Chapter 16 Sebastian
Sebastian
Despite the wet, rainy spring we had been having, business was finally starting to turn around.
Bills were getting paid, groceries were stocked, and I even had enough extra to pay Luke back on some funds he had loaned me.
He tried not to accept it, but that wasn’t how I rolled.
I needed to pay him back, even if it was only for my own conscience.
Movement in front of my shop caught my attention.
I closed out of my banking app and went to see what was going on.
Lydia was crouched low, almost sitting on the ground, with her camera in her hand.
She wore an oversized sweater over a pair of shorts that were riding up her thighs in that weird position she was in.
A peek of her upper thigh tattoo was visible, pulling my gaze.
“What are you doing?”
“I realized we didn’t have any good shots of the exterior,” she explained.
“So why not just take a picture? Why do you have to get on the fucking ground for it?” I reached my hand out to help her to her feet. Her soft palm glided over mine, and a tingle of awareness swept through me.
She stood, brushing the loose gravel off her legs and butt.
“Look. This is why.” She showed me the shots she had just taken, the sun partly blocked by the edge of the roof, the angle making the storefront appear grander than it was.
She moved back a few images, and I could clearly see the difference the angles made in the outcome of the photos.
“Okay, you have a point. The other ones are better,” I told her.
“Stand over there,” she demanded, pointing at the brick siding.
“You’re awfully bossy, little wild,” I chided playfully. “What, am I supposed to pose or something?” I curled my biceps in a classic strongman pose. That got a laugh from her, and she actually snapped a picture of it. I tried a few other poses until she glared at me over the top of her camera.
In the end, I stood stock-still with my arms crossed, resting against the wall, while she moved up and down the street, capturing pictures from various angles.
I tried to keep the smile off my face as I watched her in her element.
In the past four months, Lydia had gone from snappy and guarded to this happy, creative version of herself—albeit with attitude. She was still Lydia Wilder, after all.
After my half-day session with Anthony from Millie’s Pizza, I cleaned my station and hit the bathroom. When I came back, Lydia had set herself up in my tattoo chair, lounging on it like she was Cleopatra.
“Don’t let this go to your head,” she started, her lips pulled into a tight line like she was trying not to smile.
I was already grinning before she had a chance to get to the point.
“But that piece came out fantastic. Anthony was pumped. Did you see his face as he was checking out his arm from every angle?”
“Yeah. That’s probably my favorite part of tattooing.
Watching their reaction when they finally get to see it completed.
You want me to put some ink on you?” I asked, shooting her a wink.
Out of the blue, I desperately wanted to put my mark on Lydia.
She had some work already. Other people’s art that she could look at every day.
She chewed her bottom lip. She was contemplating it; I could see it in her eyes.
“We can get matching roommate tattoos,” I pushed with a smirk. “What do you say?”
A strange look passed across her face; any playfulness from a moment ago was gone. “That’s a hard pass. I already have one matching tattoo that I have to see every day. I’m not making that mistake again.”
“Ah. Secret tattoo number four,” I said, my gaze zeroing in on that spot on her leg. “So, there is a story there.”
“Just a mistake.”
“Nah, I don’t believe that. Getting the Chinese symbol for water when you think it means happiness or a tribal band around your arm, those are mistakes.”
She looked away from me, apparently in no mood to chat. It was past 10:00 p.m. now, the light from inside contrasting with the darkness outside making it impossible to see out the large front windows. Through the reflection on the glass, I could see Lydia tracking me across the space to lock up.
“I hate it.”
I nearly tripped over my own feet when she spoke, the venom in her voice holding a weight I wasn’t prepared for. I set the lock in place and tried to control my already elevated heart rate with my hand on the door.
“Why do you hate it?”
She didn’t hesitate before answering. Her words came out fast and raw. “Because it ties to me him. To the person I was when I was with him.”
“The guy you left when you came home?”
