Saved by the Dark

by Ann Jensen

  “Yeah, darlin’. He needs to be outside on watch. Unless something’s wrong, you shouldn’t be asking him inside, even for breakfast.”

  “But I–”

  “I’ll head back out now,” Kickstand cut in, giving a nod as he headed out the front door.

  Pixie looked confused and concerned between the door and him. “Sharp, I–”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll be back for lunch and you’ll get to watch Ink torture me for his art.”

  She smiled, the first real smile since he joined her in the kitchen. “What should I wear?”

  Sharp shook his head. Only a woman would worry about what to wear to a tattoo parlor. He looked at her yellow-as-sunshine dress with the scoop neck and tiny straps that were so innocent and sexy all at the same time. They were going to be riding his bike and the image of her skirt blowing up, giving people a glance at her legs and ass, had his dick coming to full attention. “I like what you’re wearing. In deference to that sweet pussy and the length of the drive you can put panties on.”

  Her nipples tightened, beautifully visible under the light fabric. “Okay.”

  Fuck, this was going to be a long ride.

  Chapter 22

  I licked it so it is mine!

  It was hell but Sharp managed to finish up his work in just a few hours. He held the boxes containing the items he had ordered for Pixie as he walked into their house. Being nervous wasn’t something he was used to. The boxes contained what were the physical representation of accepting becoming his Old Lady. Every Dark Son gave their women similar gifts after they received that title.

  He wanted her to love each item and understand just how important they were. “Where are you, darlin’?” Sharp called out as he walked through the front door. He placed his packages on the kitchen counter.

  He heard Pixie hurrying down the stairs right before he saw her. Like a sparkle of light, she was breathtaking. She hadn’t changed out of her adorable as fuck sundress, but she had added short leggings that peeked out the bottom of her skirt. He couldn’t resist wrapping his hand around her neck and pulling her towards him, taking her mouth with a hungry kiss.

  “I’m ready.” The breathiness of her voice told him she was ready for more than just the ride to the tattoo shop. He picked her up so she sat on the counter, putting them almost eye to eye.

  “I got you some presents.” Sharp kissed her nose and gestured to the boxes on the counter. The over-the-top shock on her face made him want to hurt the people in her previous life who had taught her never to expect anything.

  “Really?” She clasped her hands tightly, staring hungrily at the boxes as if afraid to touch them.

  He handed her the smallest box and chuckled as she tore open the cardboard. It was the least personal of the gifts, a new smartphone. It was pre-programed with all the Brothers’ numbers and would allow her to have a way to communicate at all times.

  “This is too much,” Pixie started to protest. Sharp placed a thumb over her lips, quieting her.

  He tipped her chin up so he was looking deep into her eyes. “Of all the things I ever want to hear from you about gifts, none of them will ever include cost or whether or not you deserve them.” He planted a gentle kiss on her lips. “You are my woman and deserve everything under the sun.”

  Pixie blushed, her lips still slightly parted. “Okay.”

  Sharp leaned back a bit and handed her the biggest box. She giggled and lifted off the lid, her voice escaping in an ‘oh’ as she saw what was inside. A black leather cut was laying in the box, folded so the Dark Sons emblem was displayed. Sharp saw Pixie’s hand tremble as she brushed her fingertips over the patch that read ‘Property of Sharp’. His woman looked up, her eyes shining with tears.

  “Can I put it on?” Her voice was quiet but full of such hope, Sharp knew she really meant it.

  He pulled it out of the tissue paper and felt a wave of possessive pride as he saw the black leather slip over her innocent as shit little dress. His dick felt like it was trying to punch through his jeans. It fit her perfectly, her name on her chest and his on her back. He almost forgot there was one more gift to go. The cut was the most important gift to most Brothers, an open sign to the world that their woman was claimed, but to him what was in the last box meant so much more.

