by J. L. Beck
“Bishop,” Ivy whines, clinging to my side like glue.
“Shhh, Bambi, we’re almost there.” We go around the corner, and my shop comes into view. Smokin’ Guns Tattoo hangs over the front of the shop in big bright letters. I look down at Ivy as we walk a little closer to it, and smile when she finally realizes where we are.
“You brought me to your shop?” She seems shocked, as if I could do anything in my life ever again without her.
“Yes. This place is yours too now. It’s an extension of me, and I want you to know all about me, every single little detail.” When we reach the door, I open it for her and usher her inside. Her eyes go wide as she takes in the scenes around her. I follow her gaze as she inspects the large painted pictures on the wall.
“Did you paint this?”
“Some of it,” I tell her, pointing out my own work. “I painted all of these over here, but a lot of them are from the other artists in the shop.”
“You are very talented. I mean…these are incredible, but I like yours the best.” She grins.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to the crew.” I usher her through the shop into the drawing room. Lilly looks up through her purple-rimmed glasses when we enter the room, her bright red hair illuminated by the light coming from the drawing table.
“Hi,” she greets in surprise. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
“I wasn’t planning on it until this morning. I wanted to show Ivy the shop and let her meet everyone.” I look down at Bambi, who eyes Lilly curiously. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking right now. I hope she isn’t jealous, because she doesn’t have a goddamn thing to worry about.
“Ivy, this is Lilly. Lilly, this is Ivy, my girlfriend,” I introduce them.
“Nice to meet you, Ivy. I didn’t know he was dating anyone. It's about time. I was starting to wonder if he had turned gay or something,” Lilly tells Ivy, making her giggle.
Fuck, I love that sound.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Ivy responds, her voice sweet as ever. Lilly goes back to her drawing, and I show Ivy around the rest of the shop. Dave’s door is closed when we pass it, and I hear the familiar buzzing sounds of a tattoo machine at work.
“Dave is with a customer. You’ll meet him another time. Just try to remember if the door is closed, it means they don’t want anyone to come in.” Ivy raises her eyebrows, confusion marring her features. I realize then I need to explain more.
“Sometimes our customers have specific tastes and they like to get tattoos in places that are a little less traditional than the arm, or leg—places that require them to take some, or most, of their clothes off.”
“Oh…” Within her features I see all the things her pretty little mind is conjuring up right now, and I never want her to think I would cross a line or do something to jeopardize what we have. So, to put her at ease, I continue to explain.
“I hired Lilly because it’s good to have a female artist in the shop, especially for that, but also because it makes any female customers feel more secure about coming in to get a tattoo. Plus, most women would not sit there braless with their tits out in front of man to get a back tattoo. I rarely tattoo girls in more intimate places, and even when I do, I keep it strictly professional. I would never fuck with what we have for something like that. You know that, right?”
“I trust you, Bishop. I know that might be weird to say, but I really do.” She has no idea what her words do to me—how much elation and love they bring me. I’m weak for her, cut off at the fucking knees, and I’ll do anything to keep her happy with a smile on her face.
“Come. The tour isn’t over. I saved the best for last.” I guide her to my own work station, surprised by how excited I am to show it to her. I open the door and usher her in.
“This is my room, where I tattoo. I’m hoping someday you’ll let me bring you in here and I can tattoo on you.” There are multiple framed pictures of all the larger pieces I’ve done hanging on the black painted brick wall.
She looks around with a huge smile on her face and sits down on the chair in the center of the room. “What would you tattoo on me if I were to let you? And where would you tattoo it?” she asks, a curiosity in her eyes.
Mine.
“Whatever you want me to, wherever you want me to... I would love to put something right above your pretty little pussy. Something like, Property of Bishop.”
“Hmmm, I’m going to have to think about it. It’s rather tempting seeing as I truly am your property now.”
She’s got my cock hard, tempting me with such an image. Me between her legs, the buzzing of the tattoo machine as I tattoo her creamy white flesh in bold lettering that all but stakes my claim on her.
“Soon, I’m going to marry you, Ivy. I’m going to put a baby deep inside your belly and give you something to smile about every single day. I’ll cherish your pussy, spank your ass when you’re bad, and wipe away every single tear you cry.”
“You mean that?” She looks like she might break out into tears. I don’t want her to cry, not after last night.
“Every. Fucking. Word. Bambi,” I enunciate, so she knows I mean it. “I’ll make sure you feel wanted and loved. I’ll make sure you’re safe, and that no one touches you. Running away was your only option before, but now you have me, and I’ll do anything and everything I can for you.”
In a second, she’s up, rushing into my arms, pressing up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. Her lips press against mine, and a raging fire engulfs my entire body.
“I love you, Bishop. I love you so much, it almost hurts,” she whispers against my lips, and I cup her by the cheek, wanting to taste every single inch of her flesh. She’s got me crazy with need, all the blood inside my body rushing straight to my cock.
