Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1)

by Winston, Lexie

  “Close your eyes and no peeking,” I order, and with a resigned look, he nods, shooing me away again.

  Oliver

  HER ASS SWAYS AS SHE walks away from me, the movement hypnotic and alluring, and my cock is hard as a steel rod from kissing her before. God, the woman undoes me. I’m so attracted to her, in a way I never thought I would be. I mean, she’s the enemy, right? She’s the one who's trying to break up our happy family. Or that's how Jacinta, Jaxon, and Declan tell it...but I’m not so sure. I think back to our conversation in the car and how I told her things that I haven't ever told another woman before. Mind you, none of them have really asked me about that kind of stuff either. All were more interested in whether I had tattooed anyone famous or if I would do one on them for free. I’m not sure if I’ve ever really had an actual relationship. But Harlow...I’d opened up, and it all seemed to pour out.

  What is it about her? Is it that she gives off that vibe of being a kindred spirit, one abandoned child to another? The attraction I feel toward her is not only on a physical level but an emotional and spiritual one. I can’t say that I was really looking for something like this, but with her here, right in front of me, there’s a part of me that says I’d be an idiot not to see where it could go. As my brain starts to think about what the future could hold for us, I think about what my sister has planned for Harlow, and it’s enough to make my cock soften. While I don’t appreciate the reminder that my future with Harlow might rightfully end tonight, it’s definitely good timing because Lisa pops in front of me suddenly.

  “Are you ready? I just need to put the stencil on, and we can get started,” she tells me a little too enthusiastically. I’m getting a little more excited college cheerleader and less professional tattoo artist. “Now, she said just in from the crease of your thigh.” She starts to rip the towel off my lower regions, but I quickly hold it in place.

  “Yeah, you don't need to remove the towel. Let me just hold it back for you. Always give the client the option of more modesty until you know their preference,” I explain to her, already a little disgruntled with how this interview is going. The last thing I need is my potential new artist getting an eyeful of my cock. So I peel the towel back as far as it needs to go while keeping it secure over the rest of my goodies.

  “I hope you don't hold this against me,” she whines as she places it. “She assured me you were okay with her choosing. I mean, I wouldn't put this on you normally. I’d like to think that I have a much better grasp on what would be fitting for a man like you. Maybe her taste just isn’t as good.” She’s trying so hard to shit on Harlow with her not so thinly veiled words, so I tell her firmly, “I lost a bet, and I stand by my words. I’m sure it’s not horrible; Harlow wouldn't do that to me.”

  She purses her lips in disapproval and starts up the gun, but I’m not even paying attention, my words having struck a chord with me that honestly makes me a little bit uncomfortable.

  Harlow’s not a bad person, so why are we trying to get rid of her? I really need to speak to my siblings, see if I can change their minds, especially before tonight.

  I close my eyes, and the gun drones on as she carefully outlines my tattoo. “So, how long have you and Harlow been together?” she probes conversationally. Strike two, not reading her client. Clearly, I’m not in the mood for mindless chit chat.

  I roll my eyes behind my lids at her obvious question. “A while,” I lie, hoping she doesn't ask anymore, but of course I can’t be that lucky.

  “And how did you meet?” she fires back, but I have a way of warding off the questions.

  “Look, when I get tattooed, I like the silence,” I explain to her. “I like to sink into the sensation and block out everything around me. You should probably check with your client about whether they’re the same or are happy to hold a conversation.” I chastise her gently, trying to change the subject, and when I open my eyes to gauge whether she understands, pink stains her cheeks, so I guess she does. She’s quiet for a little while longer before more words flow out of her mouth, and those seal her fate.

  Harlow

  I TAKE MYSELF AND MY cup of coffee back to the staff lounge and curl up on the couch there. Pulling my book out of my backpack, I hear the tattoo gun start-up and the low murmured voices of the two of them. Tuning it all out, I get sucked into my story, and phew, it is heating up. The main female character has five mates, and she is seriously being taken care of sexually in every kind of delicious way. This is so not what I needed after Oliver had already gotten me all hot and bothered.

