18
BLAKE
When I finish up my current client and head to the register so that they can pay for the eagle tattoo I just spent two hours inking into their skin, I glance at my watch.
Gabriella should be here any minute.
I’m as nervous as I am excited.
This morning, Kain made me promise that I’d do my best work. “No pissing around,” he said. “No jokes. Take it seriously.”
Of course I intend to take it seriously. Inking something permanent onto Gabriella’s perfect virgin skin is a huge responsibility, one I am not approaching lightly.
I haven’t seen her since the night of her birthday last week. We’ve all been waiting for a message on our group WhatsApp, but nothing came through. Her absence has left us all on edge, uncertain for the reason, and facing the possible disappointment that she might be backing out of the deal. Dalton suggested that the gifts were a step too far into boyfriend territory, and I was close to agreeing when she called to arrange for me to do the tattoo. Kain has been walking around like a bear with a sore head. Dalton’s shoulders have been more rounded than usual. And I’ve been more restless than ever. Last night, Dad jokingly threatened to toss me out the window if I didn’t stop my leg from jittering. I didn’t even realize it was moving.
But she did call me to arrange this tattoo and I’m hoping it’s a good sign. At least it’s a sign our deal hasn’t run its course.
When the bell over the door rings, I glance up to find Gabriella, framed by the doorway, her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders, radiant in cut-off shorts and a pink tank.
Someone behind me makes a low whistle and I whip around to shoot Ryan a savage look. The guy is permanently horny and can get too flirty with the customers. Over my dead body he is going to flirt with my girl. Except, I can’t tell him Gabriella’s off-limits because I promised to keep our deal a secret.
She’s not my girl. She’s just a girl who uses me for sex.
The reality of that statement is a lot less satisfying than it sounds. Not that the sex isn’t perfect because it absolutely is. I just want more of the package than Gabriella seems willing to give.
“Hey, Blake,” she says brightly.
“Hey.” My whole body screams at me to kiss her, hold her, touch her, anything! Instead, I drop my clenched fists behind the protection of the register and smile like I’m not at war with my very soul. “Ready to get your first tattoo?”
Ryan, not taking the hint, lumbers up beside me. “She’s a virgin?” he asks, with a definite flirty undertone. Gabriella smiles, but I see the wariness cloud her eyes. She doesn’t like him making sex jokes.
“It’s her first tattoo.” I try to keep my tone patient, but Gab’s mouth twitches at the corner at my obvious annoyance.
I don’t want to have an argument with Ryan today, but I will if he carries on being an idiot. “This place is cool,” she says, focusing on the huge graffiti mural of brightly colored tattoo imagery, the hot pink sofa, and distressed industrial wood floors. The franchise owner, Carl, has an eye for design that he carries through all Ink Factor tattoo shops. He takes a special interest in our shop because it’s the nearest to the original.
“So, are you ready to work with me on the design?”
“I want what you described,” she says, softly blushing at the memory.
“The sleeping angel?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I hold my hand out to guide her in the direction of my section. “This way.”
As she walks in front of me, I hear Ryan whistle again and it takes all my strength not to deck him for even thinking about it. I watch Gabriella’s hips sway before catching up so I can show her where to go. She takes a seat on the chair and I grab the materials I need to start the drawing. I have the tattoo clearly in my mind, so I don’t look for inspiration.
“First, you need to sign the consent form. Then I’ll need to take measurements for where it’s going to go,” I say. “Do you want it in the place we discussed?”
“Yes,” she says.
Our eyes meet and the connection between us is a white-hot pulse of energy I feel in my dick. “You’ll need to take off your shorts and lie back.”
Gabriella doesn’t read the form, trusting that it’s okay for her to sign it. Then she begins to unbutton her shorts. It’s odd how weirdly intimate this feels when I’ve seen this girl naked multiple times, but watching her wriggle out of the snug denim is such a turn on I can hardly breathe. She slides off her sandals too and when she lies back on the reclined chair, I inhale a deep breath and hold it, trying to calm the pulse of arousal that builds with every beat of my heart.
