have going on between us.
I turn over onto my back, wanting to see his face fully. I don’t give a damn that I’m literally half naked with a short skirt and killer heels. I just want to see his face… and be nosy.
“I’m drunk,” I whisper like I’m sharing a secret, a lopsided smile on my face.
“I know,” he says with a patient look.
“Why aren’t you drunk?”
“It takes more than just a fucking bottle to get me there.”
“No, I mean why do you drink… so much?”
“Kimberly,” he warns darkly.
“We don’t lie to each other. We don’t keep secrets. Why do you drink so much, Noah?”
He watches me for a while. “Don’t you have a secret you’re keeping from me right now?”
I think of his father and what he did to me ten years ago, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to hurt him like that. Not when there’s enmity between him and his father already.
Some burdens are just meant to be shoulder
ed by the one who incurred the wrath and pain.
“You know what,” I whisper. “You don’t have to answer that. Let’s go.”
I hop off the table thingy and reach for my shirt.
“Where the fuck are we going?”
“To cause a bit of mischief.”
* * *
It’s around 10p.m. when we stop at a gas station and I run in to buy some accelerant, firecrackers, a Zippo and some more alcohol for the road.
I don’t tell Noah the plan, but as soon as he sees the shit in the bag, the smile on his face makes my heart stop.
“Do we have a target in mind?”
“Yup,” I burp. “I’m just waiting for the address.”
And like he’s a genie, Spider sends through the addy I’ve been waiting for on Noah’s phone. Noah doesn’t say a word, he just drives. Within ten minutes, we’re driving down the affluent neighborhood with one singular mission.
We spot the house at the end of the street. It’s not as big as the mansion where he used to live, but what else would you expect from someone who left all his wealth after the horrible shit he did to his family?
Just as I’m about to get out of the car, Noah grabs my chin, staring into my soul like he always does.
“Tell me why the fuck you want to do this?” he demands.
“Well, because I don’t much care for anyone who threatens what’s mine.” I can’t resist kissing him, so I do.
We’ve been fighting the sexual hunger for hours now, but for now, we have work to do.
I jump out of the car, still wearing my heels because fuck, who said you can’t set shit on fire in the right pair?
Noah grabs some gasoline that I didn’t even know he had and then we sneak onto the premises and head straight to the Tesla in the driveway. It doesn’t take long to douse it in gasoline, and it certainly doesn’t take long for the firecrackers to light up.
And because Noah doesn’t give a shit, he spray paints a huge skull with a dick under it on the front doors of the house, rings the bell then he runs back to where I stand, puts the firecrackers under the car, grabs my hand and we run back to the car, laughing our hearts out.
When the car blows up, we’re in the car driving away, but I catch Noah glancing in the rearview mirror, his jaw clenched. When I look back, I see David standing there, his jaw dropped in shock as his car burns.
Petty Rage: Westbrook Blues Book 4 Page 32