Chapter 5
Elle
Well, that explains it, doesn’t it? It’s always a bitter relationship that makes us the way we are. But I don’t take my hatred of those terrible relationships out on everyone of the opposite sex, so what’s this guy’s deal?
Let’s just forget the fact that he’s one of the hottest men I’ve ever met with his six-foot muscled frame. Or his dark brown eyes and even darker brown hair that has a natural wave. And that the growly, broody thing does it for me. I’m not thinking about how his presence is fucking with my equilibrium. The smell of leather and what I think is cinnamon overpowers the antiseptic smell of the tattoo shop. I’m itching to grab a pencil and a pad to sketch something. It doesn’t matter what it is, but the need is fierce. I can feel the energy around me, calling to me. This place. There is something special here, something that I haven’t felt in a long time.
I realize I’ve been locked in my own head when the gruff voice of irritation and annoyance filters through my head.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hear Ranger say.
“Nothing’s wrong with her, Cross. Haven’t you ever seen an artist doing artist things?” Barbie responds.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, part of me hoping I can hold on to whatever magic is in this place.
“Is she on something?”
“Is there a reason you talk around me? About me? I’m right here and could answer your questions directly, you know?” I demand, my jaw clenching as I make eye contact with the man.
“Fine. Are you on something? Because I’m not renting a damn thing to anyone who’s going to bring illegal shit into my place.”
“No, I’m not on anything. I’d say the vibe in here is perfect, but, well, you’re here, so…” I trail off, leaving the sentence unfished.
“Fuck,” he growls under his breath. “Do you want to see the fucking space or not?”
“Yes, I’d like to see the ‘fucking space,’ if that works for you.”
“Whatever. Follow me.”
Ranger turns around and stomps over to a door at the far end of the studio that I didn’t notice when I came in. Throwing it open, he clomps up the stairs, not looking to see if I’m following.
“Better go after him,” Barbie laughs. “He isn’t known for his patience.”
“No kidding,” I mumble and walk the same path he just took.
Will I have to go through the shop to get upstairs all the time? I’m looking down at my feet to make sure I don’t trip when I run into a solid wall of man. Ranger is at the top of the steps, where there’s a small landing with a metal door. It looks heavy and secure, safe.
He reaches out and grabs me by my arms when I bounce off of him, stopping me from falling backwards down the steps.
“Jesus. Watch what you’re doing. I don’t want to have to pay the insurance if you hurt yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t realize you had stopped. And it’s not like you have any rails on the walls here for safety, you know.”
I don’t want to tell him I have issues with stairs. That I’m more likely to fall up them than down. That they give me the creeps. Or that I normally feel the walls closing in on me when I’m alone in a stairwell with a man, but for some reason, I don’t feel it with him.
He grunts but doesn’t apologize, turning to unlock the door and walking through, leaving me on the landing. Asshole.
But everything changes when I walk through the door. The space is perfect. An empty canvas, a huge rectangular room with a wall of windows letting in the natural light and no walls to break it up. There’s a small kitchen area in one corner with a bathroom and what looks like a door to the outside. In the other corner is a half wall with enough room for a bed behind it. The rest of the room is wide open. The only piece of furniture is an oversized couch sitting along the wall opposite the windows.
“Do you ever use this space?” I ask.
“I’ve crashed up here a few times. Barbie moved the couch in when she caught me sacked out on the floor.” He cuffs the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning pink like he’s embarrassed. “Late night sessions, you know?”
“That I understand.” I offer him a small smile. “Will I have to go through the shop to get in and out? How does that all work?”
“No, you can lock that door and go out the one over here.” He points to the one in the kitchen. “Barbie and I both have a key to the door downstairs, but it’s only for emergencies.”
“Security system?”
“Of course. Bioscan entry from the outside. Again, mine and Barbie’s are scanned in and you will be too, but that’s it. I have an override key, but shit, I’m not even sure where it is right now. Haven’t ever needed it. There are also cameras on the building at all entrances and downstairs in the shop. One of those is facing the door leading up here.”
“Hmm.” I walk the perimeter of the room, looking out the window at the view of Main Street, and take a cursory glance at the bathroom. It’s old and outdated, but functional. Nothing a new showerhead wouldn’t improve greatly. The kitchen has a small fridge and a stove. A sink. No dishwasher, but I don’t plan on doing many dishes up here.
“The windows look like they need replacing, and we can figure out a time for that. There’re a couple of weak spots around the frame. Wouldn’t recommend pushing on the windows. They should hold, but not worth the risk. You can open them if you want, though.”
The space is big enough for my biggest canvas. There’s plenty of floor for my largest tarp. A few floor lamps for the overnight sessions and it would be perfect. There’s even a corner for a kiln if I decide I need one.
I’m lost in my own thoughts when I feel him behind me, his body heat hitting my back and making my heartbeat pick up.
“So is it good enough for you or do you need something more posh for your rich girl standards?” he asks.
I turn around so fast, he has to catch me in his arms again. His face has one of almost amusement on it, while I’m sure mine is tomato red with anger.
“I don’t know what crawled up your ass when it comes to me, but I’ve about had it with your bullshit. I don’t know what you think you know about me, but you don’t know fuck all.”
Crowding me, he lowers his head to make full eye contact with me. “I know I don’t want you here, but I’ll do it because your brother is like family. I don’t like your kind. I don’t need your money, and I don’t need your flighty personality changes.”
