13. Trick
13
TRICK
“Alright, time for the chair.” I’ve already drawn the curtains to block any looky-loos that might drive by. It occurred to me that Marie might like some privacy for her tattoo, and well, I’d like privacy with her.
She swallows nervously, but gets onto Sam’s tattooing chair. It’s a nice model with all the bells and whistles that keep customers comfortable while we’re jamming a needle into their skin.
Once she’s settled, I start in. “You’re really not gonna thank me for the other night?” I ask, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed, a grin stretched across my face.
Marie glances up at me, her wide eyes full of confusion. “Th-thank you for what?”
“For watching.”
Her lush pink lips part in a gasp.
I motion dramatically to myself, like I deserve a medal. “You know, staying up all night, risking my life for the sweet, innocent preacher’s daughter. Didn’t get so much as a ‘thanks, Trick,’ but hey, I’m a giver. No need to make it awkward.”
Her face immediately flushes. “I—um—I didn’t realize I was supposed to?—”
“I’m kidding, Marie,” I say, cutting her off with a laugh. “Relax. You should’ve seen your face.”
She lets out a small, nervous laugh, the kind that tells me she’s not sure if she should be laughing or hiding behind the chair.
Adorable.
“But seriously,” I add, leaning in just a little. “That show you gave me the other night? Top-notch. A standing ovation from me, really.”
Her jaw drops, and I don’t miss the way her hands fly to her lap like I’ve just caught her red-handed doing something she shouldn’t. Which, in fairness, I did. After glancing around the shop even though it’s just me, her, and the guys, she hisses, “Trick!”
“Knew I could get you to gasp my name.” I wink at her.
Her cheeks go rosy. “You’re being bad.”
“What?” I grin wider. “You knew I was there. Or were you just hoping I was?”
Her mouth opens and closes, and I can practically see the steam rising from her ears as she struggles to come up with a response. Her voice jumps up into an almost squeaky register. “I wasn’t?—”
“You weren’t what? Meaning to put on a show for me?” I offer, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you did. And let me just say, Marie, it was a real masterpiece. Got anything else you want to show us?”
Her entire face goes red. Not pink. Red. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, looking down at her lap.
“Yeah, but you love it.”
“Trick,” Sam says sharply from the other side of the room, his tone low and annoyed. He’s been quiet since she walked in, and it’s probably killing him to watch me get under her skin like this. “Knock it off.”
“Alright, alright,” I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “I’ll behave. Scout’s honor.”
Marie narrows her eyes at me, but I can see the faintest twitch of a smile on her lips. “You were never a scout.”
“True,” I admit, shrugging. “But I’ve got other skills. I know how to work my wood. I can start a woman’s fire with my bare hands, or help with plumbing issues. I could show you how to tie a wank knot, or I could make you a pearl necklace?—”
“Trick!” Sam barks.
Hugo raises a brow at me. “Does this normally work for you with women?”
Marie frowns. “A wank knot?”
“That’s when you tie a satin ribbon around your?—”
“Morrissey!” Sam warns.
I hate when he uses my last name as a warning. But he’s right. I might be pushing this. I smile at him, hands up, and step back. “Just sayin’.”
“He’s fine, Sam,” Marie says quickly, but now a real smile pulls at her lips, and I know I’ve got her. “Just being Trick.”
“Alright,” I say, turning to Sam. “You’re up. Try not to scare her with your serious face, yeah?”
Marie shifts nervously in the chair as Sam sits down at his station, the hum of the tattoo machine filling the room.
“You okay?” I ask, crouching down so I’m at her eye level.
“I think so,” she says, but her voice wavers. Her hands are gripping the edge of the chair so tightly that her knuckles are turning white.
“You’re nervous,” I say, grinning. “Don’t worry. It’s not that bad. It’s like a little pinch.”
“Really?” she asks, her eyes wide with hope.
“Over and over again,” I add, unable to resist. “For an hour.”
“Trick!” she snaps, glaring at me.
“What? I’m preparing you,” I say innocently, standing up and crossing my arms. “You don’t want to go in unprepared, do you?”
