by Virna DePaul
From outside, the tattoo shop seems nondescript. It shares the same brick exterior as so many buildings in this city, but above the door is pink neon signage over a white background.
I’ve never been in a tattoo shop before. I’ve been afraid of needles since I was a young kid, but I’m hoping I managed to hide that little fact from Dani when she was giving me shit about that bet.
I exhale and pull myself together before pulling the black glass door open.
A bell rings over my head as I step into the dark space that looks a bit like an art gallery. It’s more upscale than I ever would have imagined, with frames lining the far left wall and recessed lighting offering glimpses of light through patterned darkness.
I step to the front desk and lean over, looking for a bell to alert someone that I’m here. Just as I spot a bell situated on the opposite side of the counter, a woman peels back a black curtain behind the counter and emerges.
She’s stunning, a real head-turner with deep emerald green eyes and curled dark brown hair. She’s tan, with the faintest hint of a tattoo peaking out from underneath the rolled sleeves of her white blouse.
“Can I help you?” she asks with a warm smile, placing both palms on the counter top.
“I’m looking for Dani.”
“Right.” She nods, her eyes taking measure of me. “You don’t look like Dani’s type. Is this business or pleasure?”
I’m startled by her boldness. “Excuse me?”
She just smiles and shakes her head. “Never mind. Look, we technically closed fifteen minutes ago, but silly me forgot to flip the locks.” She steps from around the counter and to the door, holding it open for me. “So, if you want to try again tomorrow—”
“This is terrible customer service,” I say with a smile, but quickly realize she’s not joking. “Is she here or not?”
She sighs and pulls the door shut before crossing her arms. “You’re obviously not here for an appointment and by the looks of it, you’re not going to be setting up one anytime soon.”
“You’re still not answering my question.”
She rolls her eyes then pushes past me, brushing her shoulder against my bicep. “I’ll be back.”
After she disappears behind the black curtains, presumably to grab Dani, I examine some of the art framed against the brick backdrop. Most of the tattoos represented are watercolors. The designs run the gamut from simple and serene to complicated and fantastical. There’s one particular tattoo that sparks my interest in it’s simple beauty: a sky of watercolor clouds with a blue sun’s rays piercing through the pink and purple clouds.
“Do I need to file a restraining order?” A familiar voice says from behind me, and a satisfied grin hitches across my lips as I turn. Dani leans against the counter with her elbow propped against the countertop. She’s wearing a sheer black top exposing a black bra underneath and skin tight jeans that hug her sexy ass curves.
“Why are you ignoring my calls?”
She shrugs and looks over my shoulder. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
The girl from earlier emerges from behind the dark curtains again, this time with her purse over her shoulder. She marches between Dani and I, and heads straight for the door. She cranes her head over her shoulder as she pushes through the glass doors. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Eve.” Dani waves goodbye with a genuine smile before turning back to me with a look of annoyance painted on her lips. “Look, I just finished a long day and I’d like to head home.”
“So you can continue ignoring my calls?”
“Doesn’t feel so great, does it?”
“Ah. Payback?”
She sighs. “No. I’ve just been busy.”
She does look tired. “Why don’t you finish packing up? I’ll walk you out.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Humor me.”
She rolls her eyes and turns, disappearing behind those black curtains. I stand motionless for a second before deciding to follow her to whatever’s behind door number three.
Once on the other side of the curtain, I pause just to get a good look at the place. There are eight work stations, each outfitted with a white curtain hung like a shower curtain around a claw foot bathtub. Black leather chairs, assorted tools of the trade, and Craftsman toolboxes are at each station.
At the very back of the open space is another set of black curtains, which a huge, muscular, bearded and bald man pushes aside as he enters. Every inch of visible skin from his neck down is covered in tattoos and he has a thick nose piercing.
As he approaches Dani and I, he snarls.
“Relax,” Dani tells him. “He’s a friend.”
“Right.” He growls and stares me down. “If you need anything, ring me.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rob.”
He grunts, continuing to stare at me until he disappears out into the front room.
“Scary guy, huh?” Dani taunts.
“No.” I shake my head, lying through my teeth. “I wouldn’t say that at all.”
She steps up to a workstation. I follow suit and peer at the wicked looking tools of her trade. I feel the color drain out of my face and panic runs through me. I blink as I start to feel light headed, and—
“Hunter!”
I hear Dani call my name just about the time I feel someone grab my arm. I blink a few more times until Dani’s face comes into focus again.
“Holy shit,” she says, eyes wide. “You’re afraid of needles.”
“What?” I try snorting and laughing with disdain, but it’s clear from her expression she’s not buying it. I wave my hand. “I’m not fond of needles, no.”
Part of me half expects her to say something nasty, but her expression softens and then she shrugs and turns away. I frown, not liking the feeling that she’s dismissing my fear. Dismissing me.
“Maybe it’s time I face my fear,” I blurt out. Immediately, I mentally cringe, but keep my expression blank so as not to give myself away.
“No need to do it anytime soon.”
“You don’t think I can actually do it?” I don’t want to admit that seeing Mr. Macho just now has me feeling like I have something to prove. To her. To myself.
