Chapter 12 You Win Some, You Lose Some #2
We split up at the locker rooms, and I grab my bag and start changing out of my gym clothes. It snowed a little today, so the gym was pretty empty, as is the locker room now. I pull off my leggings, but before I can step into my jeans, I hear footsteps, slow and heavy, in the row behind me.
It doesn't sound like a woman.
I pull the knife Nolan gave me from my bag just as Dax rounds the corner. "Jesus, Ripley. Are you going to stab me?"
I sigh, relieved, and with shaky hands, toss the knife back into my bag. "What are you doing? You scared the shit out of me."
"Well, you were taking too long, and you have a stalker. Also, the last time you took this long, you ran off, and I got in trouble for losing you."
"Right…sorry about that. I'm almost done."
"Hey, Saige?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you hope they win or lose?"
I roll my eyes. "I don't think he was serious about that."
"Really? I do. So, which one are you hoping for? Do you want to get your ass beat or your pretty face fucked?"
"Neither one."
"Come on. Just tell me—do you want them to win or lose?"
"Well…winning is good, so I hope they win."
"Winning is good, isn't it? Maybe Nolan and I could help you loosen up that jaw before he gets home. You're going to need it."
I shake my head. "Shut up."
"What if they tie?"
"Um, I don't know. He didn't say."
"Maybe he'll beat your ass with his dick shoved down your throat. Hmm…"
"You're picturing it, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am…and I really like it. The physics are interesting; I think the best way to do it would be if he sat on the bed, and—"
"Dax, stop."
"Okay, I'll stop…maybe. But I have something serious to ask you."
"What is it?" I ask as I lace up my boots.
Dax blows out a breath. "Okay, so…there's something I really need from you, but I'm afraid you'll say no."
"If you're afraid to ask me, I probably will say no."
"Saige," he says, his tone shifting to something more vulnerable. "I'm serious."
"What is it?"
"I think it's better if you just come with me."
I sigh and grab my bag. "Okay."
We leave the gym and then drive to Downtown West Pine, parking on a busy street lined with shops and restaurants. I get out of the car, and Dax takes my hand.
"I don't get it," I say. "What are we doing here? Is this a drug thing? Because I'd probably say yes to that."
"It's not a drug thing," Dax tells me before stopping. "We're here."
I look up at the sign. Black Cat Tattoos.
"Dax…" I shake my head. "No."
"Listen, just come inside with me for a second. Let me show you something."
"I don't want to."
"Let me show you, anyway. Okay?"
He leads me inside, where he's greeted by an artist near the back of the shop. "Hey, Dax. Give me a minute; I'm just finishing up."
"No problem, Dom." Dax turns back to me, whispering, "Come here; come sit down with me."
His tone, his mannerisms confuse me. He's making it really hard for me to be pissed at him.
"Look, I'm sorry," he says, pulling a sketchbook from his bag. "I know what you're probably thinking—that you don't want me to mark you like everyone else—"
"Yeah, that is what I'm thinking, Dax. I mean, is this supposed to be funny? Because I'm not laughing."
"I'm not laughing, either, Saige. It's not like that.
I can't explain why I need this; I just do.
I love you so much. And I need it more from you because I love you, not less.
" He starts flipping through the pages in the book.
"Listen, I'm not going to make you do anything, but I drew something for you, and I think you'll like it. "
He stops on a page with an anatomical heart wrapped in barbed wire. "Is that it?"
Dax nods. "Yeah."
"It's just like yours."
"Well, you like mine. And I'll always have one that looks just like yours. It's a compromise of sorts—mutually assured destruction. Full disclosure, yours is a little different, though."
"Different how?"
"See right here? In the wire? That's a 'D.' I didn't tell the others I put my name in their tattoos." He pauses, waiting for a reaction, but I don't have one; not yet, anyway. "And, um, over here…is an 'N.' For Nolan."
"Let me see it."
I take the book from him, studying the picture, the initials woven into the barbed wire. I do love that tattoo—it is my favorite. And, fuck me, because I like this, too.
I take a deep breath before turning to Dax. He looks really strung out about it; I don't think I've ever seen him like this. "You need this?"
"Yeah…I really do."
I look at his tattoo, then back to the image on the page, thinking it over. "You do it, too, then."
"What do you mean?"
"If you add an 'S' and an 'N' to yours, then I'll do it."
He playfully narrows his eyes. "Tattoos are permanent, Ripley."
"Well, I've got bad news for you, Hawthorne. I've already left a permanent mark on you, anyway. And there's nothing you can really do about it now."
