by Tory Baker
“Shut up, Jake. She’s your girlfriend. The least you can do is take them home,” I hear her grumble. I’m light on my feet. My arm reaches her lower back until it molds to her lower hip, right below her tattoo.
“Way to be a slut, Wren,” he admonishes.
“Is there a problem here?” I speak up, knowing the dick saw me coming and watched as Wren’s body melted into me when she felt me.
“Uh, no. But Wren, I’m not coming to pick you up.” With that, he speeds away.
“What a prick. As if I’d ever ask him to pick me up. Heather sure knows how to choose them. Sorry about that. If you’re ready, we can go back inside?” Wren has turned around and is looking at me with softness in her eyes.
“Don’t worry about him. Ready when you are. You going to be able to get home safely tonight?” I question.
“Yeah, I’ll call an Uber or walk home. I’m only a few blocks from here.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, but you aren’t walking home either. That dick gonna be at your place when you get there?” I raise an eyebrow with my question. She gives me a soft smile. “Probably, but I have a lock on my bedroom door, and for the most part, he doesn’t bother me.” I grab her hand, the one not holding her shirt up. My lips find the pulse point on her wrist. I kiss her there once, and then my fucking tongue comes out to play, licking it, allowing my tongue to tease her with how I would if I were down on my knees in front of her. Those shorts out of the way, a leg thrown over my shoulder as my mouth fucks her pussy.
I have a deep-seated need to taste her in every possible way, starting with this. The soft moan she lets out is almost more than I can take. When her fingers graze the scruff on my jawline, I know if I don’t stop this now, I never will.
4
Wren
I’m back on Trick’s table. He’s working on the shading now, and yeah, it may hurt like a bitch at times, but that is not something I will admit to him. Especially because I was the one who was adamant about finishing in only one session.
I hiss when he hits the same spot for the third time.
“I’m not saying I told you so, but I told you so.” Trick stops tattooing me, giving my skin a break.
“Yeah, I know.” I sit up on the arm that was underneath me, causing his eyes to watch me the entire time.
“You want to let this heal, come back in a few weeks?” he offers.
“How much more do you have left to do?” I want to know before I make a decision.
“About an hour. Not gonna lie, your skin is going to be screaming tomorrow. Do you have to work?”
“Nope, tomorrow is my one day off work. I’m going to sleep in and study when I wake up. Other than that, I’ll be a couch potato. What about you?” My skin does need a break, but I know if I don’t finish this, I probably won’t come back with the way my schedule is.
“Sundays mean dinner at my parents’, with my brothers, Branagan, Cillian, and Sean. You’ve probably met them all, seeing how you were at Kelly’s earlier today. Sometimes we all take shifts behind the bar to help out. For the most part, it’s mainly my parents.” The softness in his tone tells me he loves it even though he’s rolling his eyes.
“That’s really sweet. I’m sure they love having their boys at home.”
“Tell me about yourself, your family. Then we’ll get back to it unless you need longer,” he jokes.
“I’m an only child. It’s just my dad and me. We lost my mom when I was fifteen, that’s why I’m getting this. It’s kind of a tribute but also a memorial. My mom’s favorite flowers were peonies. It translated to me, and we also had a garden full of them at our house. When she passed, though, Dad couldn’t stand the house we lived in anymore. He packed everything up, and we moved to the city. He still can’t handle her being gone, and it’s been six years. Their love, though, it was something out of a book.” I wipe at the underside of my eyes, catching the tears before they fall.
“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t bring her back, but something tells me she’s with you always.” He’s discarded his gloves again. Trick’s hand cups the side of my neck, his eyes holding so much emotion in them. It’s hard to believe I’ve only been in his presence for a few hours when we mesh together so well.
“It’s okay. I’m at peace with it. It does suck, but I know she loved my dad and me with everything she had to give.” We’re close, so close that I can smell the smoke that’s lingering from his cigarette he had earlier and the gum he’s been chewing on since we came back inside, and I really want to know what it would be like to kiss him.
