Chapter 9 Levi
LEVI
Waking up with Whip in my bed was fucking weird. Not unpleasant, because for a guy in his forties, his body didn’t look it. Even in sleep, the muscles across his back were noticeable, his ass right there, perfectly sculpted and just begging for me to fuck it.
My dick flickered at the idea of getting on top of him again.
Eyes still closed, his hand snaked across the mattress, searching for me. His warm fingers found my skin, and his palm wandered down my body, finding my morning erection waiting for him.
I groaned when he wrapped his fingers around it, pumping my shaft.
He raised his head sleepily, eyeing me without bothering to say good morning. He shifted on the mattress, spinning himself around so he could take my cock in his mouth.
“Fuck,” I bit out at the feel of his wet mouth enclosing my dick. Shit, why the fuck did that have to feel so good?
Half on his side, half on his stomach, his weight propped up on one arm, his other hand gripping my base, he tongued the tip of my dick. His lips encased me, and he bobbed his head, taking as much of me as he could.
I closed my eyes, accepting the pleasure he was handing out so freely, until I couldn’t lie still for a second longer.
I twisted to my side so we were facing each other, his head level with my junk, my head level with his. I grabbed his hip, fingers sliding around and digging into the muscled globe of his ass and dragging us together so I could get my mouth on him too.
I wrapped my lips around him, tasting the precum leaking from his tip. His hips jerked, thrusting himself into the wet warmth of my mouth, unforgiving, taking exactly what he wanted.
It only turned me on more. My hips moved in an identical fashion, the two of us writhing on the bed together, sucking each other off, grabbing at each other’s balls, and squeezing them just enough to increase the need to come.
He rolled us, taking up the position on the bottom so he was on his back, my knees either side of his head. I braced my weight on my forearms, still sucking his dick, while vaguely attempting not to choke him with mine.
The urge to thrust down his throat was there though, and I took him deeper with every pass of my lips.
He stopped sucking me just long enough to shove his fingers into his mouth, but then his mouth was back and his fingers drifted from my balls to find my asshole.
I tensed, and he slowed down until my body relaxed again. The next time he touched me there I was more prepared for it and let him.
It took less than three rubs for me to realize what I’d been missing. I groaned around his cock; glad it was deep in my mouth to muffle the indecent sound. I didn’t need the whole fucking club knowing what we were doing, and yet I wasn’t going to stop either.
Rubbing turned into penetration, just the tip at first, but when I got used to that, he gradually gave me more, until I was taking his whole finger and fireworks were going off in my brain.
There was no fucking way I was going to hold on. My balls clenched, and I let out a moan as my cock kicked, spurting cum from the tip.
He let go at the same time, his erection hard in my mouth, the salty taste of his orgasm spreading across my tongue. I didn’t stop, didn’t lift away. I took every ounce he gave me and gave him just as much in return. My brain spun, my entire body went taut with release, and then eventually relaxed.
I fell over onto my side, his finished-off erection slowly fading, me just as done at the other end of the bed.
Our heavy breaths filled the room, both of us on our backs, heads at opposite ends of the mattress, chests rising and falling from the effort.
I peeled open an eye and peered at my phone on its charger, the time displayed on the lock screen. I sat bolt upright. “Shit! I have to go to work!” I scrambled onto my knees and vaulted over him, rushing into the bathroom and turning on the shower.
I was out in under a minute, smelling of the cheap bar of soap I’d done nothing more with than run over the most vital areas: dick, ass, pits. It would have to do for now. At least I wouldn’t smell of the sex Whip and I had been having for half the damn night and now the morning as well.
I barely dried myself, dropping the towel on the bathroom floor and striding through my room naked, pulling clean clothes out of the tiny wooden freestanding closet that I had barely half filled with my meagre belongings.
I’d been living in the same pair of jeans and my club jacket, but I found an old flannel that had been packed up in a box of my things and stored in the basement until I’d returned.
It was a little tighter than I remembered it being, six years of working out daily in prison would do that to your biceps, but at least it was clean.
