CHAPTER 27
PLAYBOY
I lean back slightly and wipe Lara’s skin. This is our last tattoo session and we’re almost done. It’s a bittersweet feeling because I’m not ready for the sessions to be done. Now, at least, I can talk to her anytime I want without the buzz of the tattoo gun in the background.
Still, I’m a little sad.
“You don’t need to pout,” Lara teases me.
I glance at her and make my pout even more pronounced. Her laughter fills the space. She looks at me with affection and like she’s not sure what to do with me.
It’s one of the best ways she looks at me.
“I’m not pouting,” I try and defend myself. It falls flat; I knew it would.
“You know,” she starts, her voice turning coy, “you don’t have to hide behind the tattoo sessions anymore, Jettson.”
I stick my tongue out at her, and she shakes her head with her lips pressed together to hide her smile. “No, I don’t, but I still don’t like that this is the last one.”
She makes a humming sound and nods. “I understand,” there’s a wistful quality in her voice and it tugs at my heart.
We’ve been solid. Finding and dealing Lola wasn’t even a speedbump to us. I did tell her where she was sent for the purpose of paying off her debt, but she didn’t even bat an eye.
Instead, she shrugged one shoulder casually and mused, “Doesn’t sound all that different from the life she was living. Just a different pay structure.”
I blinked at her twice and then barked out a laugh.
Most nights I’m over at her place, unless there’s something going down at the club. Then we’ll stay in my room while Vanessa is treated like a princess over at Dad’s house. I love the routine we’ve found. There’s something peaceful in it, something grounding.
I’ve never felt like I truly belonged, not when my mom always felt like a stain I couldn’t get clean. No one made me feel that way; it was all me. I was always trying to prove myself.
As the toughest.
As the funniest.
As the wildest.
I don’t have to do that anymore, especially with Lara and Vanessa. They don’t want a show, they want peace, laughter, and security.
Vanessa treats the relationship between Lara and me like she’s a psychic and told us how it was going to end ages ago. Which is funny considering we were trying to keep it low profile with her for a little while.
Then she walked, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen one night when I was grabbing some water. She wasn’t surprised to see me and she certainly wasn’t scared.
Vanessa waved a hand dismissively, her voice groggy with sleep, “I’m just here for something to drink. Don’t mind me, I’m going back to bed. Maybe today you’ll stick around for breakfast.”
All I could do was stare at her for a second and then I hissed, “You knew I was here?”
“I’ve known the whole time,” she deadpanned looking me right in the eye. “I live here.”
That was that. All she wrote. Voluptuous lady choirs.
The house is still going up. There’s a delay with permitting which has pushed us back, but I’m not worried about it. It just gives Lara more time to get the words past her lips and give into us fully.
Her property cut is hanging in her closet. Every now and then I’ll go in and look at it. But I don’t mention it and I don’t push.
She’ll put it on when she’s ready. Just like she’ll say the words when she’s ready.
When she trusts me.
That day will come and when it does, she knows that’s it. I won’t let her go.
I hope she’s ready to hold on tight for the ride.
“Opal keeps bugging me about wearing a costume to the Halloween party this weekend,” Lara’s voice pulls me out of my daydreams of someday soon. She narrows her eyes. “Do people really wear costumes?”
“Why are you so skeptical?” I challenge her and arch an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I can’t really picture Jackal wearing a Bamm-Bamm costume,” she sasses and it’s sexy as fuck.
A laugh sputters out of me, and I have to sit back. “No, I can’t picture that either. I’d fucking love to see it in reality, though.”
Lara covers her face with her hands. “Could you imagine?” She cocks her head slightly, “Maybe Fred? Vera would make a smokin’ Wilma.”
My eyes trail over her body and my voice drops an octave, “What are you planning on wearing?”
Her smile turns sweet and that makes it even hotter. “I guess you’ll just have to see.”
“I can’t believe you won’t do a couple’s costume with me. I was looking forward to it,” I whine.
Her eyes flick over me and my cock throbs. “Can you dress like a greaser?” She leans toward me and whispers, “It shouldn’t be too hard.”