“Wren.” His voice sends chills up my body. I watch his gaze move down to my chest. My nipples are hard, and not from the air conditioner running in the shop.
“Yes?”
“We need to finish this, or we won’t. As much as I want that desire building up between us, I think we both know we need to see where this goes.” With that, he licks his lips, as if that’s supposed to cool my raging hormones down.
“Okay.” I fall back onto my side. He goes to the sink he has in his area, washes his hands, and then gloves up again.
We talk a bit for the next hour, me trying to suck it up and not wince in pain, him smiling every time he sees me trying to hold it together. Trick talks me through the majority of it though, about how he got started, about how his mom, Moira, hated the idea, but his dad, Aiden, was all for it. Proud as hell that he was becoming a businessman even if it wasn’t in the family bar or with the family name attached to it.
I told him that I was going to school to become a social worker, that I’m twenty-one to his thirty-one. My dad comes to Boston, or I’ll go to Worcester at least once a month, and though he’s sometimes sad, he’s slowly coming out of his grief.
What I’m not expecting for him to ask is why Heather and Riley had no problem getting drunk and leaving me to fend for myself, or why Heather’s boyfriend is such a douchebag. I told him I just had to hold out until I finished school. We’re all roommates, though most of the time, Heather is with said douchebag and I usually don’t have to deal with him. If he does come to the apartment, I lock myself in my room or leave. I didn’t tell Trick, but Jake gives off the creepy vibes, so I keep my distance.
“Is he going to be there tonight?” he mutters. I look down. He’s wiping the excess ink off. Next, he puts this oil-based solution on my skin.
“Holy shit, Trick,” I breathe out without answering his question.
“You like it, babe?”
“What’s not to like? It’s freaking gorgeous.” I lean up and watch until he’s done.
“Not sure I’d put that back on tonight, maybe not tomorrow either.” He nods his head to where I placed my lacey bra with my purse on his counter.
“Probably not. I’m not sure if Jake the Snake will be there or not. With any luck, they all landed at his place. If not, I’ll sneak in and hang out in my room.” I shrug my shoulders as Trick helps me up off the table.
“Fuck that. Come back to my place with me. Eat a late dinner. We’ll watch a movie. I’ll take the couch, then I’ll take you back to your place tomorrow morning and hopefully, he’ll be gone. If not, we’ll go from there.”
“Even if he’s there tomorrow by the time you drop me off, it’s okay, Trick. I’ll have you take me to the library to study or something. I swear I can handle myself. You have Sunday dinner at your parents’ house. There’s no way I’d let you cancel because of Jake.” Trick is standing in front of me, his body overwhelming mine with his presence in the best way possible.
“We’ll see. Let’s get this wrapped up.” He takes a step back, and I walk past him. I turn my side to the mirror, taking in the tattoo now that it’s complete.
My hand finds my mouth. I’m in so much awe of how it’s come to life, tears are streaming down my cheeks.
“Ah fuck, Wren, baby. It wasn’t meant to make you cry.” I told him I wanted something intricate woven in that you could only see if you’re really looking at it. There, in curs
ive, is my mother’s name. It’s in the leaf of the largest peony.
“It’s so perfect.” Trick takes the time to wrap my fresh tattoo in some kind of plastic wrap, allowing me to let my shirt down and for me to wrap my arms around his middle.
“Wren, it wasn’t much. It gave me a creative outlet and wasn’t a fucking butterfly,” he murmurs into my hair as he wraps his arms around me. I know this isn’t normal, this feeling of us already being close to one another after knowing each other for just a few short hours. This though, it’s a feeling of belonging, and I haven’t felt that way since my mom died.
5
Trick
I’m not sure what bright idea I had when I suggested we go back to my place. The current situation of my zipper-imprinted cock can definitely be the judge of that. Wren’s braless tits are pressed against my back as she holds on to me while we ride down the streets as we both move our bodies seamlessly on my bike.