He bites back a smile and then grabs my hand. "Put it here," he says, pointing to my forearm. "Where people can see it. And I'll do it."
"Fine. You first."
I expect him to change his mind, but he doesn't. Dax introduces me to Dominic, a biker-looking guy about the size of a house, tells him what we want, and then he takes us back.
I can tell he's curious about me; I know he's probably seen about a dozen people just like me in the past, but he doesn't ask questions. It doesn't take long for him to add the letters to Dax's barbed wire, and once he's finished, he shows it to me, waiting for my approval.
"How's that look, princess?"
"I like it. It looks good."
"You're up next," Dom tells me.
"You can sit on my lap, Saige."
"Is that what all the others did?" Dom shoots me a puzzled look, likely surprised that I know about the others. "I don't want it to be like with them."
"No. I sat in the corner, on my phone. Dom can confirm."
I look at Dominic. "Did he?"
He shrugs. "Yeah, I don't think he paid much attention."
"All right."
I climb into the chair, reclining against Dax while Dominic gets the stencil ready and then starts working on my tattoo.
It is really pretty—better than my others, like Dax said.
"You're doing great, baby," he tells me. "It looks so fucking good."
When it gets painful, I lean back against Dax, closing my eyes while he runs his fingers through my hair and kisses my face, telling me how much he loves me and how proud he is of me, his dick rock hard against my backside.
He slips his hand under my shirt and then inside my bra, gently rolling my nipple between his finger and thumb while Dom works on my arm.
I dig my fingers into his thigh, trying to keep both my other arm and breath steady while my center grows slick. "You're making me so fucking happy right now," he whispers while he rolls my nipples between his fingers. "You're such a good girl for me, baby."
It takes almost two hours—two hours of Dax toying with my tits, his erection pushing against me—to finish the tattoo. Dax pays while I use the washroom in the back. Just before I leave the room, I stop, examining the tattoo in the mirror.
Mutually assured destruction—that's what he called it. That's kind of what we've always been, isn't it?
It's beautiful, but I wonder why he needed it so badly. And he did need it; I heard it in his voice.
A soft knock on the door pulls me out of my head.
"What are you doing in here?" Dax asks when I open it.
"Sorry. I was just looking at it."
"Yeah?" He closes and locks the door behind him. "You don't regret it, do you?"
I shake my head. "No."
He moves toward me, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of my leggings. "I know what you're thinking," he says as he works them over my hips. "No, I didn't fuck any of the others in this bathroom."
"Do you promise?"
He nods. "I promise. I sent them home; I thought it was funny."
It's cruel; I know that. Still, I can't help that I like it. It shouldn't make me feel special, but it does.
"Bend over and grab the sink, baby. You get the princess treatment—you're going to get fucked."
I do as he asks, arching my back, watching in the mirror as he unbuttons his jeans and then fists his cock, slowly closing the space between us. He kicks my legs apart and then pushes against my entrance, rocking his hips slightly until he's buried to the hilt.
I moan while he moves in and out of me, watching him fuck me, sweat forming on his brow as he thrusts his hips.
"You know how fucking hard I got watching you get marked? If I thought you could have sat still, I would have pulled it out and fucked you right there."
"Yes…I felt it."
"Then you know why I couldn't wait, huh?" He wraps his hand around my wrist, turning my arm until he can see the tattoo. "I look so fucking good on you, Saige. And your sweet pussy looks so fucking good on me."
My knees threaten to buckle beneath me as my climax takes over. "Dax…fuck!"
I know Dom and the others in the shop can hear me, but I don't care. I don't care who knows I'm getting fucked; I don't care if they hear me coming.
"Oh, god!"
"That's it, fuck doll," Dax rasps into my ear. "I'm about to fill you up, so I hope you're ready for it. I hope no one catches you back here with your pussy dripping like a fucking slut."
Dax groans, gritting his teeth to drown out the sound the orgasm pulls from his throat, his hips rolling against my backside while his dick pulses inside me, filling me.
When he finishes, he leans over me, pressing his lips to mine. "Don't clean it up," he says. "I'll do it later."
"Okay," I say breathlessly.
"I love you so much, baby."
"I love you, too."
When we get back to the house, Dax cooks for me, bathes me, and fawns over me like I'm fucking helpless. And I love it.
Later, he works on his painting while I do my English Lit homework in his bed, watching the clock, waiting for Nolan to get back.
I know better than to text him while he's following Miles, but he's usually home by now.