Feet shoved in boots, laces not bothered to be tied, I lunged for the door.
At the last second, I turned back, eyeing Whip in my bed.
He flicked his hand at me with a gruff laugh. “Go, dickhead. I’m a big boy. I can see myself out.”
It wasn’t that.
It was that I wanted to kiss him goodbye.
Like a fucking needy loser who had feelings he didn’t know what to do with instead of just being satisfied with having good sex.
My feet felt glued to the floor, my brain saying just walk out the door. My entire body and something deeper inside me drawing me back toward him like a magnet, demanding I stay.
My fucking heart won. I crossed the room to the bed and leaned over it, pressing my mouth to his.
His surprise was there in the pause where my lips hit his, but it fell away fast, and he kissed me back.
It wasn’t a long kiss, there were no demanding tongues seeking entrance, no moaning and groaning or turning it into more.
“Have a good day,” I murmured.
His blue eyes were barely focused before I was slamming my way out of the door and running for my bike.
War looked up from the table in the common room, a mug of steaming coffee clutched in his fingers. His eyebrow quirked, and I knew if he’d been sitting there long enough, he would have heard everything Whip and I had been doing.
“Shut up,” I grumped at him.
He smiled smugly. “Wasn’t going to say a word.”
I hoped he didn’t see the half-smile that crept across my face as I turned away and jogged out the door.
My bike waited for me in the lot and made quick work of getting me into town. I got to the tattoo shop five whole minutes before the time Dax had texted me to start.
Five minutes I could have spent with Whip was my first instinct, but my second was if I wasn’t in bed with him and Violet, then the shop was definitely the next best place to be.
I couldn’t stop the grin that emerged just from knowing this was where I was supposed to be.
I wasn’t much into all that woo-woo bullshit, but Lynx, my old cellmate, had been.
I suspected he would have said my soul had a connection here.
At least that’s what it felt like each time I walked in and saw the art covering every available surface.
Dax stopped wiping down a table, and leaned over it, offering me his hand. “First day. You scared?”
I squinted at him as I shook his hand. “Should I be? Is there a hazing ritual I need to pass first?”
A blond guy, with the most piercing blue eyes I’d ever seen, paused from where he was drawing on an iPad. “Dax didn’t tell you about that?”
I glanced at Dax. “No?”
He stifled a laugh and shrugged.
I turned back to the blond guy, pulling back my shoulders. “I’m up for it, whatever it is.”
“Good, because I’m just about done designing your new tattoo.” He grinned and turned the iPad around to show me.
It was a bright-yellow rubber ducky.
It was hideous and ridiculous and didn’t match with any of the other ink I had covering my skin. It would stick out like dogs’ balls.
Both men laughed at my expression.
Dax slapped me on the back. “He’s joking. There’s no initiation. We aren’t that Neanderthal.”
The blond guy stood and offered me a fist bump. “Couldn’t resist messing with you. I’m Roarke.”
“Not to be confused with me,” another voice called from a storeroom off to the side.
I jumped a little, not realizing there was anyone else there, and then an identical face to Roarke’s popped out around the doorjamb.
“Hey. I’m King. Well, Tim King, if you want to be specific, but since our parents gave Roarke the bad-boy tattooist name and me a name only fit for an accountant, I go by King. ”
Roarke sniggered and flashed the iPad at his brother. “Like my ducky?”
King recoiled. “That’s fucking hideous. What dumb asshole wants that?”
Dax laughed, peering over Roarke’s shoulder at it, and then over at me. “Friend of yours, actually.”
I groaned. “Let me guess, X wants Reginald written in a banner underneath it too?”
Roarke sniggered. “How did you know?”
“Don’t ask.”
Dax chuckled, but then a customer walked in, and then another, and pretty soon the place was a busy hum of consistent activity.
I didn’t do much, with it being my first day, and there was a lot of me cleaning off tables between clients, running to the storeroom and blindly searching it, hoping I would be able to find whatever it was the guys had asked for.
But there was also a lot of time watching them work.
Marveling at the way they moved the tattoo gun across skin to bring together designs I could only dream of creating.