  Looking at the door of the bathroom, I wonder if I can just sneak in there and finish the job he started with a little TLC self-service. But before I can do that, the back door opens, and a huge hulking guy covered in tats and leather walks through the door. He's holding a motorcycle helmet in his hand, and his dark brown hair is messy from wearing it.

  Stopping suddenly at the sight of me, he frowns, blinking his steel-blue eyes once, then twice, before asking, "Who are you?"

  "I’m Harlow," I tell him, standing up, smoothing out my dress, and running a hand through my hair. Shit, is Oliver like Jacinta, not wanting anyone to know who I am?

  His eyes run the length of my body and back before a small smile crosses his face. "Ah, Brad’s daughter. Nice!" He steps further into the room, his tall body looming over mine as he reaches out one huge paw.

  "I'm Jonah, one of the tattoo artists here at NPI." My hand is engulfed in his, but it feels warm and secure as we shake briefly before he drops it and moves away. Putting his keys in a cubby nearby and stripping off his leather jacket, placing both that and his helmet in there too, he moves on to the coffee machine.

  "Oh, did you get this started, or is it old crap from yesterday?" he asks, looking at it dubiously.

  "Fresh this morning," I exclaim, holding up my cup in demonstration, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

  "Harlow, you just became my new favorite person," he tells me, pouring himself a mug and coming over to sit next to me on the couch. His large body takes up most of the room, but it’s not intimidating. Instead, I get the vibe from him that he makes his clients feel comfortable, maybe even cozy, and I almost want to gravitate toward his energy. A huge sigh leaves his mouth as he leans back with his eyes closed, sipping the liquid.

  "Oh yeah, like manna from the gods." His voice is rough but happy.

  I can't help myself, and I snort out loud. "Rough night?" I ask him, and he turns to look at me with a serious look on his face.

  "You would not believe it if I told you."

  "Try me," I prompt, now desperate to know. A cheeky grin crosses his exhausted face as he chuckles.

  "Well, I did warn you. I went out with some buddies and went home with twins last night," he tells me, sounding proud, and I roll my eyes, but his next words have my mouth dropping open in shock. “And let me tell you that brother and sister tag teamed me like a pro wrestling duo, and, well, I'm surprised I can even walk this morning." Holy shit, did he just say, brother and sister? He closes his eyes again, and I run my gaze over him. Seriously wouldn't have picked this dude as bi, but shit, that’s hot.

  "You know, I can just hear what you're thinking, and yes, it was amazing, and yes, I will be keeping their number in my phone." Now he’s just smug as shit.

  “Fuck," I grumble, "some people have all the luck. I can’t seem to get anywhere sexually or platonically."

  His eyes pop open at my words, and he looks at me, shrewdly nodding toward the main room. "Go easy on him. People see the gloss on the outside and are envious, but every one of the Summers kids has scars of their own and walls a mile high. With a light and gentle touch, you may just get through to him. Hopefully, if you win over one, the rest will follow."

  Huffing, I stand up and take my empty cup to the sink. "Somehow, I don't think I could get through those walls with a ton of dynamite." He stands up, and we both head toward the sound of the gun buzzing, but I stop suddenly as Lisa's words register in my ears.r />
  "Oli, I saw the problem you had earlier. Would you like me to take care of that for you?" The offer is flirty and suggestive, and I hear a grunt come from his mouth and then a gasp. Oh hell no, she didn't!

  Before Oliver can reply, I storm into their cubicle, seeing her hand without the gun in it straying to areas it doesn’t need to be. So I reach out and pull the plug from the socket.

  She shrieks as it comes to a stop. "What the hell are you doing?" she shouts at me, standing up and coming over to me.

  "Oh no, bitch, I heard you proposition my boyfriend. Pack up your shit, grab your portfolio, and get the hell out. There will not be a job available for you here or at any NPI in the future."

  She turns to Oliver in shock, and he has an amused look on his face as he nods his head, chuckling slightly while he holds his towel to his groin, keeping his goods covered. "Sorry, Lisa, but if you’re going to hit on me with my girlfriend in the next room, I can’t trust you not to hit on clients. Better do what Harlow says."

