by Mj Fields
When the SUV whips into a parking lot then comes to a quick halt, I lean over to look at the brick building that is all black, like her soul, I think to myself, with the word Mayhem in burgundy script.
I catch what I assume is a smile on her face, but just as quickly as it came, it’s gone.
She looks over her shoulder at me and snaps, “What are you looking at?”
I sigh as I look away from her, unbuckle my seatbelt, and open the door. Stepping out in the Florida sun, I can’t help noticing the bright and vivid colors—the blue of the sky, the bright, fluffy clouds, the yellow sun, all just beyond the darkness of the building.
“Mind shutting the door so I can lock it?” she snaps.
Kill ’em with kindness, I think as I smile, shut the door to the SUV, and answer, “Sure thing, Mara.”
Inside, the cameras are already set up and what I assume are Mara’s regular artists—all three female—are at the reception desk, looking just as friendly as her. I introduce myself anyway.
“I’m Bella.”
The three of them give me a quick once-over then look away.
When their eyes light up, I look toward the door as David, Breaker, Ranger, Axel, Blade, Darby, Dagger, and Tags come in. I notice the way they look at Tags, like they want to eat him up.
His eyes meet mine, his jaw clenches, and so do my insides. When his Adam’s apple bobs, my mouth fills with saliva. He looks away, and I do the same.
Lord, help me, I think as I walk over to Maxine.
She smiles. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I smile back.
“Any idea who you have?” she asks.
“Maze, Grimm, Axel, and Ranger.”
She sucks air in between her teeth. “Four on day one?”
I nod. “I can handle four.”
“Yeah?” She looks at me curiously.
“Oh God, not like that!” I laugh.
She shrugs. “I won’t judge if you do.”
“What would I be judging?” I ask half-joking.
“Twenty-year age difference?” She smirks then whispers, “Daddy issues.”
“Well, he’s a …” I look over at him. David is tall, with thick salt and pepper hair, wearing a suit and tie in a tattoo shop. I’ve seen my own father in the same attire at our family’s tattoo shop, Forever Steel, before they handed it over to Kat and Ricco—many times—but David doesn’t have the edge that Dad does.
I glance at Tags, who smiles, looks down at the floor, and then glances back at me and catches me staring.
“Fuck, marry, or kill?” Maxine whispers.
“Huh?”
“Which one would you fuck, which one would you marry, and which one would you kill?”
“Are women included?”
She snorts, and all heads swing our way.
David looks at her inquisitively, and she looks at me wide-eyed. We both laugh.
“You ladies, okay?” he asks.
“Stupid question, David,” Mara mumbles.
He looks at her blankly then back at Maxine.
She whispers, “Marry,” then looks back at him. “We’re ready.”
“Good,” he says, expression unchanged, and then he looks back at the guys.
“And fuck,” she whispers. “His wallet isn’t the only thing that’s huge.”
“You little minx.” I smirk then nod to the group. “Let’s join them.”
“She hates me.”
“She’ll get used to you. Don’t change for anyone. Ever.”
We join the group.
“Maxine, you have Neo, Dagger, and Darby. Isabella, you have Maze, Grimm, Axel, and Ranger. Mara, that leaves you with Tags, Blade, and Breaker.” He looks up from the list and at Mara. “You’re giving her four on day one?”
She shrugs.
“I can handle four.”
“Doubtful,” Mara mumbles as she walks away. “Pick your first artist. We’ll each go one at a time. Fresh meat, since you can handle four, pick two as a warm-up.” She looks at Tags. “You first.”
“No problem,” he says evenly.
I have no idea how he can look at her, let alone be so calm, but he does… he is.
I look back. “Maze and Ranger, you two want to start?”
One of the men with cameras walks up. “I’m Stanley. I’m with you.”
“Perfect. Let’s capture some amazing moments, shall we?”
The theme for today is mother-daughter tattoos. It’s kind of ironic, and I find myself wondering if it hurts Mara at all. She doesn’t seem affected.
