He’s leaning against the sink, looking at me with hunger in his eyes.
“Would you like a drink?” I offer the bottle, holding it out to him. He has to know I’m so horny I can't think straight, and I can’t stand being this close to him right now.
“No. I’m good.” He pushes off the sink and takes a step forward. I’d take a step back, but the wall is right there.
“Why are you here?” I ask him.
“You know why.” I do, but I lie.
“No, I don’t.”
He walks over and pushes me up against the wall, cornering me. His sweaty body is inches away from mine. My chest feels tight.
A feeling of déjà vu sweeps through me.
“You owe me.”
His eyes seem to say, ‘You won’t be escaping this time.’ His hand grabs my hip. Not a single part of me even thinks about pushing him away.
“Owe you what?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“This.”
He kisses me, and my body comes alive with electricity. Everywhere he touches me sends sparks of desire straight to my core. I groan and lean into him. He can have me, right here. Right now.
No, Maddy! You have to stop!
I don’t know how I do it, but I summon the will to shove him away. “Get out!” I gasp, stabbing a finger at the door. I’m shaking all over. Just a few seconds more and I would have been ready to have this man’s babies.
Frustration flashes across Zane’s eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. “If that’s what you want,” he says.
It’s not what I want. I want him to take me right there and fuck my brains out. Zane knows it, too. My heavy breathing says it all. I’m barely in control of myself.
I can’t let him do this.
“Yes,” I say weakly. “Go, please.”
It’s for my own good.
“Fine.” He opens the door, but turns to give me a cocky grin as he says, “But I know you’re lying.”
When he's gone, I slump down against the wall.
“Oh Maddy, what have you gotten yourself into?” I whisper to myself.
Chapter 6
Zane
I pull up to the shop with a huge ass grin on my face.
I fucking love how much I shocked her. That flush I saw on her cheeks makes my dick jump in my pants. I can imagine that blush on her chest, rising up to her cheeks as I pound her tight little pussy. Fuck, I want that. I groan as my dick hardens and my balls fucking hurt. I need a release. This broad has me so worked up.
Peaches. My sweet Georgia Peach. I’m definitely getting her under me. I don’t give a fuck how hard she pushes me away. She wants me, and I want her.
I almost had her in her kitchen. I’m surprised she let it get that far. She’s definitely losing her will to fight this. I’m enjoying it though, breaking down her walls.
I’ll have to wait and play this right. I wasn’t sure if she was really that sweet innocent thing I thought she was pretending to be at the bar. But she is. A little uptight, too. Which makes it all the more challenging.
“Yo, Needles!” My partner in crime turns around at the desk when I come in.
He’s young. Just turned twenty-two last week, which was a fucking fabulous night out. He doesn’t look it though. He’s got pale blond hair and a patchy beard that looks like he’s going through puberty.
Poor bastard. The clean-shaven look only makes him look that much younger. He tatted himself up pretty good to add some age to him. He did a shit job on his left arm though. That’s how we met. He had to come to a professional to fix it up.
Ever since then it’s been the two of us running this place. There are a few other artists working out of our shop. But we’re the only ones here open to close, and we’re the reason the shop is so well-known.
At first Vlad didn’t like it. It’s not good to be in the spotlight. But then he saw it as the perfect opportunity to launder some big accounts through here. I don’t know how big, and I don’t ask questions.
I set my keys on the counter and take a look around. The place is everything I ever wanted. The entrance is spacious and open with floor to ceiling windows, and a large granite-topped counter in the center. The back wall is lined with art we’ve done. There are four sofas, two on each side, and a coffee table in between the two sets. Photo albums of what we’ve done in the past sit on the table.
Two hallways lead to a total of eight rooms in the back. We're always comfortable while we're working since the other five artists helped decorate our rooms exactly how Needles and I wanted. Room six is our stockroom, and the last two are for the mob. They’re always locked, and I haven’t even looked in them for nearly a year. I like to forget Vlad has his hands in my shop. Some days I don’t even notice when the Koranav come in and out. For the most part, we ignore them, and they ignore us.
It makes it easy for us both, and that’s the way I like it.
It feels like home in here. I fucking love this place.
“What’s going on?” he asks, turning from organizing a station cart. We’ve got all sorts of products for aftercare that the customers can buy.
He looks back over his shoulder and then does a double take. “What's going on? Why the hell are you so fucking chipper?” he asks with a grin.
“What? I can’t be happy?”
“At eight in the morning? No. You’re a real unpleasant fucker this early.”
I laugh at him and take a seat at the counter. “Met a girl who keeps pushing me away.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s smart.” He stands up and takes a last look at everything he’s refilled. Looks good to me. I trust Needles to handle this shit. He can handle the business aspect of things.
“You take a look at your first client?” he asks and I know why, too.
“Yeah, gonna be fucking boring, but I got something fun planned later on.” My first client needs a touch-up and his ink refreshed. It’s fading and looking an ugly shade of green as a result. It sucks because it’s mindless work, just coloring in what someone else has done. I’m gonna do some fading on it though. I’ll give it a professional touch, but it’s still mindless.
I hate doing those jobs almost as much as those damn anchor and butterfly tattoos. Nothing’s worse than when a young girl comes in and picks a generic tat out of a book, something that I’ve done a thousand times. I could draw them with my eyes closed at this point.
If only I could get my hands on peaches. I bite down on the inside of my cheek thinking about how fucking smooth her skin was. I wanna press my lips against her neck and kiss down her collarbone. Farther. I’d kiss down her breasts. I know just how they’d feel in my hands.
I could put something there for her, something on the underside of her plush tits. Maybe have it travel down her side. Fuck, she’d be so fucking sexy with a touch of ink. She’s got a beautiful sun-kissed tan. She’d look even more beautiful with my art on her. Not that she isn’t already gorgeous.
But she’s a good girl. I bet if she has anything on her body it’s just some sweet little butterfly on her shoulder. And I didn’t see a damn thing on her shoulder. Her tight body's just the perfect canvas for my art.