She glares at me, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re not helping.”
“Alright, fine,” I say, crouching down again. “It’s not that bad. Promise. If it was, do you think I’d let Sam anywhere near me with that thing?”
Sam shoots me a look, and I smirk at him. “I mean, he’s great and all, but the guy’s got hands like bricks.” Marie laughs softly, her shoulders relaxing just a little, and I give Sam a pointed look. “See? I am helping.”
“Let’s just get started,” Sam mutters, adjusting her leg on the padding.
Marie tenses as soon as the machine buzzes to life, her hands gripping the chair again.
“It’s okay,” Sam says, his voice softer now. “Just breathe.”
“Yeah, Marie,” I add, leaning close to her. “Just breathe. And if it gets too much, you can hold my hand. Or, you know, both my hands. I’ve got big hands. You know what they say about a man with big hands.”
“Trick!” she says again, laughing despite herself.
“What? I’m being supportive.”
Sam presses the needle to her skin, and the moment he does, Marie flinches, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.
“It’s alright,” Sam says quickly, his voice calm. “Just focus on breathing. You’re doing great.”
But she’s not breathing. She’s practically holding her breath, her body stiff as a board.
“Marie,” I say softly, crouching down beside her again. She looks at me, her eyes wide and a little panicked. “You’re fine. You’re doing fine. You trust me, right?”
She hesitates, then nods.
“Good,” I say. I lean in and press my lips to hers.
I’ve been dying to do that for six months. It’s quick—barely a second—but it’s enough to make her forget everything else. Her body relaxes immediately, and when I pull back, her cheeks are pink, her lips parted like she’s trying to figure out what just happened.
“See?” I say, grinning. “Distraction. Works every time.”
She blinks at me, her hand flying to her lips. “I—I don’t?—”
“You’re doing great, Marie,” Sam says, his tone clipped as he focuses on the tattoo. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with me or just trying not to lose his cool. Probably both.
Marie looks at him, then back at me, her face still red. “I can’t believe you just?—”
“Kissed you?” I finish for her, smirking. “Hey, you said you trusted me.”
“I didn’t think you’d?—”
“Well, now you know,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms. “You’re welcome, by the way. That was all for you.”
Her blush deepens, but she doesn’t say anything, and I can’t help but feel a little proud of myself.
Sam doesn’t look up from her calf, but I can see the muscle in his jaw tightening. “You’re not helping, Trick.”
“Sure I am,” I say, grinning. “Look at her. She’s relaxed now, isn’t she?”
Marie glares at me, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“ Relaxed might be pushing it,” she mutters, but her voice is softer now, less tense.
“See?” I say, nudging Sam with my foot. “I’m a genius.”
Sam just shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he continues working.
I lean back against the counter, watching Marie as she glances between me and Sam, her cheeks still pink.
“Don’t worry, Marie,” I say, smirking. “I fuck longer than I kiss.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can see the smile she’s trying to hide. That’s worth every glare Sam’s about to throw my way.
Hugo’s smile has faded. He’s not pissed, though. He’s intrigued. I know that look well. “I think she is tensing again. Look at her. All stiff. Help her relax more.”
“You know what? I think you might be right about that, Hugo.” Leaning over her, I breathe her in. Sweet. So fucking sweet. Her caramel-brown eyes dip to my lips in anticipation. Now that she knows what’s coming, she’s less apprehensive. “Feeling tense, Marie?”
Her breaths come in short pants, from the pain, from me, I don’t know. But her nipples press against the thin fabric of her dress, and all I want is to find out what she tastes like—there and everywhere else.
“I am.”
“Let’s fix that.” I brush my fingertips along her jaw, then her neck, and underneath her hair to angle her for the kiss. The first one was brief because it was a test to make sure I wasn’t getting my signals crossed.
This one isn’t brief.
I take my time with her on this kiss, letting her open up to me and melt into it. When my tongue slips between her lips, she moans into my mouth.
This woman is fucking perfect.
She reaches up for my forearm, hooking her hand over me like she needs another point of connection between us. She kisses back like she’s been starved for affection her whole life.
We can fix that too.