“I love you too, Bambi, and as soon as we get home, I want you naked and spread out on our bed. Head down, ass up. I’m claiming that tight little asshole.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip, giving me doe eyes, and I’d bet anything her cunt’s dripping with need right now. Too bad we have to go see her asshole fucking parents right now.
“Claim it. Claim all of me. You already own all the best parts of me.”
And fuck if that’s not the truth. I own her heart, just as she owns mine.
41
Ivy
We walk into the ritzy restaurant where my parents ordered me to show up. I cringe knowing Bishop and I will stick out like sore thumbs. He’s in his ripped blue jeans and a white t-shirt, the black ink on his arms on full display. I’m wearing a t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans we picked up from Target, along with a pair of sandals. It’s a long way from the dresses my parents would force me to wear every single day.
I walk up to the hostess with Bishop’s hand in my own. I’m a nervous ball of energy, but know all will be well the second I get this done and over with.
“Hi, I’m with the Young reservation.” I greet the woman with a smile, and she returns it before looking down at the screen in front of her.
“Yes. Right this way.” She walks us to the table, and a part of me wonders if my parents picked such a ritzy place just to make a scene.
As we get closer to the table, I see my parents. My father’s face is a permanent scowl while my mother picks at her well-manicured nails as if she’s bored.
Bishop must sense how nervous I am. He leans down and whispers into my ear, “Relax, Bambi. They don’t have a hold on you anymore. You’re your own person—you’re Ivy.” His words soothe the ache in my chest and give me the courage to keep walking toward the table. I feel my insides incinerate when my mother’s gaze meets mine. She nudges my father with her elbow and stands to greet us.
“Oh, Ivy, it’s so good to see you.” Her eyes move away from me to Bishop with judgement in her them; the disgust written on her features is plain as day.
“Bishop,” he introduces himself without holding his hand out like my parents would expect.
“You must be the rude man who kidna
pped my daughter. I could have you arrested. It would be so easy for them to see you as the criminal you are.”
My mother’s words snap me out of the fog of anxiety surrounding me.
“Do not talk to him like that or I will get up and walk out of here right now,” I scold her, my threat hanging in the air between us.
My mother sneers, and my father ushers her to sit in her chair.
“Ivy, you’ve caused a rather large issue and cost us, as well as Joseph, thousands of dollars. However, he has still agreed to take you as his wife. I hope you’re ready to stop playing games…”
I glance at Bishops and see his jaw tightened.
“She’s not marrying Joseph. He fucked another woman on what was supposed to be their wedding day. He doesn’t love her, I do,” Bishop growls, and my father’s gaze swings to meet his green eyes.
“Excuse me, but you’re nothing but a low life. Look at you. You kidnapped our daughter and brainwashed her.” My father adjusts his tie, his beady eyes piercing mine, demanding me to follow his orders.
“I’m not marrying Joseph. I love Bishop, and I will be leaving here with him. I simply showed up to prove I am still alive and haven’t been taken against my will.”
“Did he rape you? Force himself on you?” My mother jumps in, and I can hardly breathe. I cannot believe she would say such things about Bishop.
His grip tightens in mine, and I know he’s close to losing it.
“He didn’t rape me...” My mother’s normally angelic face flips into a mask of fury.
“Joseph will never take you back if you’ve given yourself to this low life piece of—”
“I don’t want Joseph to take me back. I never wanted him in the first place. I am not marrying him, and I will not tell you again.” I release Bishop’s hand and slam my hands down on the table, gathering the attention of the entire room.
My parents’ eyes go wide, wider than I’ve ever seen them before.
“We have been very patient with you, Ivy, but you leave us no choice but to intervene.” Anger consumes me. I find my body is shaking, my blood boiling.
“Leave me alone. Leave Bishop alone. Don’t try to contact me—and don’t ever talk bad about the man I love. You don’t know the first thing about finding someone who’s meant to be yours. All you care about is marrying for namesake and the check that follows.”
“Are you ready?” Bishop asks a moment later, and I nod, having said all I have to say.
“If you walk out of here, we will search for you. We will never let you be free,” my mother yells, drawing more attention. One of the hostesses starts walking toward us, and I know she’s probably going to ask us to leave, but she doesn’t have to, because I’m already on my way out the door.
“If you try to touch her, hurt her in any way, I will destroy you,” Bishop growls, letting the warning stand and leaving my mother looking as if she’s just been slapped. We walk out the front doors of the restaurant without anyone following us, and I feel a sense of relief.
As soon as we get outside and the cold air hits my face, I know I’m free.
Free of their shackles, their rules.
Free to do as I please.
Free to be with the man I love.
I feel like I’ve finally found my own footing, like I’m my own person.
We walk around the corner, and Bishop pulls me into his chest, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I want to kiss him, taste him, crawl deep inside him and sink my claws into him, daring him to try to make me let go.
“I want you…” I can’t even finish my sentence before all hell breaks loose around us. Someone hits Bishop from behind, causing his hold on me to slip. I am sent to the ground, landing harshly against the cold concrete. Bishop’s gaze bleeds into mine, and in the next second, he’s gathering his bearings, turning on the two thugs trying to take us out.