“What, you think getting a tattoo is gonna sway me to your cause with Chad?”
“Not at all. I’m just surprised, I guess, that I liked some of the work displayed out there so much. Maybe I’d like having a tattoo. Or hell, maybe I’d like a piercing. They say it heightens sexual pleasure, right?”
“I’m not piercing your dick.”
This time I can’t help it and visibly wince. “As if I’d let you anywhere near my dick with a needle,” I shoot back. “But maybe someplace else.”
She reaches forward and lightly pinches the lobe of my right ear, the one she’d pinched much harder after I’d pretended I was going to kiss her. “How do you feel about an ear piercing?”
“I’d rather keep a clean image for my clients.”
“Fine.” She takes a step back and eyes me up and down. A challenge lights her eyes, and it sparks off tremors of excitement in my belly. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?”
“Take off your shirt.”
Slowly, I undo the buttons of my light blue shirt until I can drop it down my shoulders, and then tug my white tee over my head. Her eyes get lost somewhere between my firm chest and my ripped stomach. I can’t help but grin as I notice the way she looks at me, the same way I’ve been looking at her since I first saw her again.
“Now what?”
“How do you feel about a nipple piercing?” she says with a wicked smile that tells me she’s just joking. That she expects me to chicken out any second now.
How do I feel? Like I’d sooner have my balls in a vice than let anyone, even her, stick a needle in my nipple.
Obviously reading my expression, she shakes her head and waves her hand. “Got it. Never mind. It does hurt like hell, s
omething I know first-hand.”
I swallow hard as my gaze drops to her chest. I see no sign that her nipples are pierced, but then again she’s wearing a bra. God, I need to see them. Touch and taste them. But first, I have to respond to the challenge she’s thrown down.
“Let’s do it.”
Her eyebrows pop up in surprise. “Hunter, you don’t have to—”
“Baby, you want to talk or you want to hurt me? I know you’re just chomping at the bit to do it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she mutters almost so softly I don’t hear her.
“What was that?”
She stares at me, then presses her lips together. “Fine. You want to play chicken? Sit down.”
Damn, there’s something about the way she seems to think she’s in control that turns me on.
I purse my lips, asking myself if I’m really going to go through with this, but when she cocks a brow at me, I sit.
“Good boy,” she purrs after I slip down into the chair, the leather cool against my back.
She digs in the top drawer of the toolbox and produces a pre-packaged set of needles and then turns to me. I just about swallow my entire throat into my stomach, but try to remain brave on the outside. The last thing I can have is her thinking I’m weak.
She purses her lips as she slides her hands into a pair of latex gloves. The smacking of the latex against her flesh makes my cock skip.
“Are you sure about this, Hunter? Because like I said, you don’t have to—”
“I want to do it.” Inside, I’m panicking a little, but how bad can it be? “Hell, pierce them both.”
“How about we just stick to one for now?” She turns to me and pushes a silver cart beside me. She places the packaged kit onto the tray, and then soaks a paper towel with alcohol.
“This is going to be cold.” Gently, she swipes my left nipple clean with the alcohol and then throws the towel into the trash.
While she’s turned away, I exhale a series of short breaths trying to prepare myself for what’s to come. I haven’t had a needle near me since the last time I received shots in college, but I can’t tell her that. She’ll pounce right on my fears and take advantage of them.
When she finally turns back to me with the needle in hand, my vision goes blurry. It takes all the manly strength I have in my entire soul to remain conscious.
"Jesus, you look like you've seen a ghost! You sure you want to go through with this?"
“Shit,” I chuckle. “You’re just going to call me out like that?” I shake my head defiantly. “Nah, I’m good.”
There's no way I’m backing down. I can't let her think I'm weak. For some reason, I need to prove to her I’m just as manly as Rob. Hell, maybe, for the first time in my life, I’m feeling the need to prove it to myself. Because this chick is seriously messing with my head in ways no one ever has.
She rolls her eyes again, and uses her elbow to push stray strands of hair from her face. She’s silent, as if she’s a predator or something, as she approaches and when she finally pinches my nipple tight with a latex-covered hand, I have no choice left but to force my eyes closed.
“Okay, take a deep breath.”
I do what she says, even as I feel my toes curling in my shoes, bracing for the pain.
Fucking hell, what have I gotten myself into?
6
Dani
He looks so much different with his eyes closed and his face flushed red. His manliness and crazy good looks are tempered somewhat by a vulnerability that, if anything, makes him even more gorgeous. Carefully, I insert the needle, being efficient but gentle. Of course, he winces anyway. My stomach clenches and I barely stop myself from making a soothing sound or even weirder, bending down to kiss his forehead.
Even though he agreed to this, I hate that I’m causing him pain. Hate that I might have contributed to goading him into proving his manliness somehow. I’d like to say I don’t understand men. That I don’t get why they always have to act tough.
But that really would be like the kettle calling the pot black.
Men don’t have a monopoly on pretending they can withstand pain.