Her panties are sweet white cotton with a little pink bow in the middle, something so innocent looking that it feels obscene.
“Can you pull this side up a little?” I ask, and she gradually eases the fabric higher so that her hip is exposed. Her hip and the seam between her gorgeous thigh and other places I can’t stop thinking about.
Shit. This is so damned unprofessional.
I take my paper and lay it over her warm skin, drawing a light ring around the area I have to work with. I try to concentrate on the mechanics of my profession, but it’s so hard when her sweet perfume lingers in the air around us, and I’m so close to places I really want to taste.
I whip the paper away as soon as I’m done, and turn my back, taking a seat on my rolling stool. All my focus goes into trying to create the most beautiful angel I’ve ever drawn. I channel how I feel about Gabriella into the soft downiness of the folded wings that form a blanket around the dainty-framed celestial being. Her nose is just like Gabriella’s, and her lips too. Her hair frames her face the same way Gabriella’s does when she lies next to me in bed. Her hands tuck under her chin in a way that seems almost childlike, and the gauzy cloth of her dress wraps around her slender legs like ribbons.
It’s so pretty. My heart swells with pride. Gabriella remains silent the whole way through, and I feel her eyes resting on my back, waiting.
“What do you think?” I ask, holding it out to her, silently praying she’s going to love it.
She gasps softly, her hand flying to cover her sweet lips. “It’s beautiful, Blake. So beautiful.” She glances up, then down again, biting on her lip. “You’ve made it look a little like me.”
I nod, holding her gaze with an intensity that shifts something inside me. Can she feel how I feel? Does she know how much I want her? I curse the way my mind keeps dragging me to places there is no point in visiting. “Does it?”
She smiles like she believes I’m pretending not to be aware. “Yes, Blake. It does.”
“Well, you are an angel, Gab,” I say. “Are you ready for me to transfer this to your skin?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says.
She lays back, pulling her panties back again, but that’s not going to work. “Gab, I think you’ll need to take those off.”
“Off?” I nod, trying not to smile as she flushes a pretty shade of candy floss. “You want me to sit here with no panties on?” She eyes the door, obviously concerned that Ryan or one of the other tattooists could walk in at any second.
“I’ll give you something to cover up with,” I say. “Although, I think I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to.”
“Very funny,” she scoffs, but her amusement peeks through. “Now, if we were at home, maybe. But here, you’re crazy!”
I grab a strip of blue tissue and hand it to her. The way she shimmies out of her cute underwear gives me an immediate boner; one I don’t fight against. She balls up the fragment of cotton and stuffs it behind herself, covering up so quickly I only get a second of the best view in the world. Her eyes drift to my crotch and when she notices the effect she’s had on me, her eyebrows shoot up.
“Woh, Blake. Down, boy.”
“What?” Holding my hands up, I take a step closer and lean in to whisper. “You think there’s a world where you can take your panties off and show me a glimpse of your sweet little pussy and I’m not going to get hard? If there is, I don’t want to live in it.”
Gabriella chews her lip, trying not to smile. “You, Blake Nowak, are terrible.”
“So terrible that you love it.”
“The best kind of terrible,” she admits.
“Do you want numbing cream, or are you going hardcore?”
“Numbing cream all the way.”
I’m relieved she’s not trying to be brave. As a first timer, the incessant press of the needle into skin would be tough to take. Plus, now I get to smooth cream over Gabriella’s skin, which is way more fun than watching her suffer at my hand.
I take the time to get my equipment ready and she tells me what happened at the hospital with Celine, and all the grim details of Celine’s confrontation with her philandering boyfriend. When I’m sure her skin is ready, I clean away the cream and shave away any tiny downy hairs and clean the area with antibacterial soap. Gabriella watches everything. I smear petroleum jelly onto her skin and take the stencil, ready to make the transfer. I hold it above the area. “This is where I think it should go,” I say. “What do you think?”