  He grabbed it himself, opening the lid and tilting it towards her. Sitting on fluffy cotton was a titanium choker, the thick links almost bordering on masculine. A round pendant hung from the front engraved with a beautiful fairy on one side and ‘Sharp’s little Pixie’ on the back. Instead of the usual clasp for the back, a small decorative-looking padlock made of the same metal as the necklace held the jewelry together.

  Pixie’s eyes widened and her fingertips were held against her lips as if she was trying to hold back her words. Sharp pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked it. He took the necklace in his hands, letting her study the pendant and take in the meaning of the unusual clasp. What he wasn’t telling her was all three items he brought her today were altered by Tek to hold trackers that could be traced from almost anywhere. Only the officers knew every Old Lady was tracked this way and for safety reasons that was how it would stay.

  Sharp cleared his throat. “This is it, Pixie. I gave you my Cut. When I put this on you, there is no going back.” He knew his words were intense, but she needed to know how he felt. “I put this on you, you’re mine and no one else can ever take it off but me.” He moved the necklace forward a little before pausing, waiting for her acceptance.

  She took in a shuddering breath. “I love you, Sharp. It’s fast and messed up in so many ways but it’s right. We’re right. I want to be yours.” Her eyes sparkled. “You’re my Old Man, no going back.” She lifted her ponytail, inviting him to lock the necklace around her.

  The sound of the lock clicking into place fired his blood. He leaned forward, sinking his teeth into the delicate flesh where her shoulder met her neck, needing to mark her. Pixie’s moan was like a starting bell. His hands gripped the leather of her new cut and he pulled her close. He ran his tongue up her neck, nipping and sucking as he went. He gripped her earlobe in his teeth, growling the only word he could think.

  “Mine.”

  “God, yes, Sharp!”

  He reached under her skirt, pulling off her leggings and her underwear with a jerk, tossing them behind him. Sharp freed his aching cock and dragged her right to the edge of the countertop, pushing up her skirt so he could see the wet aching bounty that waited for him. Not willing to wait a second longer he lined them up, pulling her onto him as he thrust forward with a brutal stroke. She was so tight he groaned, the feel of her slick heat the exact thing he wanted.

  Her cries echoed around him like sweet music as he controlled their motions with a firm grip, thrusting to the perfect rhythm of his heartbeat. He tangled his mouth against hers, needing and wanting to make every part of them as close as they could get.

  “Please.” Sharp didn’t know what she was begging for, but his own need drove him to pound deeper, needing to feel the end of her. He had to become one with her. The tempo was frenetic and when he felt her tighten around him, he growled with the primal desire to match their release perfectly. This would not be long or drawn out. It was a claiming on the most basic of levels.

  “You wait for me, Pixie. Don’t you dare come until I tell you to.”

  Pixie gasped and her struggle played across her face in an exquisite display of conflict. Sharp pushed her back, laying her down over the countertop like a beautiful feast. Her dress, the cut, the necklace, and her soaking pussy all added up to his version of heaven.

  He let off the brakes, slamming into her with a force and rhythm that should have broken her in half, but she met him stroke for stroke. Her moans turned to screams of ecstasy as she fought back her orgasm. Sparks of pleasure started at the base of his spine and he knew it was time. He wanted to hold back, make this last, but it wasn’t going to be possible.<
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  “Now, darlin’. Fuck... You’re mine, love. I want you to come all over my cock.”

  With his words she bucked against him, her body going wild, and he lost all semblance of control, giving himself over to the animal pleasure that was the two of them becoming one. His orgasm ripped through him and he gripped her hips so hard he had no doubt that she would have bruises.

  She was his and Sharp would never let anyone take her away from him.

  Chapter 23

  Now you see it… Then it’s mine.

  Kickstand and Max waved to Sharp as they pulled back onto the road. They would return in a few hours to escort Pixie and him back to the Clubhouse. It was unnecessary for them to stay since there were more than enough Brothers in and around Ink’s shop. He took a moment to enjoy the feel of his Old Lady pressed against his back. Life was crazy but he couldn’t be happier that he had managed to find someone who was so perfect and patch her as his own.