For a moment, I’m weary. Once again, I want to comfort him. I want to take him in my arms. I want him to do the same to me. But who am I kidding? We are engaged in a battle, one where my brother’s future is at stake, and for that reason I will not surrender. Once the needle is pushed all the way through, I murmur, “That’s the worst of it.”
He’s trying to hide how much it hurts—and I’ve seen tough ass men pass the hell out the second the needle punctures their nipple. I place a barbell into his nipple and then pull the needle free. “And just like that we’re done.”
His eyes flash open and he blinks several times. “Awesome.” He grunts in pain. “Didn’t even hurt.” For a few seconds, he peers down at his freshly pierced nipple, which I have to admit looks sexy as hell, before he sits up. “Now why the hell are you ignoring my calls?”
Wow, I think to myself. He really wants me to answer his damn calls.
“I need to put a bandage on you. Then I’m gonna pack up my—”
He grabs my arm to stop me from moving away. My eyes drift up to his, and there’s a storm brewing in his eyes. A storm of lust and wanting.
“My calls, Dani.” His voice is soft but demanding.
“Um, well…” I force a smile and break away from his touch. I struggle for a plausible reason, when in truth, the reason I haven’t called him back is I’m struggling with how attracted I am to him. I don’t fucking know why. He’s not my type. He’s the furthest thing from it. I like my men tattooed and pierced. I like my men bad.
Everything I know about Hunter screams he’s a bad boy, just not the type I’m used to.
So there it is, there’s the reason I’m ignoring his calls. I don't trust him. Period. And I certainly don't trust myself.
“What’s the matter, Dani?” he taunts. “You running from how I make you feel? Because if it helps, you’ve been making me feel a whole lot since we’ve met.”
Yes, I want him. Badly. In a way I don't understand. But there's no way I’m going to admit it to him.
When I remain silent, he sighs. “So you asked about my nipple piercing. Does that mean I can ask about yours?”
I cock a brow.
“What kind of metal do you have? Hoops?”
“Sometimes. Currently I have bars.”
“Can I see?”
I laugh. “You just never give up, do you?”
“Not when I really want something, Dani,” he growls. “And I really want you.”
“Do you now? Or do you really want Chad, because I believe that's the real reason we're talking—” I turn away, mostly because I can’t stand how sexy he looks sitting there shirtless.
But Hunter grabs my hand and forces me to look at him. “I want to sign Chad, but that’s not what this is about. I won't bullshit you, Dani, because you're not the type of woman who falls for that crap. So I'll be blunt. No, you're not my type. Not my typical conquest. You're different, and I like that. I like you, but more than that, I'm craving this body of yours and I know you're craving mine. What would be so wrong about us having a little fun?”
I feel myself growing wetter by the second. I so badly want to fight him, to tell him to fuck off. Instead, I pull my hand out of his and softly touch the faint bruise by his eye. It’s almost gone, but…
“Does your eye still hurt?”
“The pain ebbs and flows.”
Bullshit, I think to myself, but I’ll play along. “Maybe I should kiss it,” I whisper, and place one hand on the side of the leather chair. Again, it feels like I’ve just started a game of chicken, but the truth is, I’m just saying what I want for once.
“Maybe you should,” he says. “And I could return the favor. Kiss you where it hurts the most.” He taunts me with his dark eyes, pulling me in with the most seductive of looks. “Nothing to do with your brother. Let’s just ha
ve some fun.”
“I don’t need you to kiss anything of mine.” My heart thumps against my chest, racing on adrenaline and lust. “I don’t need—”
“Yes, you do.” He reaches for my hand again, pulling me down into his lap. I’m careful to not brush against his freshly pierced nipple. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“You’re full of shit.” But I can’t bring myself to escape his lap, to crawl away from him. I can’t bring myself to commit fully to the lie. “You should leave,” I say very unconvincingly.
“I don't think that's what you want. Not really.”
“Really?” I steady one palm on his tan shoulder. “You think you know what I want more than I do?”
“Like I said, I can see it in your eyes.” He combs one hand through my hair and stares into my eyes for what feels like an eternity. I'm in his lap, his erection is pressing against me and it takes everything in me to not kiss him. But I can't give in. I can't.
“You want me to kiss you, Dani. Just say it for me, and I'll make it happen. I'll give you everything you've ever wanted and more.”
“I—” I want to tell him to fuck off, but the way he's speaking to me sets off every switch in my body, turning me on until it’s almost painful. Most men are intimidated by me. They expect me to be the dominant one in bed. But Hunter is different. It’s clear he wants to dominate me, and that he’d make me love every second of it. “I want you to kiss me.”
The words escape my lips before I even realize what's happening, and Hunter listens. He presses those delicious lips to mine and literally takes my breath away.
It feels wrong. Precisely because it feels so right. So intimate. I break away from his kiss and climb to my feet.
Hunter just looks at me, and for a moment, I forget everything—all my fears, all my doubts, everything. He looks at me as if I'm the sexiest damn woman he's ever seen, and truth be told, in that moment he makes me believe it.
How can I let this opportunity pass me by? Why can’t I be daring for once? Reckless?
