Chapter Four – Jack
Chapter Four
Jack
I rocked back on my stool and turned around, fully prepared to tell someone to check out the flash while they waited their turn—but instead I found Bella, wearing one of her off-the-shoulder peasant dresses with sandals that laced up to her knees.
Bella the-wanna-be-witch was the only woman I slept with even less committal than I was, and some part of me loved her for that, with abidingly deep irony.
“Hey,” I said, standing up and stepping back. “Give me a minute, will you?” I told the girls, snapped my gloves into the trash, and sauntered through the saloon doors.
“Hey yourself,” Bella said as I neared, holding her arms out for me. I stepped into them and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her near. Her hair somehow always smelled like chocolate, and I remembered the taste of her skin too easily.
“How’s my aura?” I asked when we pulled back without parting.
“Black as ever, Jack.” Her eyes flashed over my shoulder at the girls behind me. “I see you’re keeping busy.”
“Gotta pay the rent. And what can I say, you haven’t been around lately.”
She shrugged one shoulder without apology. “I’m here now. And I need attention.”
I pushed one lock of her dark wavy hair back, exposing the glory of her naked neck, and inside my jeans my cock throbbed. Blood was better than sex—unless the sex was really, really, good. With Bella… “Time and place. Name it.”
“Two a.m., my house, tonight. And don’t you dare be late. My life depends on it.”
“Really?” I made sure to hide my smirk. Bella had a shop a few blocks off the strip, a devoted clientele, and she really did believe she was psychic. I made the mistake of letting her read my palm once—saying she was intense was an understatement, which was probably why the sex was so hot.
“Really. That gives you plenty of time to finish up here.” Her hand sank between us and rubbed at me through the denim. “Just make sure you save some for me, okay?”
“Always.”
She took a step back and whirled, my audience over, and walked straight back out Dark Ink’s doors.
I watched her go, because how could I not, hoping my hard-on would subside. When it didn’t, I gave up and walked back to the girls I’d abandoned and sat down. Work would straighten me out, like always.
“Sorry about that,” I said while pulling on fresh gloves.
“Girlfriend?” the brunette asked.
“It’s complicated.”
“Oh,” said the blonde, daring a glance below my belt.
Precisely. “You ready?” I asked both of them, since the blonde’s tattoo seemed like a team sport.
“Yeah,” Brunette answered, and took the Blonde’s hand. “Come on, Karm—you can do this.”
Bolstered by the brunette’s encouragement, the blonde chimed back, “Yeah—I can.” Except for when I set my gun hand on her she let out a high pitched shriek—and once I pressed the pedal and the gun started roaring, so did she.
Consent paperwork be damned, anyone that walked into the shop right now would think I was killing someone.
I knew first-hand what that sounded like.
I rocked off the pedal, staring at the blonde over the plane of her pale stomach, meeting eyes briefly with her best friend, before looking at her again.
“Look, can you take this? I don’t want half-finished flash out there with my name on it.”
Blonde Karm—short for the Karma I’d seen on her license, which I’d copied to prove her age—nodded vigorously.
She wanted it too. And I wanted money. But unless she’d let me actually tattoo her, we were at an impasse.
I could use my whammy—it was the Jedi mind-trick vampires had that got people to do things for them, like open doors and invite them in—but it wasn’t very strong or useful yet—not like my Mistress’s.
It’d gotten Angela an extra hundred bucks for her touch-up, earlier, but I’d seen the way that MMA fighter was also looking at her ass—I’d just charged him an ass-tax was all.
But using it to get someone to sit still for a tattoo that I wasn’t sure they were really into wasn’t worthwhile.
“Why do you want it? What are you commemorating anyhow?”
Karma pushed herself up on her elbows. “I just—wanted to prove that I was here, you know? It’s my first time out of ‘Bama.”
I knew I knew that accent. And I knew all about how easy it was to get stuck in the south—and how hard it was to leave behind, no matter how hard you tried.
“I might not get to make this trip again,” she went on, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes. “I want to make it special.”
And there it was. Everyone who came to Vegas was looking for the same thing—to go home with a good story.
I sat there quietly for a moment, lips smugly curved, looking from one to the other of them.