“I can do that,” I speak slowly and look at her suspiciously. “Are you doing a whole pin-up bombshell kind of thing?”
“Clearly,” she scoffs.
My eyes slide closed and I let out a low groan, “Fuck my life. I’m going to kill someone. I already know.”
Lara laughs before motioning toward the gun. “Let’s finish up here, Picasso.”
I nod and get back to work, but I’m really basically done. I’m just drawing it out. Because I don’t want this to be over.
“How about we plan a weekend away? The three of us?” I glance at her and she’s looking at me with love in her eyes.
“I’ll plan it, if you’re interested. Maybe Chattanooga?
We can do a house rental for a weekend and see the aquarium.
” I start fucking babbling, “It’s not too far, but far enough to get away and see another town. ”
This is big and it would be something new for us. It would also be the first time we do something as a family unit.
Will she trust me enough to give it a shot? Fuck, I hope so. I think she will.
Probably.
Maybe.
I feel the back of my neck prickle while I focus on my work. And her verdict.
LARA
My biker is adorable. He looks worried that I’m going to say no to a weekend away.
Why would I refuse? If he’s really going to plan it, I’m all in.
“Okay,” I grin when his eyes widen, “you look at your schedule and let me know when you want to do it. I’ll work the bakery’s schedule around it as long as I don’t have a big custom order.”
For a moment, hunched over my arm, Jettson freezes. When he looks at me, the movement is slow.
“Is this you saying yes?”
“Did it sound like me saying no?”
“Well, no,” he admits and I give him a look.
I swear the guy is practically glowing as he leans back over my arm. He keeps looking for little things, wiping my skin, and picking up ink. But he’s done.
It’s clear from the look on his face. He’s just stalling.
There’s no reason for me to call him out on it. Not right now. Not when he’s so damn cute like this; all flustered.
I feel freer knowing Lola has been dealt with and won’t bother us anymore; I believe him. The burden of my past with her is gone.
Sometimes I look at him and remember the guy who snarled at me and said off-base things which were rude and mean spirited. Every day it gets harder to reconcile that version of him with the man in front of me. I suppose that means I’m ready.
I’ve been holding back and he’s very aware of it. He hasn’t made me feel guilty about it or used my own trepidation to hurt me.
Jettson has been steady and sure. He keeps showing up. I can feel his remorse and his sincerity.
I think I’m ready to love him openly and completely.
“Are you going to keep pretending you’re not done?”
“You didn’t have to call me out on it,” he grumps. Still, he puts the tattoo gun down and cleans the last of the vines and flowers he added today. He nods toward the mirror, “Go and take a look at the whole thing. I’ll wrap it and then I have a surprise for you in my office.”
After I make my way over, I meet his gaze in the mirror. “A surprise?” He nods and I narrow my eyes. “It’s not your dick, is it?”
Riti starts laughing so hard she has to put her tattoo gun down and pull her gloves off because she’s wiping tears from her cheeks. Her client tries not to laugh, but he’s not very good at it. She’s only here because I told Jettson to stop being ridiculous and run his business the right way.
Jettson glares at me, but there’s no real heat behind it. “No, it’s not my dick,” he says it like it’s not an actual possibility. We both know it is.
And the surprise probably is, in reality, his dick.
“It’s done,” he lets out a long sigh as he finishes wrapping me up.
I tease him and wiggle my fingers at him to take my hand, my voice sweet, “Now I get a surprise that is not your penis?”
“Fuck,” his tone is full of admonishment, “don’t say penis.”
“But it is a penis?” My question is over the top innocent. I even throw in a little eyelash batting.
He hustles me away from his station and toward the office. The moment I step inside he practically slams against me because I freeze.
In the middle of his desk is a small pan of blueberry crumble. My favorite dessert.
Vanessa doesn’t care for it, and I don’t make it at Bunz Out because an individual serving of any type of crumble is not something I want to deal with. Combine those things and it means I rarely have the chance to enjoy it.
“That’s a blueberry crumble,” I say obviously.
“It is,” he agrees.
I whirl around and grip his shoulders like I’m about to shake him. I don’t, but I almost do. “Did you make me blueberry crumble?” My voice is higher than it normally is and I think I’m having an out-of-body experience.
