“Good,” I responded too quickly. She immediately smiled, her features softening.
“I knew you were a jealous asshole,” she mused, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Will you tattoo me? I’ll pay.” Thinking of her skin beneath my hands had a tremor reaching for me. It took everything to swallow the dry air and hope it didn’t fuck with me to do this.
Unlike with random clients, Andy was Andy. As soon as our skin touched, it felt like a fucking atomic bomb went off in my chest, destroying the bunker I’d hidden in for the last five years.
“Between you and Cars, my schedule’s all but fucked,” I grumbled, only half meaning it. Her eyes bore into mine, an emotion that didn’t quite make sense settled there. I wanted to unravel it, piece by piece, until I had all the answers she hid from me.
I wanted to rip her open, see the little demon underneath the Andy skin suit.
“You’re in a suit.” It was a statement. Unless she wanted her throat tatted up, there was too much clothing between us. We always told our clients to dress comfortably, but also with easy access so we didn’t touch things or make them uneasy.
“Do you have your own room?” Unlike the others, mine was alone. Yeah, it could fit a second or even third station, but I liked my breathing room.
“Yes,” I said, not knowing where she was going with her words.
“Then I’ll be fine...”
It took me all of five seconds to catch her drift. She began taking off her suit jacket, her face impassive as ever, almost clinical. Once she removed it, she took no time to unbutton her shirt, her fingers passing over each button in apt precision. That was when she met my questioning stare with a smirk, batting her eyelashes.
“That’s against policy, little demon.”
Technically, it wasn’t. But having her so near, without her skin on mine, would feel like hell. I’d already been there for five years, spending more felt like too much somehow.
“Change the policy,” she flirted, biting her lip. “You wouldn’t want some other—”
“Absolutely fucking not. Do not finish that sentence.” Rage boiled in me. There was this unhinged part of me that couldn’t handle even the thought of her being seen, let alone touched. Which was laughable since I’d watched her get fucked on several occasions in the past.
Hell, it used to make me hot. Now, though? I’d kill anyone, no questions asked. No one touched her but me, even if I hadn’t found a way around my inability to do just that freely.
Fuck.
“Then ink me, Toland. Make me your canvas.”
My throat clenched at that, feeling dry and unable to swallow. I needed her, so fucking bad.
I led her to my seat. “Need to let them know I’ll be busy.”
“Don’t you have a lock?”
“Yeah, but they’d bust it down if I didn’t respond.”
“Why wouldn’t you—” she started and stopped, her eyes opening. She blinked a few times and nodded. I left her and went for the others. Not spotting them in their rooms, I went to the supply pantry out back, where grunts met me.
Yep, just as I suspected. Canoodling on the job.
“Hey, I’m going to be busy, so if you guys are going to keep fucking, keep your distance.”
“Shit,” Grizz grunted, his movements noticeable by the slapping sound of flesh.
“Please don’t come out. Don’t need that visual... again.”
Noah giggled while Grizz snarled, and I walked away, not sticking around to witness anything. When I twisted the knob of my room, I took a deep breath. It’d never been hard to tattoo. Something about the monotony of the action made me feel at ease. It didn’t overwhelm me but rather, it numbed me more. Gloves helped me not feel anything, especially since I tended to double glove.
Usually, I could concentrate on tatting more than anything else. It was my solace. Andy took that security away, leaving behind nerves better left nonexistent.
I closed the door behind me and spotted Andy. “Fuck.” Her eyes crinkled with amusement and it drew me to the brown depths that constantly drug me under the abyss. My hands itched, the need to press them into her skin and also glove them up to never touch her went to war for the win.
She laughed, the hearty sound filling me to the brim with ease. “Wanted to make sure there were no barriers.”
Looking at her half naked flesh, I sucked in a breath, feeling my dick twitch. It would take every ounce of strength not to become a brick. Yet, my nerves kept me standing feet away, staring like an inexperienced teenager.
“Lay back,” I demanded with a rasp, unable to constrain the gravelly sound my voice took. Even to myself, it seemed husky, like it prepared for the hard-on I was bound to keep the entire session.
She didn’t argue but laid back, making sure to show me her ass while her legs extended. It was covered, but her pants accentuated every curve and I wanted to put my mark there. Right on the cheek, my name, any ink to tell anyone who ever saw her that she was mine and only mine.
“Where are you wanting a tattoo?” I could barely form the words, my eyes and mind stuck on her almost nakedness. The bareness of her pristine skin brought an intense need. To ink her up, spread my art across her, make her my very own canvas. She had several tattoos across her body, nothing like my pathways of ink. Instead, they were gapped, like she never truly had direction but needed the escape the needle brought.
I understood the desire all too well.
“Here,” she said, removing her tit from her bra. She dragged the tip of her finger across the goosebump-laden skin, fluttering her eyes at the same time. I sucked in air, hoping it’d stop the blood from rushing south. With no such luck, I felt myself stiffen and a groan escaped me without permission.
“There?” I asked, pointing, needing reassurance. It wasn’t like her ass. A lot of people would see the ink there, especially if she wore another dress like the one at the club two weeks ago.
And fuck, knowing my mark—whether she chose it or not—would be imprinted there forever brought me so much satisfaction.
“Yes, Toland. Right here,” she explained, tapping herself. She barely covered her nipple and the need to see everything hit me square in the chest.
“I can’t,” I admitted. “Can’t concentrate.”
She smirked, as if that was the plan all along. “You can.”
Closing my eyes slowly, I allowed myself to calm my nerves and the other parts of me going crazy. “What do you want?”
“Lips.”
“Cliché,” I teased.
“It’ll be a reminder,” she admitted.
“Did you have a shape in mind?”
“I’d say yours but we both know it’d lead to things you’re not ready for.”
Shamed coated my skin. Did she notice the other night? The lack of confidence? My inability to get out of my own head?
Yeah, I wanted her something fierce but I also couldn’t bring myself to do it. Whether it had subconsciously to do with Brandon’s claim on her or something else entirely, I didn’t want to think of it. My eyes went to the ring on her finger, feeling my body turn to ice.
“I’ll brand you, Andy. But we both know it’s you that isn’t ready.”