The look on her face when she saw what my mode of transportation was had me doubled over in laughter. Wren was freaked the fuck out. She even offered to walk home. I wasn’t having any of that. I grabbed the helmet I usually wear, placed it on her head, buckled the chin strap, and told her it was time to pony up.
She did, reluctantly, until I got on, kickstarted the motorcycle, and arched an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Are you a chicken?’ Wren hopped on after that. Her arms found my waist, her thighs clung to my hips, and damn, do I like the feelings she’s evoking from me.
The only bad part in this ten-minute journey to my place is feeling her pebbled nipples, and with only two layers of fabric separating our skin, I can feel every nuance when they move.
“This is so much fun!” Wren yells while we’re waiting at a red light to turn onto my street. My hand squeezes her bare thigh. A smile is playing on my lips when I turn around and say, “Glad you didn’t puss out?”
“Whatever,” she huffs out over the exhaust of the bike. I reluctantly let her go, and we glide down the street to the entrance to the garage for my building. I lucked out and got this place for a song. The bonus part is how close it is to Sin and Ink, not to mention my parents and brothers are within fifteen minutes of us all. I park my bike in one of my designated spots—that’s what really sold me on the place. There aren’t too many places in Boston where you can get a condo with two parking spots. Sure, I could have put my bike in front of my car, but why bother when they gave me two spots?
Once I turn the ignition off, Wren is already attempting to get off. I hold my hand out to steady her, not wanting her to burn those legs of hers.
“Whoops, sorry about that.” She’s standing off to the side trying to fiddle with the helmet strap.
“Let me.” I swing my leg up and off the bike in one smooth motion before my hands are moving hers out of the way.
“Does everything come easy to you?” She’s looking up at me, those doe eyes watching my every move.
“Nah, comes with practice.” I place the helmet on the seat she was riding on and take her hand in mine, my thumb gliding over that pulse point I had my lips on not long ago.
“I’m so sure.” She rolls her eyes, her purse strap hanging down on the side of her hip doing nothing to hide the fact she’s got nothing on beneath that Red Sox T-shirt she’s wearing.
We head towards the elevator, I was in luck when I was able to grab the top floor of this building. It was a bitch to move in, even with a service elevator, but the view is fucking phenomenal. When we arrive on the twenty-first floor, we step out and I unlock my door, allowing her to walk in first. Wren lets out a whistle. “This is what the other half lives like,” she laughs. One thing I’m learning about Wren is that she doesn’t care about status. The way her whole face lit up when I told her about my parents and how they brought us boys up, it was with a look of awe.
“Let’s see what Ma left in the fridge this time.” I veer off towards the kitchen while she looks around the place. Her gaze immediately goes to the view. The windows are pretty massive for the space, but they allow it to feel like the place is bigger than it actually is.
I open the refrigerator and hit the jackpot. Sometimes Ma will make a big heaping meal then stop at all of our places to drop off food. She mentioned she’d be doing that today, so I wasn’t worried about picking up dinner on the way home.
“I hope you like chicken. Looks like Ma dropped off her Chicken Divan casserole.” I take it out of the fridge. Even if Wren doesn’t want any, I know I do.
“Not sure I’ve ever had it, but honestly I’m not picky.” She walks towards me taking in the waterfall edge of the granite, the dark green countertops, and stainless steel appliances that Sean helped me install last year. It helps when your brother’s a contractor and has the hook-ups.
“It’s chicken, broccoli, cheese, with some kind of creamy sauce thrown together with a baked crust on top. She used to make this once a week when we grew up. Now it’s a rare treat.” The nostalgia is hitting me all at once.
“You had me at cheese.” I preheat the oven before asking, “You want the grand tour?”