I could feel the tension building between us, almost thick enough to feed off of.
“If you don’t want to get a tattoo, I can think of several other things to do that you’ll remember forever instead,” I said, offering everything they thought I was.
Karma’s lips parted as she inhaled a gasp, then her eyes darted to the brunette, as if asking permission. The brunette’s eyes flickered over me and she subtly nodded, and then Karma nodded too, more strongly.
“All right then,” I purred, and made it my mission to get Karma to scream again.
I raised the chair she was in to be head height to my stool, and wheeled myself up between her legs.
I pushed the paper away, and pulled the cotton line of her panties to one side.
I could feel her eyes on me, both of them scared but entranced.
“You’re—you’re going straight down there?” Karma whispered. Her hair was trimmed in a neat landing strip—what a shame that someone who groomed themselves so neatly couldn’t call it pussy.
“I am,” I said. “And she’s going to start kissing you.”
Karma looked to her friend, whose name I didn’t know. The brunette blinked once, twice, and laughed a little nervously, but then leaned in and tried. Their lips mismatched, they both laughed, and then tried again, this time with better outcome, as I watched Karma’s breasts heave.
I didn’t need to whammy them, they just needed a little orchestration—it was likely the first time they’d done this sort of thing, much less together.
Wanting to do my part for the tourism industry, I put a warning hand on the inside of both of Karma’s soft-skinned thighs and then lowered my mouth down.
Karma was wet, she was warm, and I slid my tongue between her folds just tasting her as she moaned into the brunette’s mouth.
The brunette slid a hand under Karm’s shirt and underneath her bra, and I could see her kneading Karm’s breasts while I licked up toward her mound.
I was warming her up, kissing everything, rubbing in with my lips and chin, I wanted her to know that I was here, and I was into her, and then I opened my mouth wide to suck on her clit, that way that women liked, that most men never learned.
She started to make high pitched sounds between kisses, and I saw the brunette’s hand find her nipple and pinch, and then Karm’s hand was reaching out between them until it found a home between the brunette’s thighs—she rose up from kissing, panting, pulling her own skirt up and her underwear down so that she could stand with her legs wide enough to give Karma’s hand room.
I sucked on Karma’s clit, rolling it under my tongue, rocking my head forward to give my gloved hand space to rise.
I put two fingers into the warmth of her vagina, but didn’t press them in—instead I pulled down, so she would feel stretched and empty and yearning.
Karma rolled between our attentions, her free hand clenching onto my tattoo chair’s side, her hips rocking beneath my ministrations, the brunette pushing Karma’s shirt and bra up at last to kiss Karma’s perfect breasts.
“Oh my God, y’all—oh my God!” Karma shouted, and I felt her tense, her thighs trapping my head, as I kept sucking, and then I slid my fingers in and—“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” she kept shouting as her orgasm shuddered though her, up and down, her hips spasming, her stomach pumping, her breasts bouncing with the force of it, until she finally sagged back with a final whispered, “Oh my God.”
Her thighs relented and I pushed back, my face covered in her juices, eyes blurred with a contact high. I fed better when I did more fucking, but life was life, and she had come hard, giving everything to me.
The brunette stood, panting, her legs still tight around Karma’s hand, and cast darkly inviting eyes my way.
I slowly stood. There was no way she couldn’t see my hard-on straining against the denim of my jeans. “Do you want a story too?” I asked, my voice like gravel and full of promise. She reached for my belt buckle without answering.
She—she knew what was going on. She’d done this before—I could tell—from the way she rubbed at my cock with her hand through the fabric of my jeans, then after she’d unzipped the fly, the way she reached in to feel it again, as though weighing it, comparing it to some unmatched part of herself.
I groaned until she undid the top button and let my cock fall out, aching.
If I’d known her better—or at all—I would have run my hands into her hair and brought her head lower—I wanted to feel her soft red lips wrap around my shaft as I slid into her mouth and down her throat—but as it was I had to wait till she got there herself.
She knelt slowly, stroking me, until her lips were at height and—she looked up, and licked them, then parted for me, taking the head of my cock into her perfect little mouth, and beginning to work her way higher.