  “Where are they going?” Pixie asked as she swung off his bike.

  “Back to the Clubhouse.” Sharp followed behind her and pulled her into his arms, loving her tiny and delicate body against his front. His cock stiffened and he wondered if he could convince her to spend some time with him at the back of the shop. Last night she had seemed to love fucking in public as much as he had but so far this morning the wild Banshee of last night was nowhere to be seen.

  “Why did they ride all the way down here to then head back?” Her ponytail bobbed as she cocked her head in confusion.

  “Security.” Sharp bit back a laugh when Pixie started looking around as if someone was going to jump out at her. Sharp took her chin in his hands and placed a light kiss on her lips. “Just a precaution.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have stayed home.” The fear in his woman’s voice tore at him.

  “You’re safe. See those bikes?” He nodded to a row of five bikes lined up next to his. “All Brothers. They have customers, but this place belongs to the Dark Sons and no one would mess with you while we’re here.”

  He wished she had more faith in his ability to keep her safe, but that would take time. Pixie gave him an unsure smile and he couldn’t help but lean down and taste her pink lips again. Tension leaked out of her as he deepened the kiss and his cock pulsed against his zipper. He nipped at her bottom lip, loving the soft moan the action elicited, and wished he could find them somewhere private right at that moment.

  “Sooner we get inside, the faster I can get you home.”

  Dark Ink had been in business almost as long as the Dark Sons had been in Colorado. Even more popular than his garage, Hannibal and Ink drew customers from around the country with their unique and detailed designs. The place was meticulously clean for what was considered a biker business. Five stations – the majority of them occupied at the moment – made up the front of the shop and two privacy booths were hidden at the back. Everything in Dark Ink was chrome and black, giving it a retro feel. The color in the place came from the people and large photographs on the walls. Each station had photographs of the artist’s best work proudly on display. Up front near the register in a place of honor was a larger-than-life print of Hawk’s back piece.

  The tattoo deserved its own wall. Ink had done the main Dark Sons Logo, but every artist here had added to it, somehow keeping cohesion while highlighting their own styles. Pixie stood staring at the image like it was the Mona Lisa and Sharp couldn’t hide his amused smile.

  “Sharp, you tired old squid.” Hannibal’s deep bayou-accented voice cut through the classic rock that played over the speakers. The tattoo artist was cleaning up his station while a young customer slipped on his shirt over a bandage that covered his upper arm. From the look of the kid, he was either recently out of boot camp or about to head in.

  Hannibal was a large, overly muscular, bald man with darkness dusting his skin. That combined with his sweet Louisiana drawl let no one doubt his Creole heritage. The man was a walking advertisement for his work with piercings and elaborate tattoos covering all but his face. Sharp stepped away from Pixie and clasped forearms with his longtime friend.

  “Ink should be done in the back soon. Got a shy bird getting a flower on her ass.” Hannibal nodded towards the closed curtain at the back.

  “He must be in heaven,” Sharp snorted.

  “He does love a woman from the rear. Speaking of heaven, is this the woman who finally proved once and for all you are a shitty excuse of a sniper?” Hannibal winked before turning to face Pixie.

  “Excuse me?” Sharp loved the indignant tone and look on his woman’s face.

  Hannibal flashed a charming smile her way. “Now don’t get your feathers in a fluff, cher. Snipers are supposed to be observant and I hear you lifted his gun off his belt. If a bitty thing like you can pull one over on him what does that say about the quality of SEAL snipers?”

  Pixie’s face reddened and her eyes narrowed at his Cajun Brother. He might not like Hannibal using creole endearments on his woman, but it was freaking adorable; she looked like she might start swinging at the Louisiana man. “Don’t mind him. Poor guy was a lowly Ranger Sniper and we all know grunts got the short end of the intelligence stick.”

  “Oh.” The flame died in her eyes and was replaced by a strange glint Sharp wasn’t sure how to read. He was sure he would learn all of her looks soon enough but this one was new. Pixie leaned in and began inspecting Hannibal’s arms. “I don’t see a Ranger tattoo.”