“Of freaking course! Do you maybe have a sweatshirt I can borrow though? No offense, but it’s freaking cold in your place and well, you know, the tattoo and all.” She takes off her purse, making it all too apparent that her girls are let loose. Wren isn’t kidding either. I see the goose bumps rise on her skin.
“Yeah, come on, I’ll show you the master first. You can have your pick of sweatshirts.” I lead her towards the room, pointing to the guest bedroom and bathroom. Neither are that amazing, but the bedroom functions as an office more than anything with the exception of a murphy bed that came with the place. It’s ridiculous. I passed out on it once, and I’ll never do it again. Now it’s mainly used for when one of my brothers is too trashed to get home, though they both learned their lesson the first time they spent the night on that thing.
My bed is in the center of the room, a platform bed, two nightstands on each side, floating at that. Sean had a bitch fit when I found them and had him over to hold the nightstands while I drilled the holes in place. It wasn’t technically my fault. Ma found them and said they would go well with the bed I chose. So, I went with it. The same style windows carry into this room, except I went balls out with this thing. With a click of the remote, it turns the glass dark so the sun won’t wake me up after working until three o’clock in the morning on those few and far between nights nowadays.
“It’s like something out of a magazine.” Wren’s eyes dart around the entire room.
“Thanks, I can’t take all the credit. Ma and Sean had a hand in it, though Bran and Cillian had to help lug shit up with Dad breathing down their backs. Come on.” Her hips call to me. I walk behind her being careful not to touch her side. Those damn shorts of hers are unbuttoned and partially unzipped, making my hands want to reveal and feel everything she has covered.
I guide her the entire way to the closet, a small walk-in closet. Somehow we are both still glued to each other.
She lifts up on her toes to reach the sweatshirt she wants, her ass scraping along my cock the entire way. This time, it’s my breath that comes out on a hiss. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“Never fucking better. You want to change out of your shorts? I probably have something that won’t scrape your hip as much as those are,” I offer.
“Nope, I’m good.” She leaves me to put my sweatshirt over her head. It’s big on her, like I expected it to be, but not that long. It reaches to her mid-thigh.
She does what I least fucking expect. Her hands go under my sweatshirt she’s wearing, and I hear the zipper going down. No fucking way is she doing this to me. There’s only so much my balls can take. Those shorts drop down to her ankles and she steps out of them.
“See? Problem solved.” She picks them up and folds them before walking her ass out of the closet, that shapeless sweatshirt doing nothing to the fact I know what she’s wearing underneath. A shirt and a pair of panties. “Fuck,” I
groan once she’s out of earshot. This is going to be an excruciatingly painful night.
6
Wren
I’m not sure who this person is I’ve become tonight. This isn’t the usual ‘head down, nose stuck in a book, avoid feelings’ Wren. I have to say though, I love this side of me, and watching Trick wiggle in his shoes, it’s so freaking funny.
He finally comes out of the closet. The timer is going off for the oven. “I’ll get it,” I offer, sashaying myself to the kitchen. I look in the drawer to the left of the stove, hitting the jackpot for the oven mitts, turn off the oven, and right as I bend down to open it, Trick walks in. “Damn it, Wren.”
“What?” I stand up acting like I didn’t just flash him.
“You show me your ass again, I’ll do more than I think you’re ready for.” His voice is deep and raspy, like he just smoked a cigarette. He didn’t though. If this is his tone when his body is filled with want and desire, I’ll be teasing him as much as he wants. I almost want to forget about the food and attack Trick instead. His stomach takes that moment to growl. I abandon those thoughts while I search for a spoon to dish our food out. Humming in agreement while doing so, Trick gets the plates and forks out. Not paper plates either. No, it appears we’ll be dining on fine china. Okay, maybe that isn’t the right word for it. The only time I eat on something that doesn’t consist of cardboard is when I go home to Dad’s.
“I have beer, water, milk, or Coke. What’s your pick?” he asks.
“I’ll have a water, and Trick?”
