Chapter 34
“If you want this tattoo to look good, gonna need you to stop squirming,” Killian laughs, his fingertips brushing my skin as he stabs me over and over with his tattoo gun and despite the discomfort, his touch is like a million tiny lightning bolts striking my skin.
A giggle falls from my lips. “I can’t help it when you’re touching me.”
I’m lying on my left side, my right arm draped over my head while Killian works on the tattoo he promised me, placed on the side of my rib cage, just below my breast.
“Glad to see I have such a profound effect in you,” he says with a smirk, his dark eyes lifting to mine briefly before returning to the image he’s outlining in ink.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, killer. It tickles, that’s all.”
His smile vanishes in an instant, his expression hardening.
“Did I say something?” I ask.
His brows furrow as he pulls back, switching off the gun. “Killer… It’s what he used to call me.”
My mouth drops open in horror, mortified. “Oh my God, Killian. I had no idea.”
“It’s okay, butterfly. You weren’t to know.” The smile he gives me is small, there’s no feeling behind it. “He’s the reason I don’t kiss.”
“Really?”
He nods. “I’d kissed girls before I went to prison and I liked it just fine. He made me kiss him and ever since, the thought of kissing someone turned my stomach.”
I lean forward and peck a kiss to his lips. “Then I’m going to kiss you to make up for all the years you missed out on.”
“Look forward to it.” His brows knit, his gaze dropping to his lap. “Have you uh… had any more messages from him?”
“No, not since the day you saw them.” It’s true. Ever since he found out about them it’s been total radio silence. It’s like he wanted Killian to discover them and then find out he’s no longer in prison. “Do the guys know about him?”
“No.”
“Don’t you think they should? I mean, this guy’s dangerous.”
“I said no, Kaia. I don’t want them to know.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push. I just hate that you’ve been dealing with this all on your own.”
His eyes meet mine, warmth swimming in them. “I’m not on my own anymore. I have you.”
He holds my gaze for a beat before he clicks the tattoo gun back on and gets back to work.
I do my best not to flinch when the needle pierced my skin. “What made you start tattooing?”
“I fell into it in prison. I always enjoyed drawing as a kid and tattooing was a way to escape. Turned out I was pretty good at it. When I got out, I took a course so I could get my licence and I’ve been tattooing ever since.”
“And all these designs, they’re all yours?” I ask, letting my eyes sweep the hundreds of tattoo designs that fill the walls of the studio from the floor to the ceiling. Some simple, some more detailed and intricate that must’ve taken hours to draw.
“Yeah.”
“They’re incredible.”
“They give me an outlet, especially on bad days. Tattooing calms my mind, it quietens it, helps me forget. A lot of these designs came out of some pretty dark times, some were born from my nightmares.”
“He’s what you dream about, isn’t he? When you have nightmares?”
He nods. “Each one is different. Some are memories, some never happened but they’re so vivid it’s hard to distinguish between what’s real and what’s not. In some of them I even know I’m dreaming, but I can’t wake myself up no matter how much I try. I’m trapped.”
“You haven’t had one in a while, not since we’ve been… you know.”
“The last time was the night I first kissed you, when you found me in the box room.”
“You never told me why you used to sleep in there.”
“It’s kinda fucked up considering how much I hated prison, how much I hated being locked in that cell but after a while you get used to the small space, the safety of it. It’s oddly comforting, and at least in the box room, I can leave the door ajar.”
“But you don’t mind sleeping next to me, in the bedroom,” I point out.
“The nightmares don’t seem to find me when you’re next to me.”
“I’m glad.” I smile, my heart expanding in my chest. “I um, I never got to say it last night, but… I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For what my father did to you, allowing that monster to… to do what he did, for ignoring what was happening.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, butterfly. Can’t pick our parents, remember?”
“Speaking of parents, I got a text from my mom this morning, inviting me to come home for Christmas.”
“Are you gonna go?”
“And play happy families when all I’ll want to do is climb across the dining table and rip out my father’s eyeballs? No. Hard pass.”