They all had different styles, and I didn’t know where mine would fit in here, but an excitement pulsed inside me, a desperate need for knowledge.
I wanted to learn everything they knew until I could sit where they were.
It was fucking humbling, starting at the bottom, knowing nothing other than this is where I wanted to be.
It was late afternoon when the bell above the shop door rang. I paused, broom in my hand, mid floor sweep, and a slow grin spread across my face at Violet in the doorway, Nyah by her side.
Nyah squealed at the sight of Dax and ran across the small space to throw herself at him. But Violet just smiled at me sweetly, respecting the fact I was at work.
I appreciated that, even though all I wanted to do was storm over and wrap her in my arms. I did a full visual sweep of her, checking her over, making sure she was okay after everything that had gone down.
But she seemed perfectly well, her oversized purse tucked beneath her arm, a “Clean Sweep Cleaning Services” shirt tight across her tits, identical to the one Nyah wore.
Nyah wrapped herself around Dax, and he lifted her into his arms, kissing her like there wasn’t a roomful of his employees, plus Violet, all watching.
Roarke and King both groaned and made jokes about getting a room, but Violet took the opportunity to wander over to me.
“Hey, you.”
I grinned down at her. “Just so you know, if it wasn’t my first day and if I wasn’t trying to pretend I was all professional and making a good impression, I’d be kissing you like that right now too.”
She grinned up at me and winked. “Just something to look forward to later then.”
I swallowed down a groan at the very thought.
A night with Whip hadn’t changed my feelings for her one iota.
And some part of me knew that when I’d suggested Violet didn’t have to choose between me and him, I’d also meant that I didn’t have to choose between the two of them.
It would have been her. I’d been in love with her since her fifth letter.
She’d been the only bright star I saw in a place that was full of darkness and misery.
But there was something between me and Whip too. Something that had felt fucking right. Something that had felt good only because of how he felt about her too.
“I need you tonight,” I whispered to her. Being apart for over twenty-four hours, after the things we’d experienced up on the bluff, had been too long.
She pushed up on her toes, so her mouth was close to my ear. “So you can tattoo my pussy?”
I groaned.
She leaned back and grinned at me. “That’s twice I’ve asked now, days apart. You said I had to ask three times, and you’d do it.”
“Keep looking at me like that and I might change my mind, get you naked, spread your legs, and do it right now while I’ve got all the equipment at hand.”
Desire lit up her expression. “I’d like that. But just so you know, Nyah—”
“Levi!” she interrupted, like she’d heard Violet mention her name. “Dinner tonight. You, Violet, me, and Dax. Capiche?”
I blinked and glanced at Violet. She nodded.
“Uh, capiche,” I called back.
Nyah clapped her hands. “Excellent! It’s a double date!”
Violet stared up at me. “Are you sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
There were a million other things we should have been doing.
Trying to track down the psychopaths who’d nearly killed Violet and X being top of the list. But I didn’t think I’d ever been on a date.
Pre-prison, the idea of them had always seemed kind of stupid and a waste of time.
I hadn’t ever been interested in anyone enough to want to put on clothes, take them out, and actually have a conversation.
I might have done it a couple of times pre-club days, but the aim had always been just getting them home and getting them naked.
Then I’d joined the club where there had never been a shortage of club bunnies willing to bounce naked on my cock for as long as I could keep it hard.
But I’d had a year of getting to know Violet without any opportunity to see her in person, and it had been the biggest blessing of my life.
As much as I loved seeing her naked, I loved finding out every little detail about her more.
I already knew a lot, but I had no idea what dating her in person felt like.
I had no real idea what doing anything normal with her felt like.
But I wanted to know. I wanted to go grocery shopping with her, to cook meals together, to do the world’s most boring shit like paying bills and filing taxes.
Fuck, I’d actually have to do that now that I had an honest-to-God, legitimate job.
Mostly, I wanted her to forget that we were in the middle of a shitstorm. That had been her life for so long now, I needed her to know there could be good, even when everything felt like it was falling apart.
I brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I can’t wait.”