“That looks good,” she says. “It’s hard to see from this angle.”
“I can hold a mirror?”
“Yeah. That would be good.”
I take a small mirror and angle it until she says she can see the image. “Just a little higher, I think.” Making the adjustment, I meet her eyes to check if it’s correct. She shoots me a quick, nervous smile. “Perfect.”
It doesn’t take long to transfer the stencil to her skin. When I lift the paper, we both look down at the temporary image. “This is going to look so good.”
She nods, this time smiling less tightly. “I hope so.”
I smear more petroleum jelly over her skin and fill the ink caps. When I open a new, sterilized needle, Gabriella inhales quickly. I rest my hand on her slender leg, something I definitely wouldn’t do to a client I wasn’t intimate with. “It’s going to be fine. I promise. Just try to relax.”
“Maybe I won’t look,” she says.
“Yeah, that might be a good idea.”
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. I get the machine ready and switch it on. The whirring sound startles Gab, and she laughs tightly.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she whispers.
The first press of the machine against her skin sets my heart racing. The responsibility to make this good is heavy, but I know I can do something special. I just hope she’s going to love it.
I lose myself in the process, and Gabriella is so silent it’s almost as though she isn’t here. Only when I’m done, and I wipe it over one more time does she open her eyes.
“Don’t look yet,” I say. “I want you to see it in the mirror.”
At the foot of the reclined chair is a full-length mirror. I help Gab to her feet, and sweetly, she keeps her eyes closed, trusting me to lead her forward. She keeps the blue paper over her pussy, but I get a perfect view of her peachy ass as she walks slowly, and if we were anywhere else, I’d drop to my knees and kiss it.
Damn the need to remain professional.
When Gabriella’s in a good place, I tell her she can open her eyes. She starts to cry, and I’m momentarily frozen. Then she throws her arms around my neck, the stupid piece of blue tissue covering her nakedness completely forgotten.
“It’s beyond beautiful,” she says as I take the opportunity to rest my hands on her ass.
“I’m happy you like it,” I say. “I need to wrap it for you, and I’ll give you instructions on how to take care of it.”
Outside my room, Ryan whistles something tuneless and I turn Gab so that her ass is out of his line of sight if he happens to step into the room. “Now, maybe you should put your panties on before I forget where we are.”
“Promises, promises,” she laughs, and in my heart, in that moment, I know she’s the only girl for me.
When Gab’s dressed and ready to go, I lead her out into the reception area. While I’ve been busy with her tattoo, the other artists have finished with their clients. Ryan, Darian, and Phil are all sitting around shooting the breeze. Carl’s here too, catching up with shop gossip, which goes quiet as soon as they see me and Gabriella. “Did he do a good job?” Ryan asks, teasingly.
Gabriella nods. “It’s perfect. He’s a genius.”
Carl’s ice-blue eyes widen, and he nods with satisfaction. I guess it’s good to hear clients are happy with the standard of the artwork around here.
“So, I’ll see you soon,” I say, bending to kiss Gab’s cheek. She blushes when our eyes meet, conscious that we have an interested audience.
“Yeah,” she says. “Thanks again.”
I hold the door for her and watch her leave. When I turn back to my colleagues, they go from silent to laughing like hyenas in seconds.
“Seriously, dude. That girl has a lady boner for you and you’re treating her like she’s made of glass. Are you seriously not tapping that?“
“None of your fucking business,” I growl.
“She’s not a girl you tap,” Carl says, drawing the attention of the rest of the disrespectful assholes in the place. “If you guys can’t recognize wife material when you see it, I need to teach you some lessons.”
“Wife material?” Ryan laughs like it’s the funniest thing he ever heard.
“Yes.” Carl focuses his attention on me. “You need to hold on to that one. I got a good feeling about her.”