CHAPTER ELEVEN
Four days later
– XANE –
“Any news?” Z asks as I step into the room.
She’s sitting in the chair next to the bed, the place I’ve been sleeping in since I rescued her.
Thank fuck she doesn’t jump and cringe away whenever someone comes near.
I know Lynn is the one who soothed those urges.
Lynn and Z have been talking every day since she got here, and it shows in all aspects.
Z visibly feels more at ease in this room, and having me in this space as well. She’s left this room a few times, to go into the kitchen, the main room, my office, and church. Though, she’s completely stressed when she does and looks like she wants to bolt any chance she gets.
Maybe I shouldn’t share every bit of information.
Some might say it’ll keep the fear alive and not knowing might be better.
On the other hand, I don’t want to keep her in the damn dark.
Ramiro shoved her into darkness for days and dimmed her light until there was only a flicker left.
Eight damn days with that man will take fuck knows how long to overcome the damage he’s done.
I walk to the closet to grab my bag with the equipment I need when I tell her, “Roux is still busy mapping out Neron’s financials he used for buying the property here in town. We’ve found two people he’s working with, and we’re looking into them too.”
“Okay...and...” She doesn’t have to finish her sentence for me to know who she wants to know about.
“Still breathing,” I grit, unable to mask the anger I feel toward the fucker.
Silence falls between us as I start to set up.
Z clears her throat and whispers, “Am I getting the tattoo Spence mentioned?”
Taking a seat in front of the small desk in the corner, I turn to face her and ask, “Are you ready for yours? I was thinking about inking myself first.”
Her eyes go wide and she starts to sputter. “You...you were...you’re going to ink yourself?”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “I’ve been a tattoo artist for over five years.”
She frowns. “I remember all those sketches you used to make when we were growing up, but how did you go from drawing on paper to tattooing skin?”
“Spence’s brother, Archer, is also an artist and the president of the Broken Deeds chapter their family founded.
They have their own tattoo shop, and we also opened one.
Hawks, a brother from the New Jersey chapter, is also a tattoo artist and piercer.
He pierced my cock because he needed the experience, and I wasn’t using my cock for fucking anyway.
The asshole made me get a Jacob’s ladder too, and in return I inked his back.
Fuck, but that hurt like a motherfucker. ”
Z gapes at me. There’s a limit to taking care of her, and the one thing I won’t do is pussyfoot around her by holding my tongue about sex or anything related to it. I shoot her a wink and continue to get things ready.
“Your penis is pierced with a truckload of barbells on the underside?” Her voice is a mere whisper.
My heart skips a beat as if I’m a damn teenager. We’re talking about my cock. The one she had in her hands first, a privilege as the only woman in the whole damn world. It sure isn’t the same one she felt inside her with the added hardware. Just thinking about being inside her makes me damn hard.
One thing makes me smile, though. “You still call it a penis because you’re a doc?”
She rolls her eyes. “They’re patients, I can’t use cock.”
“Good, ’cause the only cock you use is mine.” The words are thrown out there before I can so much as think.
A smirk slides across my face, liking the easy chitchat back and forth. Though, Z’s eyes hit the floor and she takes a step back.
Dammit, I’m such an insensitive dick. “I don’t mean right now or in the near future. Somewhere along the line...when you’re ready. Friends first, Z. Always. I’ll never pressure you into anything you’re not ready for.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“Good.” Focusing my attention on the tattoo gun, I add, “Because I’ll be right here whenever you’re ready.”
Silence surrounds us, and I place the tattoo gun down to grab the stencil.
Her voice is a mere whisper again, and I barely catch the words, “What if I’m never going to be ready?”
I get to my feet and close the distance between us. Thank fuck she doesn’t shy away from me. I’m grateful, and damn proud for some of the strength and trust she regained over the past few days.
Staring into her blue-green eyes, I tell her, “I’m not the young boy from a decade ago.
We gave each other our every first back then, but when I claimed you as my old lady I vowed for you to be my last woman, the way you’ve been my first. Which means I will be faithful.
I won’t lie and am man enough to tell you it sucks I can’t re-claim your pussy as mine.
Though, I can tell you that cold showers along with my hand have been, and will keep being my best friend, for however long it’s going to take.
Ever since I got back to our hometown and saw you, I’ve wanted back what we had.
I made the worst decision of my life when I walked out on us.
I shouldn’t have, and part of it was due to not being able to see the bigger picture.
I didn’t want to be the one who held you back.
Instead, I should have put trust in us, in our strength as partners to grab your hand and fucking be there for whatever future we might have.
So, there’s no way I’d give up a second chance for a few minutes it’ll take to get my cock wet and get off with some nameless, meaningless fuck. ”
Tears are brimming in her eyes and I lean in to gently brush my nose against hers. She doesn’t shy away from me, and it warms my heart to know she trusts me. She damn well knows I’m her safe haven.
“You’re mine as I’m yours. Completely, and always, darlin’,” I murmur.
Her lips brush against mine and it makes my heart skip like the first damn time we kissed. I want to deepen the kiss, take her in my arms and slide my tongue between her lips to ravish her mouth. None of those things are possible because I don’t want to spook her.
What we shared just now is a huge step forward and I’m not going to fuck it up.
It’s why I give her a smile and huskily tease her, “Friends don’t kiss friends, sawbones. I guess you’ve levelled us up already to kissing buddies.”
She shoves my chest and rolls her eyes. Yeah, at least we have a solid history as friends. I’m pretty sure it’s why she accepted my closeness this soon. She knows deep down I won’t hurt her or do anything to breach the level of trust she needs right now.
Chuckling, I walk back to the desk and pick up the stencil again. “Want me to do myself first? Or do you trust me enough to ink your skin with my claim? And just so you know...I’m going to put mine over my heart. You can pick any place on your body, in any size.”
Z bites her bottom lip and I know she’s thinking it through.
She shocks the hell out of me when she says, “I’d like the same spot as Lynn. Maybe not as big as hers and slightly to the back of my neck.”
Lynn left early this morning, and Spence left yesterday because Penny is anxious about giving birth to their first kid. Lynn has her old man’s property patch tattooed on the side of her neck. A bold statement, and I’m pretty sure this is also why Z picked this spot.
My voice is filled with emotion when I croak, “So your hair can cover it when needed, for work and shit.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “And shit.”
“Fuckin’ love the spot, darlin’. But it’s gonna hurt,” I warn.
She eyes the stencil in my hand and finally murmurs, “It’ll be worth it.”
I give her a proud smile and grab the other stencil. “Give me a few minutes to get things ready.”
It takes me a bit longer to change the stencil for her, but she waits patiently right next to me. I have everything set and carefully clean her skin and transfer the stencil to her neck.
“Go and check in the mirror and let me know if the size and spot is exactly what you want,” I tell her.
She moves to the bathroom and walks back into the room a few heartbeats later wearing a huge smile. “Perfect.”
“Perfect,” I echo. “Go lay down on the bed.”
Her eyes go wide and it makes me chuckle. “I can’t ink your neck with the odd angle with you sitting in a chair, Z.”
Understanding dawns and she quickly moves to the bed. I pick up my stuff and move the chair to the bed. I take one last glance at the stencil on her skin to pick the right needle, along with adjusting the voltage for the right speed and power.
It takes a bit of moving and a tiny pillow to have the right pose for her comfort and easy angle for me to work.
Hovering above her skin, I hit the power button of my wireless tattoo machine and tell her, “I’m going to start. Ready?”
“Yes,” she states with determination, and I get to work.