3. CHAPTER THREE
Forbidden Ink
I eyed the clock on the wall. I’d been booked solid and was tired as fuck.
But it was only nine thirty and I couldn’t wait to see Oya again.
To say she plagued my mind the past few days would be an understatement.
Her smell, her laugh, and the way she looked at me like she wanted to tear my clothes off as much as I wanted to tear hers off played over in my mind.
And despite the hectic few days since I saw her that first night, it was like the days had flown by.
I went to the bonfire like King demanded, but only stayed a few hours.
It was all I could manage because regardless of what was going on at the club, I still had a business to run.
I drank way too much, smoked even more, and enjoyed a night of relaxation.
I hated to admit it, but I needed the break.
I hadn’t had a real vacation in a long time.
Not that I couldn’t afford one, I hated leaving my business in the hands of other people.
I could admit, I was a control freak, especially when it came to what was mine.
At the bonfire, I met the two women Grimm sent, and it looked like King had finally met his match with Alana Robinson.
The best friend of Grimm’s sister. She gave him hell, and I loved every minute of it.
It wasn’t often my brother was left speechless and I thoroughly enjoyed watching him have his balls handed to him by the feisty woman.
She didn’t care he was president. She didn’t care that everyone around him asked how high when he said fucking jump.
She treated him like an ordinary person, not the badass leader of a one-percenter club.
Something he wasn’t used to. But with Alana around until everything was cleared up with the Bianchis, he’d have to get used to it because I didn’t see her pulling any punches.
He would either kill her or fall head over heels in love with her. It was still a toss-up.
I paused setting up my work area when there was a light knock on the door. “Come in.”
The door slowly opened, and Oya peeked her head in.
When she saw me, her eyes brightened, and my fucking heart stopped in my chest. If she’d looked at me like that until the day I died, I’d die a happy man.
I pushed the feeling down, so I didn’t come across like a creep, walked over to the door, and ushered her in, closing it behind me.
“Angel, just told me to head on back,” she said with her hands, and a clutch in front of her body as she looked around the room, “I hope that’s fine?”
Today she had on a white silk blouse, a bright pink skirt that stopped just above the knee, which looked like it was in love with her body with how it hugged her curves, and white strappy heels that added at least three inches to her height.
Just looking at her made me wonder how much of a chance I had with a woman like her.
She was educated, and classy. I was an ex-con covered in ink, not to mention at least ten years younger than her, if not more.
Angel was right. She was completely out of my fucking league, but I was a glutton for punishment.
“Of course. He should be locking up the front and heading out. So, it’s just you and me. Hope that’s cool with you?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “So, this is where you do your thing, huh?”
“It is. I work with celebrities, so I have to be separated from the crowd.” She faced me, and nervous energy rolled off her in waves. I grasped her hands. “There’s no need to be nervous. I’ll take care of you. You ready?”
She took in a deep breath and exhaled, then nodded. “I’m ready.”
I winked, then faced away from her. “Take your shirt off.”
I pulled out a pair of packaged gloves from the drawer where I kept all my supplies, including needles. I’d already set up the ink and stenciled the quote. All I had left to do was prep her skin. I faced her. Her eyes widened, and she still had her shirt on.
“Oya?”
“I’m so...sorry,” she said, fumbling over her words. “What did you say?”
I took a step towards her. "I said, take off your shirt." I tilted my head at the look of horror on her face. I grabbed her shoulders and moved my hands up and down the silk covering her arms. "Babe, I can't do a tattoo on your ribs unless you take your shirt off."
“I know it’s just...”
I stood in her space, but she didn’t seem bothered by the closeness, and neither was I.
“Now tell me what’s the problem.”
She hid behind her hands, covering her face. “It’s so embarrassing,” she groaned.
I pulled her hands from her face and grasped them. “I’ve got time.”
“You remember the celebration Raquel mentioned when we first came into the shop?” she asked, looking into my eyes.
“I remember you avoiding what she said.”
“You remember that, huh?” she asked, laughing. “Anyway, we were celebrating my divorce.”
“So, congratulations are in order?” I asked with a chuckle, but I was interested if she was torn up over it. I wasn’t into capitalizing on her heartbreak. But if there was a chance I could have her under me, I would take it.