“My kind? What the fuck does that mean?” I demand.
“It means you drive me fucking nuts.”
“Seems like a personal problem to me, bud.”
We continue to stare at each other, my mouth going dry. I lick my lips, and it’s like a switch flips inside him. His eyes follow my tongue, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” I whisper, my own voice hoarse.
“Fuck me, but I do.”
“Then do it,” I challenge.
And do it, he does.
His lips crash down on mine. A surprise attack. He holds nothing back, his tongue demanding entrance, his hands coming up to my face, moving me exactly where he wants me.
When my back collides against the wall, he breaks apart and takes deep, harsh breaths.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” he growls.
“Not a thing,” I agree.
“I’m serious. This means nothing.”
“So am I. Take your pants off.”
I’m undoing my jeans and sliding both those and my panties down my legs. When I look back at him, he’s staring at my legs, not moving.
“Don’t start questioning yourself now, asshole. Get your dick out and use it. You know how to do that?”
“Fuck you,” he responds.
“Please do.”
He places his hand around my neck, raising my face up, but doesn’t apply any pressure. “You’re kind of a bitch, you know that?”
“Nicest thing you’ve said to me since we met.”
I don’t know what this is. Hate fucking? Angry sex? Quickie with a dickie? Whatever it is, when he pulls his cock out of his pants, my mouth waters. It’s perfect. Big, but not too big, girthy in just the right way with those angry looking veins I want to lick. Too bad this isn’t about that right now. It’s getting whatever this tension is between us gone. We just have to fuck it out of our system or we’ll go crazy.
“Condom,” he grumbles. “I don’t have one.”
“I’m on the pill, I’m not ovulating, and I was just tested three weeks ago.”
“I’m clean.”
“Then get over here with that thing and show me you know how to use it.”
After that, there’s no more verbal foreplay. Still against the wall, he lifts my legs and wraps them around his waist. He leans back far enough to grip his cock and line it up at my entrance, only pausing long enough to tell me there’s a gentleman under there somewhere.
“Are you wet enough?”
I reach down between us and run my finger through my slit, grazing the head of his penis. He shudders at the contact, his jaw clenching with his eye locked on my finger. I bring it up to his mouth, holding it a whisper’s breath away from his lips.
“You tell me.” I challenge him with a lift of my brow.
When he opens his mouth and sucks my finger in, my core clenches, throbbing with the need I have. His eyes never leave mine as he swirls his tongue around the digit, humming at the taste.
“Yeah, I’d say you’re ready.”
And with that statement, he lines up his cock and plunges it into my pussy. I grunt at the intrusion, my poor kitty having been neglected for too long, but I adjust quickly with each thrust, my wetness coating him.
“So fucking tight,” he growls like it’s offensive to him
“Better than the Grand Canyon,” I shoot back, squeezing his cock for extra effect.
“Do you ever shut up?” he asks, thrusting so deep he bottoms out.
“Are you ever not an asshole?” I moan in response.
“Touché.” He punctuates the word with a hard thrust.
I can feel the tingles of the impending orgasm start in my feet and continue up my legs. My arms are starting to burn from holding onto him so tight.
“Gonna come soon,” he warns, his control snapping.
He tilts me forward with his hands gripping my ass. His balls slap against my ass, and the base of his cock rubs against my clit with every jerky movement. I bang my head into the wall behind me, a noise I’ve never heard coming from my body as the orgasm hits me, ripping from my soul.
“Rrrggaaaddd,” is the only sound I can make. I think I was trying to say his name, or God’s name, or DaVinci’s name for all I know.
I can’t feel any part of my body, other than the one currently being impaled on Ranger’s cock. He’s still drilling me, thrusting through my orgasm. It. Just. Won’t. End.
Finally, I feel him tense up in my arms and open my eyes just in time to see his roll into the back of his head as he pulls out of me, coming on my thigh. He’s still gripping my ass, and I’m still clamped around his body, both of us struggling to find the breath needed to move.
Ranger finally comes back to himself, and slowly, with more care than I thought possible, extracts my legs from around his hips and lowers me to my feet, not letting go of me until he’s sure I can stand on my own. When I finally remove my death grip from around his neck, he stands tall while I sag against the wall. He looks down at my leg, a glint in his eye that maybe he doesn’t hate the sight. But I blink and it’s gone. The asshole is back, standing in front of me.
“I think there’s a towel in the bathroom if you want to clean up,” he says almost dismissively, not removing his gaze from my legs glistening with his release.
“Yeah, thanks.” I stand up from my slouch against the wall, bend over to pick up my discarded clothes, making sure he gets a good view of my ass, and walk to the bathroom.
It’s while I’m rinsing out the towel that I hear the door close in the main room. I don’t think anything of it, but when I come out of the bathroom, the place is empty. Ranger is gone. There’s a note on the kitchen counter, his scrawl letting me know my fate.
Rent is $600.00 a month. I’ll leave the key with Barbie downstairs if you want it and text you everything you need later. –J. Cross
Well, not even a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, to be had. Just the wham and bam. Probably for the best, right? He doesn’t like me, and I sure as shit don’t like him. Fuck him. And at this price? I’ll gladly take the space and never talk to him.
Time to get to work. I’ve got a studio to set up.