My heart rate couldn’t be quieted. I knew she had some history there. Luke had alluded to it a while back, but even if he didn’t, I could see it written all over her face.
“Blake. Yeah.” Her quiet voice carried across the open space.
I turned around needing to get eyes on her. Lydia had pulled the leg of her shorts up and was glaring at her tattoo.
My feet took me over to her without thinking. I held her chin in my hand and nudged her face to mine.
“You don’t need to keep it.”
She shrugged, a defeated look in her eyes that I absolutely hated.
“What would you want there instead of that?” I asked.
“Anything,” she huffed.
“Let me draw you something for a cover-up.” I swiped my thumb across her soft skin as I analyzed the design. I needed to know what I was working with in order to properly work a new design over it that looked intentional.
Fuck. I really wanted to cover up this asshole’s claim on her body. I didn’t even know her story, but I knew he was the reason she’d fled home. I knew that this tattoo meant something to her, and it wasn’t anything good.
“What would you put there?” she asked. Her vivid green eyes met mine, and my heart skipped a beat.
“I have a couple of ideas,” I started.
“No. No, don’t tell me. Just do it.”
“What? Right now?”
Her fingers quickly unbuttoned her denim shorts. “You got something better to do tonight?” Her challenging remark sent arousal coursing through my blood. “I want it gone, Seb. Just cover it up with anything. I don’t care what it looks like.”
If I ever got the chance to meet this dude, my fist would be doing all the talking. But first things first, Lydia was undressing in my chair, and she needed to be my sole focus right now.
A single head nod was my only indication that I was game. I washed my hands and grabbed a pair of black disposable gloves. When I turned back around, Lydia was sitting in my chair in her oversized sweater and underwear.
Fuck. She looked good like that. Ready and waiting for me to put my mark on her.
I kicked my rolling stool up to the chair and took a seat by her knees.
“No requests? You’re just going to let me have my way with you?” My voice was rougher than usual. Her soft body laid out before me was messing with me in a way I never experienced while tattooing.
People liked to get all manners of their bodies inked. I had seen the most intimate parts of people and had never waver in my professionalism. Lydia managed to challenge that, and we hadn’t even started yet.
“Nope. Do your worst,” she smirked.
I trailed my fingers over her tattoo, getting an idea on what I could do for her. Goose bumps pebbled under my touch, and she fidgeted in her seat.
“Relax, little wild. I’ve got you.”
What I meant was that I would give her something she would love, but hearing it out loud it sounded like I meant something more. Maybe I did.
I got my equipment set up and snapped the gloves over my hands.
The buzzing sound of my machine relaxed me as I placed the pen-like tip to her inner thigh. I didn’t want to take my eyes off my work, but I couldn’t help but glance at Lydia to make sure she was good. Our eyes met. The buzz I felt through my body was from more than just the instrument in my hand.
Focusing on my task, I smiled as the image of what I wanted to create formed in my head.
Lydia sat with her knee bent and her thigh propped open for me as I wiped the cloth across her skin periodically, cleaning up the excess ink and any bleeding.
I could feel her eyes on me every once in a while, but more often than not, she lay back on the chair with her arm under her head.
Her strength, her resiliency, her fiery attitude—they were all parts of her that I admired like hell.
We worked in a comfortable silence. Every time I had to ink along the crease of her groin, it was making it harder and harder to concentrate.
I leaned over her leg, and the scent of her sex went straight to my dick.
Over an hour went by with my face nearly buried in her.
My professionalism was definitely in jeopardy in a way I had never experienced.
I tried to think of her as any other client.
Or worse, as my best friend’s little sister.
Not someone I should be fantasizing about like I was.
I was supposed to be taking care of Lydia. Watching out for her. Helping her get on her feet. Luke was trusting me not to go there with her. I breathed in her scent again.
“Do you need a break?” I asked.
“No, keep going.”
I put my machine down anyway. I was hoping she was going to say yes, but really, it was me who needed a minute.