He chuckles. “I’d pay good money to see that, butterfly.”
The tattoo needles hit a sensitive spot and I hiss, flinching. “Ow!”
“Sorry, baby. Not long left until I’m done.” He leans forward and places a kiss to my skin, just above the tattoo.
“It’s okay, maybe I just need a distraction from the pain…” I say, reaching for the fly of his jeans.
He sucks in a breath. “What’re you doing?”
A laugh slips free. “Let’s play a game. If you can finish my tattoo without making a mistake while I touch you, I’ll let you finish in my mouth,” I propose, rubbing him through his jeans, feeling him harden under my hand.
“Christ, butterfly. What the hell happened to that innocent girl I met only a couple months ago?”
“She met a hot, bearded bad boy who tattoos for a living, rides a motorcycle and fucks like a machine.”
“So what happens if I make a mistake?” he asks.
“You have to use your mouth to make me finish.”
“Mmm… I’m tempted to let my hand slip so I can get my mouth on that sweet pussy of yours.”
“And here I was excited at the thought of having you in my mouth.”
“Well, when you put it like that, who am I to deprive my girl of my cock?”
My girl. I couldn’t ignore the riot of butterflies in my belly if I tried.
“Is that a yes?” I ask, working open the fly of his jeans.
“You’re on, baby.”
Twenty minutes later, Killian’s reclined back in the chair with me above him, his cock deep in my mouth while his tongue spears in and out of my pussy.
It turns out a hand job isn’t enough to distract him from his work and the thought of eating me out while I gave him a blow job was far more appealing than me getting on my knees for him.
It doesn’t take long until we’re both coming and once we’ve cleaned up and gotten dressed, he takes my hand and leads me over to the full length mirror by the door.
I lift up my shirt and take in the tattoo permanently inked onto my skin, my eyes filling with tears.
It’s perfect.
The electric blue butterfly is perched on a thin branch, pink peonies budding from it.
“What d’ya think?” Killian asks me, his arms banding around me from behind.
I meet his gaze through the mirror. “I love it! Thank you.”
“Glad you like it.” His beard tickles the sensitive skin of my neck as he presses a kiss there. “Why a butterfly?”
“When I was little, I must’ve only been eight or nine, my grandmother took me to a butterfly farm.
I remember being completely awestruck. Hundreds of butterflies flying around your head, all different sizes and colours.
It was beautiful. Peaceful. I reached out to point at something and one landed on my finger, it was the most striking colour blue, exactly like this,” I tell him, pointing at the tattoo.
I reach for the butterfly dangling from my neck. “She bought me this necklace from the souvenir store, and I’ve never taken it off.”
“You and her were close?”
I nod. “She made time for me when my father was too busy with work and my mother was too invested in keeping up appearances to care. Most of my fondest memories of when I was little were made with her.”
“I’d love to meet her.”
“I’d have liked that, but she uh… she died of a heart attack a week after we went to the butterfly farm.
I wasn’t allowed to go to her funeral. It’s not a place for children, my father said.
I never got to say goodbye to her.” My eyes meet the floor as I force back the urge to cry.
“It’s just one of the many things I resent my father for. ”
His arms go around me as I rest my head back against his solid chest, his lips pressing to the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
I let my eyes drift closed, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms, a place that’s quickly starting to feel like where I belong.
“Christmas was her favourite time of year,” I continue. “It was mine too until she died. She always did her best to make it magical for me. Since then it’s never been the same.”
“Spend Christmas with me,” Killian says.
My eyes snap open, lifting to his through the mirror. “What?”
“We all get together at Ray and Rita’s house on Christmas day.
She and some of the girls cook up the best fucking Christmas dinner you’ll ever taste in your life.
We drink and dance and play stupid games, fuck a couple of the guys even butcher a few classics on karaoke.
” He laughs, spinning me around in his arms to face him. “Come. I want you there, with me.”
I lift onto my toes and press my lips to his. “I wouldn’t miss it.”