  "But- but- the tattoo?" She gestures to his groin, and I wave Jonah forward.

  "It's fine. Jonah will finish it up. Get the fuck out!" My words end in a growl, and she squeaks as I step toward her. Abandoning the gun on the station, she hurries to grab her bag and portfolio.

  "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!" I shout after her, and Jonah and Oliver both chuckle with laughter.

  "Wow, my girlfriend is feisty," Oliver says, trying to get a look at his new ink.

  "Eyes up here, bucko," I demand, and they meet mine, amusement in them.

  "Sorry, Jonah. I know I didn't ask, but if I show you a picture on my phone, do you think you could finish it up?"

  “You bet, sweetheart. Anything for you. I think I just fell in love. My heart is pounding after that performance." He grabs at his chest playfully, and I have a moment where I wish I’d be able to stick around for more than just today; I wouldn’t mind having another friend, and Jonah seems perfect for that.

  “Dude, I think maybe it's a left-over reaction from last night.” I giggle as I walk off to the back to grab my phone and quickly snap a shot of my penguin. I hear Oliver ask about Jonah’s night, and I smile when he starts to retell his story.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Harlow

  The buzzing of the gun is a soothing sound as Jonah finishes off Oliver’s tattoo. He'd finished telling him about his night, and Oliver had started telling us about Lisa. "She was pushy and unprofessional from the very start. Kept asking me personal questions about you and me, Harlow, while she was shaving my skin. She didn't put gloves on to apply the stencil, and when she put the oil on for the transfer, she tried to cop a feel of my cock."

  Jonah snorts. "Lucky you, man, you should have gone for it. Why do you keep calling Harlow your girlfriend, anyway?” He looks at me, raising his eyebrow and giving me a bright smile. "No offense." I just laugh.

  "I wanted to test her professionalism. I don't want her hitting on clients’ partners if they come in with them.” Jonah stops the gun for a moment, looking thoughtful but eyeing Oliver with suspicion.

  "That’s actually a good idea. I've seen that happen quite a bit with some of the artists I've worked with in the past, and that’s so not cool. But are you sure that’s the only reason?" Oliver ignores the question, and Jonah starts the gun up again as he continues telling us about Lisa.

  "She also kept pushing the towel back further and further, and I ended up having to cup my junk to hold it there." He sounds pissed now. "And you heard her words at the end. If I had told her to blow me for the job, she would have right then and there. I'm a lot of things, but that’s crossing the line as far as I'm concerned. The worst part is she’s a talented artist, and she would have benefited the business, but her behavior was reprehensible."

  Jonah has his tongue sticking out slightly as he finishes the shading of the penguin. "I don't know, man, it might have made good drama for the TV show."

  Oliver grimaces. "Yeah, but I'd rather it got by on its merit and the talent of the artists as opposed to the drama the artist can stir up. I’m sure the client stories are going to be dramatic enough."

  Jonah shrugs, wiping one more time and pulling away. "Okay, Miss Harlow, check out the handiwork." He gestures at Oliver’s crotch, and I blush at the thought that I’d like to check out more than just the tattoo. My eye catches Oliver’s, and he winks slowly at me like he knows what I'm thinking. His hand goes down to cup his crotch as Jonah puts the gun down.

  "Can you break this down? I got to get set up for my first client; they should be here very soon." Oliver nods, but his eyes don't leave mine, and Jonah walks away.

  "Well, are you going to take a look?" he pushes, and I move around to where Jonah had been sitting. Peering down, a smile crosses my lips at the matching penguin. It's perfect! Just as I’m about to say something, Oliver moves his hand, and the towel shifts as his cock stands at attention. I can't see anything but the outline, but it looks long and thick.

  My eyes dart to his as he smiles lazily at me. "Didn't have this problem with Lisa." His eyes drop down, and I follow them. As I bend over, the maxi-dress gapes in front, and he's got a good view of the top of my breasts. "Pass me that mirror there." He points to one on the workstation. Reaching, I hand it to him and back away, waiting for the fallout.