  Hannibal stood and turned his left arm, displaying his Death Before Dishonor black work. Pixie stepped forward, reaching out a hand.

  “Can I touch it?”

  His Brother nodded and she reached over, brushing her fingers over the tattoo. Sharp smiled, glad that Pixie was quickly relaxing around the giant man. It was important to him that she felt comfortable with his Brothers. She traced a few tattoos further down his arm and then her gaze caught on a picture high up on the wall.

  “Is that one yours? It’s beautiful!”

  Sharp turned and looked along with Hannibal to the picture she indicated. The artist nodded. “The Phoenix? Yeah, that’s mine.”

  “Did you do the sunset on Sharp’s back? The style looks the same.” Pixie’s voice was filled with excessive excitement and Sharp started to wonder what she was getting up to.

  “Good eye, cher. That’s my work.”

  Then Pixie surprised them both by giggling and giving Hannibal a hug from behind that was strong enough to sway the bigger man. “I love that one.” She released him and wandered a few steps away, playing with her skirt while she stared up at the other photos on the wall. She continued her slow stroll until she was on the other side of his chair and Sharp’s instincts said something was not quite right.

  “Ou byen fè! I see why you patched that one so fast. She’s like sunshine in a tiny bottle.” Hannibal rocked back on his heels shaking his head.

  Sharp nodded, trying to figure out what she was up to.

  “I would love to get a tattoo.” Pixie swirled her skirt a bit and Sharp couldn’t help imagining flipping the little cotton up and bending her over the chair.

  “What would you get, darlin’?” Sharp asked, loving the idea of seeing ink on her skin. Maybe he could convince her to get his name on the small of her back.

  “I always wanted to do the angel-devil thing on each shoulder. But now I think a pixie and a banshee fits better.” Pixie fingered the pendant at the base of her throat and Sharp was once again grateful Tek had done something special for his woman.

  “I think that would look amazing.” Sharp smiled, trying to get his dick under control.

  “You let me know when, cher. I would love to get my needles on you.” Sharp would have been jealous at the flirting tone in Hannibal’s voice, but the Cajun didn’t mean anything by it.

  Pixie seemed to think for a moment, then smiled. “How about a bet?”

  “What are we betting on?” Hannibal smiled and looked interested.

  “If I manage to lift
your wallet,” she paused thinking, “or any other item from your body, you do a tattoo on me for free.”

  Hannibal gave a deep belly laugh, getting the attention of everyone in the shop. “You’re on, baby girl. One tattoo for every item you get, but if you don’t manage to get anything by the time you leave, I get to pierce the body part of Sharp’s choosing.”

  Pixie’s eyes hooded and her lips parted as she imagined getting something pierced. Sharp was going to have to find out what picture was in her mind because it apparently had her turned on and he wanted to know everything that put that look on her face. To him, it was a win-win bet, though having to wait while any of his favorite parts healed wasn’t appealing.

  “It’s a bet.” Her voice was breathy with desire and she shook her head as if clearing out dirty fantasies.

  Hannibal clapped his hand and several people chuckled. “Good luck, cher. I grew up in the bayou on top of being a trained–”

  Hannibal’s words were cut off as Sharp’s devious, beautiful woman tossed a wallet down on the chair. The Ranger’s jaw dropped when a string of condoms followed. A low cheer echoed in the front room followed by masculine chuckles as Pixie gently laid a .45 on the seat and dangled a chunky men’s watch off one finger.

  “A trained what?” Pixie’s eyes twinkled.

  Hannibal looked down at his wrist in complete disbelief. “Fuck!” Everyone in the room burst into renewed laughter.

  Pixie tossed Hannibal his watch. She felt like she was on cloud nine. Not only had she been able to defend Sharp’s reputation, but she had won at least four tattoos from an extremely talented artist. The pictures on the walls showed bright beautiful images which were amazingly detailed. Some looked more like photographs on skin rather than ink.