Jettson’s grin is boyish. “I consulted Lorraine and a few of the other Old Ladies. We went over a few recipes and decided on this one to try first. If you don’t like this one, or if it’s not right, I have other options.” He clears his throat and looks away. “But I made it all by myself.”
“You made me blueberry crumble,” my words wobble a little this time.
“It’s your favorite and since today your tattoo is done, I think you’ve more than earned your favorite dessert. If you want, I already asked Stan and he said we could take it over there and he’ll top it with some ice cream.”
“No,” I’m quick to blurt out, “I want to eat it right here.
Jettson kisses me on my forehead and then I watch, dazed, as he plates up some blueberry crumble for us both to enjoy. It’s delicious. But I barely taste it.
I’m too focused on looking at my biker.
Now.
My heart whispers the gentle prompt just as I swallow the last bite. I put my plate on the desk and reach into the bag at my feet. When my gaze flicks to him, he’s already watching me. He normally is.
“I have a surprise for you too.”
His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. When I stand up, I pull the cut from my bag and slip it on.
The way he watches me turns predatory. His muscles coil like he’s about to spring up from his seat, but I hold a hand up. He freezes but it obviously costs him something, like a little piece of his sanity and control.
“Jettson,” I start and take a deep breath before letting it out slowly, “you’ve become someone steady in my life.
You’re there when I need you and you keep showing up.
The entire time you’ve been working toward redemption, I’ve been holding back.
It never seemed to bother you even though you knew I was doing it. ”
“I’ll wait, no matter how much time you need.” He doesn’t even hesitate.
“I know,” I whisper. “I wasn’t sure I was going to do this today, but I realized I look at you and rarely think of that other version of you. Now I just see the man who lets Vanessa paint his nails and who shows up with dinner unannounced and uninvited.”
He chuckles, but he doesn’t apologize. I don’t expect him to.
“You’ve loved me without expectation, and you’ve done it with your whole heart. Now,” I run my hand down over the leather of my cut and his eyes heat, “it’s my turn to love you.”
He shoots up from his chair so fast that I take a startled step back. I’m in his arms before I realize it. One of his hands is braced at the small of my back while the other is between my shoulder blades as he bends me backwards slightly.
I’m not afraid of him dropping me. I never am.
“Say it,” he growls, the sound bordering on feral.
“I love you, Jettson.”
The words seem to echo around us, bouncing and coming back, hitting him again and again as his brown eyes memorize me.
“Again.”
“I love you, Jettson.”
His mouth descends and we’re both lost to the heat between us, to the need. To the love. The only time he seems to control himself is when he gently places the crumble on a shelf along the other wall. Hopefully, it’ll be safe there.
But I hardly get to worry about it as Jettson bends me over his desk and yanks the maxi dress I’m wearing up and over my ass. The sound of my panties being ripped from my body has my thighs clenching together while I get even wetter.
For him.
Always for him.
The broad crown of his cock slides up and down my slit. He finds my entrance and pushes just the head inside.
My back arches, but his hand wraps around my shoulder and holds me in place. I want him deep inside me; I need to feel it. I’m panting and moaning while my body strains to entice him.
“Again.”
“I love you, Jettson.”
His hips thrust forward and he fills me completely. I moan his name as my head snaps up and my hair flies through the air.
“I already know your sweet pussy is going to make me cum too fast,” he groans. “I’m too close to the edge.”
I’m barely able to pant out, “Because I said I love you.”
Something flips in my biker. He starts to pound into me hard and fast. His pace is relentless as he keeps me right where he wants me.
I give myself over to him and enjoy the ride. When we come together, my body goes boneless and my eyes roll back in my head.
He leans over my back, a promise in his voice, “Next, I’ll get you to agree to move in with me, Cupcake.”
“We’ll see,” I barely get the words out, the pleasure coursing through me making me feel weightless and carefree.
His low chuckle brushes against my skin. “I love you, Lara,” reverence fills his words and my heart steadies.
He doesn’t know it yet, but now that he’s walked out of purgatory and found redemption, I’ve already decided we’re moving in.
Jettson calls me his. And I know he’s mine.