He pulls back his clenched fist and lands a punch to one of the guys before slugging the other in the stomach. They both groan as he kicks the shit out of them, blind fury pouring from him like a wound gushing blood. I shove up from the ground and wrap an arm around his bicep. He calms at my touch, then steps away from the two battered bodies lying in the alleyway.
“If you ever try to fuck with her again, I’ll kill you.” This isn’t a warning or even a threat. It’s a promise.
Fuck with what is his, and he will destroy you.
Taking my hand into his, he guides us back toward the SUV.
“Are you okay, Bambi?” he whispers into my hair, his lips ghosting against my skin, making me shiver. He looks me up and down, moving my chin from side to side and checking my back beneath my shirt.
“I’m okay. How did you—where did you learn how to fight like that?” My heart pounds deep inside my chest as I ask the questions. His movements were fluid, taught—he knew what he was doing.
“Marines. I did four years. They teach you everything you need to know about fighting, including hand to hand combat.”
“How old are you then?”
He grins, opening the car door for me. “Twenty-three. I enlisted when I was seventeen.” I sigh into the leather at his response. Not that his age would change how I feel about him, still, I wouldn't want there to be a ten-year age gap between us. I want all of his time.
He jogs over to the driver’s side of the car and gets in. I can tell he’s still worked up by the way his eyes seem darker, and his hands are still shaking with pent up aggression.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine, now that we’ve got all that out of the way.” He starts the car, and we head off back to his apartment. On the way there, I feel this overwhelming need to apologize for my parents’ actions toward him.
“I’m sorry, Bishop...that my mother judged you and talked down to you like that.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment. Watching him endure the same thing I did for years angers me beyond measure.
“Don’t be sorry. You never have to be sorry with me. Your parents are idiots. It’s them who slung the hateful words and judgement. Don’t apologize for someone else's actions.”
“But, I brought you there—”
Bishop cuts me off with a heated look. “I’m starting to think you want me to take you across my knee and slap your ass cheeks until they’re bright red.”
His filthy mouth and even dirtier words zing straight to my core.
“I want everything. I want you to do everything to me...” And I do. I want everything, all of him, every single part.
“And you’ll have me, forever and always, Bambi. You’re no longer a runaway bride. Now, you’re mine, property of Bishop.”
I laugh, but it’s true. I’m no longer running. I’ve found my forever—my happily ever after.
Epilogue
“Hands and knees, Bambi,” I order, landing a hard smack on her ass. She mewls into the bed sheets, attempting to keep her ass in the air. Her effort is adorable, and I land another slap to her other ass cheek, watching as her pussy throbs, her sweet honey dripping down her creamy white thighs. She fists the sheets, and her body shakes as I trail my fingers down her spine.
“Your pussy is begging to choke my cock, begging to be impaled,” I growl.
“Please, Bishop. Please…” I smile, my cock hardening to the point of pain.
“Please what? What do you want me to do with my big fat cock?” I grip my throbbing member and slide it against her slick slit.
“Please, fuck me…” she begs, and pushes back so my throbbing cock slides right into her soaked pussy. For a moment, I force myself to be still, letting her take control. She keeps pushing herself into me, fucking me instead of letting me fuck her. It feels so fucking amazing. I look down and watch her pussy swallow my dick, her ass bouncing on my cock. But I need more. I need to pound her tight little hole—hard.
Grabbing hold of her hips, I slam into her, pulling her ass into my groin every time I thrust forward. Ivy drops her upper body down, but stays on her knees so her ass is still pushed up in the a
ir. She buries her face into the pillow, muffling her cries of pleasure. Her small hands reach around her for something to hold onto, but all she finds is the flimsy sheet.
“Look at me,” I growl. When she looks back at me over her shoulder, I lean forward and hold two fingers to her lips. “Suck!”
She parts her lips on command, and I thrust my fingers into her mouth. As soon as she closes her lips around them and starts sucking like it’s my dick, I groan. Her tongue swirls around, caressing my fingers like it's the best fucking thing she’s ever had in her mouth.
I thrust my finger deeper, all the way to the back of her throat, until she starts gagging. When my fingers are nicely coated with her thick saliva, I pull them out. Her head drops back into the pillow, and I straighten.
I bring my wet fingers to her ass and push one in slowly. The tight ring of muscle grips onto my finger. I push in until I’m knuckle deep inside her tight hole, then I finger-fuck her.
When I feel her adjust enough and relax into me, I add a second finger, and then I start going deeper, as deep as I can with my fingers alone. I continue pounding into her at a furious pace. My balls slap against her clit with every thrust, and it’s not long before her pussy quivers around me, her walls squeezing as she comes all over my cock.
“Bishop…” she screams my name, and I fucking love it.
“Fuck…” Is all I can manage to get out.
I’m so fucking out of breath, I feel like I just ran a marathon. I slow down just enough so I can talk.
“You want me to fuck your asshole like that? Pound into your tight ass, stretch it out and use you like the slut you are?” With every filthy word coming out of my mouth, her pussy squeezes me tighter.