  "Fucking hell, Harlow!" he bellows, and I collapse onto Jonah’s vacated chair in hysterics. Jonah’s chuckles join mine from the next cubicle.

  "What’s wrong, Oli?" I tease, and his eyes heat at my use of his nickname. "You were admiring mine so much I thought you needed a matching one." He sits up, dropping his towel, his thick cock erect and twitching and holy shit, look at those piercings.

  The underside of Oliver’s cock is lined with three metal bars, a Jacob’s Ladder. That has my laughter stopping instantly as I watch him grab a piece of cling wrap that he places over the penguin before taping it down and pulling his briefs back on. My eyes stay glued to his thick length the whole time, thinking about the things he could do to me with it. My nipples pebble, and my panties grow damp again. He pulls on his jeans and starts stripping the table and wiping over it with disinfectant before setting it up again.

  “Your turn, Harlow. I want you on the table, on your back, and pull up your dress. I’m adding to your thigh tattoo with the mystical creatures.” He’s all business suddenly, like he doesn't even want to address the tension flowing between us.

  “Don't you have other clients coming in today?” I ask him, and he shakes his head, changing out the gun and the chords and ditching the old ink pots. “Nope. I rescheduled them all after dinner last night. I’m all yours today, and we should get this finished before we need to go back and get changed for the premiere. You up to it?” There's a hint of a challenge in his voice, but that doesn’t bother me.

  “Sure, you’ve seen my tattoos. I've got a high pain threshold and staying power. You’ll probably cave before I do.” His eyes heat even more, and he runs his tongue across his lip, causing a shiver to travel down my spine. He doesn't say anything, just pats the table, so I follow his instructions and climb up.

  “Oh, hang on, wait.” I stop and run for the back room to grab my phone and my book before heading back out and climbing up on the table. Lying back, I pull my dress up and tuck it through my legs, so the back is now in front, sort of like a big diaper. That keeps it up out of Oliver’s way, and I won't flash my panties to anyone who may walk by.

  Oliver starts to dry shave my thigh over my other tattoo. He's business-like and focused now, all signs of teasing and desire gone. I just hope he gets it done in time for tonight. That makes me think of something.

  "Oliver, what’s the deal with Cecelia and Brad? Are they a couple? I was surprised to see her at breakfast this morning.” His forehead wrinkles in a frown, and he snorts.

  "She wishes. She stays in a spare room if they've been working late at night, and he uses her to ward off all the gold-diggers at social functions. Sh
e may have gotten the idea that it’s more than that, but I can assure you it’s not." He looks up and meets my eyes. "I've got a feeling she may find herself replaced by you from now on."

  He rubs some oil onto my leg and lays the transfer down. I try to sit up and look as he puts a hand in the middle of my chest, but he holds me down. "Uh uh, same rules go, no peeking." So I stay flat, and he goes back to the transfer, smoothing it across my skin.

  "Harlow, if you have no intention of building a relationship with Dad, I suggest you go home.”' His sudden sullen words surprise me, though there’s less hostility in his words than there would be if one of the others had spoken. I blink at the ceiling and wait to see if he says anything else.

  "You could probably ask for the world, and he would give it to you. It's not that he loves you any more than he loves us. It's just he has so much guilt. Guilt from not knowing that you existed and for you having to grow up as you did. Guilt that he wasn't able to save you like he saved all of us. Please, Harlow, don’t break my dad's heart. You will not survive the onslaught from my siblings if you do. We will do anything to protect that man because he did everything to protect us." He includes himself in that last sentence, and my heartbeat rises in panic. Reaching down, I stop his hand against the stencil.

  "I don't know what’s going to happen between Brad and me, but I’m enjoying getting to know him, not that we've had much chance to, though I'm hoping tonight changes that. But if anything does go wrong, you and your siblings have only got yourselves to blame. Most of them have been cold and hostile toward me since day one, and I have done nothing to warrant it. Me coming from where I did is not a valid reason. From what I understand, none of you were in better situations when Brad adopted you."