“Is everything alright?” she asked.
I sat up straight on my stool and took a deep breath. My first breath without her scent tickling my nose.
“Yeah.”
She looked down her body to me. “Did you mess up and you’re trying to figure out how to tell me?”
I lowered my brows, my eyes narrowing back at her. “No. I don’t mess up on body art.”
“Well then, why’d you stop?”
“Fuck, Lydia. Because my nose is basically in your sweet pussy, and it’s all I can smell. I never did get a chance to taste you, and now it’s all I can think about,” I groaned. My dick was uncomfortably trying to join the conversation.
Sick kids. My grandma naked. Those sad animal adoption commercials.
I tried to think of anything that would take this boner down.
“Well, figure out how to work with a hard-on, Seb. I don’t have all night.
” The smirk she sent me should have irritated me, but it didn’t.
She was gloating. But fuck, I’d listen to her gloat all day while I marked up her skin with my ink, the scent of her pussy infiltrating my senses.
“I’m taking a bathroom break,” I grumbled, pushing myself away from the station.
“Make sure you wash your hands when you’re done,” she taunted.
I stalked away from her to do my business and get my raging hormones under control.
There was something about that woman that seeped into my bones like no one else.
It had been that way since she was eighteen, and no amount of fucking around—as fun as it had been—had ever come close to affecting me like her.
“What do you think so far?” I asked, coming back into the shop with only a semi instead of a full-on erection. Small wins.
“I didn’t look. I want to wait until it’s done.”
I laughed, shaking my head at her in disbelief. “You’re putting permanent art on your body and you’re not even curious about what I’m doing to you?”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t curious, but I don’t want to see something half-done and start making judgments,” she said, her head cocking to the side.
“Okay then. You ready to keep going?”
“I wasn’t the one that needed to stop, remember?”
So fucking sassy.
I worked for another thirty minutes, finishing up my design, adding the shading and a few pops of color in yellows and oranges. The final result was cool as shit, and it reminded me of her. I wiped the last of the ink and blood off her thigh and applied the tattoo ointment over the area.
“Okay. It’s done.”
She shot me an excited look before taking a deep breath. She looked down at her tattoo, and her jaw dropped.
“Get up. Come here,” I told her, extending my hand to her. “Check it out in the mirror.”
Unfamiliar nerves rolled around my insides. I knew it was a badass image, but what if she hated it?
She took my hand and got to her feet. Her eyes shined as she looked in the mirror, twisting her leg this way and that way.
“Seb,” she started. Her eyes misted, and she swallowed roughly, glancing at me standing behind her. “It’s a fucking lion.”
“It’s a lioness. They’re the ones that are really in charge. Their strength, their courage, their independence—they’re you. I thought it would be fitting. What do you think?”
She spun around and threw herself into my arms.
“I’m not going to cry because that would be dumb,” she said through a strained voice. I laughed, stroking her hair as she burrowed into my chest.
“You can cry. I’ll only tell everyone that I meet that I was able to make Lydia cry, and it wasn’t because she was overwhelmed with how much she hated me.”
Her small hand swatted at my chest. Before she could pull it away, I captured it, holding it to my heart, my other hand still holding her close to me.
“You’re not connected to him, Lydia. You’ll never have to look at that and be reminded of him again. Every time you look at that, I want you to think…”
“Of you?” she mumbled into my shirt with a laugh.
“Obviously,” I smirked. “But what I was going to say was that I want you think about how strong you are. You’re a lioness, little wild. Embrace it.”
Lydia pulled back. Desire swirled in her eyes as her gaze held me hostage. Her mouth parted, and her tongue wet her lips. I leaned down just as she pressed to her tiptoes. Before our lips could touch, she turned her head just slightly, connecting with my cheek instead.
“Thank you, Seb. That means more to me than you know.”
Sadness crept into her eyes. I never hated anyone as much as I hated whoever had caused that look in her.