“Yes, congratulations are definitely in order. It had been a long time coming. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.”
“You’d be amazed the stories and deep dark secrets I hear from my clients.
Some treat me like their therapist or their priest.” I laughed, but I was serious.
I’d been told so much shit over the years, especially when I was in prison, tattooing inmates.
“But I don’t want to pressure you. I just want you to have the best experience. ”
“You’re so sweet.”
“Well, that’s not a word, I’m used to a woman calling me, but from you, I’ll take it.” I winked. “So, what’s got you so shy?”
She took a deep breath and released it. “I froze because no other man has seen me without my clothing since my ex-husband. And as you can see, I’m not young anymore. Things aren’t how they used to be.”
“You’re beyond gorgeous, Oya, regardless of your age. And if I’m being honest, I want to see you. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll shut my eyes and turn my back. Whatever you need me to do.”
“You want to see me?” she asked surprised.
“Who the fuck wouldn’t?” I asked standing in front of her.
I turned her towards the mirror hanging on the wall as I stood behind her with my hands resting on her shoulders.
“This hair.” I twirled a loc around my finger.
“Your skin.” I ran my finger down her jawline.
“You are the most attractive woman, I’ve ever seen. ”
She stared at me in the mirror like she couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. It was the truth. Oya was a woman who stood out above everyone else. She was indescribable. She was fucking chef’s kiss exquisite.
“Thank you, Saint.”
I shrugged. “I’m only speaking the truth.”
She kept her eyes trained on me as she slowly started to unbutton the silk blouse she wore after taking a deep breath and letting my words sink in.
My cock hardened. There was no fucking way she couldn’t feel me against her ass, but she kept her eyes trained on me.
Fuck, I was salivating just waiting, watching this woman undress for me.
If not for me, I could pretend it was just for me.
It was normal for people to undress in front of me.
People get tattoos anywhere there was skin.
I’d tattooed tits, asses, dicks, and cunts.
You name it, I’d done it. So, I was used to naked people.
But Oya...Oya wasn’t even going to be completely nude.
Just her removing her shirt was enough to have me panting.
I grabbed the silk blouse from her hand as she stood in front of the mirror in a black lace bra, covering ample-sized breasts, specks of dark skin peeking through.
She looked like a fucking goddess. I hung the shirt on the rack in the corner customers used for their clothes if they needed to undress.
I felt her eyes track me throughout the room.
The hum vibrating through my body was exciting and unnerving.
I’ve never wanted to experience a woman as much as I wanted to experience the walls of Oya’s pussy fluttering around my cock, or her pussy juices on my tongue so bad.
I paused for a moment and pushed down my desires.
This wasn’t about me getting my dick wet, I reminded myself. She wanted a tattoo, nothing more.
I prepared the gun, then finally looked at her again. She still stood in front of the mirror, gazing at me through the reflection. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.
“Do you really want to know?” I asked, taking a step closer to her.
She faced me. I knew she wanted me. It showed brightly in her eyes. But she would have to take the first step because if I had Oya once, it wouldn’t be just one time. She was just that kind of woman.
“I do,” she answered.
I walked forward until I stood in front of her. Her chest rose quickly, expecting my answer.
“I was just thinking how much I would love for you to come in my mouth.” I licked my lips just thinking about the moisture touching my tongue. Her tiny gasp urged me further. “How good it will feel to have your cunt wrapped tightly around my cock.”
Her brown eyes darkened.
“Would you like that, sweetheart?” I asked.
Taking a leap of faith, I brushed the pads of my thumbs over her rigid nipples, still encased in her lace bra. Her eyes closed on contact. It was probably forward of me, but I couldn’t help it. I loved seeing her reaction.
“Would you like my tongue and cock buried deep in your wet pussy?”
“Saint,” she moaned, arching towards me.
“All you have to do is ask, Oya.” I grasped both her breasts, squeezing them in my hands, loving how heavy they were, how soft. I could just imagine them in my mouth. “Tell me, and I’ll give you the fucking world.”
“But you don’t know me.”
“I don’t.” I ran my tongue up the column of her neck, relishing in the taste of her skin. “But I want to. All you have to do is say the word.”