The first mother-daughter pair are night and day. Maze welcomes them with a kind smile, holding each one’s chair as they sit. He’s a big guy with a soft heart.
“What brings you two in today?” Ranger asks.
“My daughter’s eighteenth birthday.” The woman in her thirties blushes as she looks at Ranger, who’s clearly ex-military. His arms are heavily tattooed with every type of weaponry you could imagine. Aside from that, he’s a walking Ken doll. “I had her at sixteen. No one thought we’d make it. She graduated high school, so I’d say we made it.”
“Congratulations.” Maze nods. “You should be proud.”
I watch Ranger look at Maze with concern. Then back at them. “So, what are you thinking?”
She smiles. “We were hoping for some input.”
“The same but different,” her daughter adds.
“How about Ranger does one, and Maze the other? The same but different artist interpretations.” I smile.
Sitting back I watch as Ranger and Maze draw pictures, shielded from the client and the camera, as they ask personal preferences of mother and daughter. When they finish, both have the other’s favorite flower—a rose and a sunflower. The daughter has Mom in script beside the stem, and on the opposite side, You Gave Me Life. The mother has her daughter’s name, and opposite the name is, You Taught Me Love. Both women cry when they see what the other chose as script.
It’s a beautiful moment, one I’m so glad I am able to witness. Over the years, I have witnessed many of these moments, but this one is different.
After being given their aftercare information, they hug the two men.
I still get a kick out of how people who literally wear a piece of them on their skin are viewed as bad boys. Even these men, ones with criminal records, have huge hearts and enormous talent.
I look over at Tags and see him in deep concentration as he works on the daughter. He looks up briefly and gives me a wink. I’m sure it was so quick no one else but me realized it, a millisecond, but I will definitely scold him for it later.
Or maybe not.
Tags
The day went a fuck of a lot smoother than I expected. When we left the studio, I made damn sure Bella was in the same vehicle as I was. I also made damn sure to snag her phone from her and send myself a text. Why? Because I have plans that involve one Isabella Steel’s pussy and my tongue. But first, I need to turn on the charm. She deserves the charm. She more than deserves it.
I shoot her a text.
Me: Sweets, 1819 70th Street. One hour. Palm trees and a cool breeze. ~ Tag, you’re it.
Bella: I can’t be summoned like a booty call. No… ~ B.S.
Me: No B.S., I like that idea. Stop playing hard to get. That’s another two nights without getting off. ~ Tag, you’re … not getting it.
“Then, why would I come?”
I look over to see her standing on the balcony. She’s freshly showered, wrapped in a towel, and looks flushed. The towel wrapped around her hair isn’t snug and is falling off.
“Did you just get out of the shower, feeling all powerful because you’re naked, throw attitude because of it, then realized you fucked up another chance of getting off and ran out here to make it right?”
She scrunches up her face and averts eye contact. “Pft, n—”
“Don’t lie to me, sweet treat, or you’re not getting the tongue tonight.”
“Don’t treat me like a p
iece of”—she pauses—“ass. And—”
I hold my phone up. “I’m gonna delete this text, pretend it never happened, then try again.”
I type out another text.
Me: Sweets, 1819 70th Street. One hour. Palm trees and a cool breeze. ~ Tag, you’re it.
As I walk back into my room, my phone vibrates.
Bella: Fine. ~ B.S.
Standing outside of Shucker Waterfront Bar and Grill, I look down at my watch. She’s a minute late. Any other woman pulled this shit, I’d have left. This one has me sweating and in a fucking suit, leather shoes and shit, clearly trying to impress her and feeling like a fucking idiot.
I reach up to loosen my tie, because it’s hot as fuck outside, when a taxi pulls up.
When the door opens and I see her, black dress, short as fuck, with fuck-me heels on, I groan inwardly.
She doesn’t even look at me. She looks around, totally missing the fact that I’m right here.
A group of men are checking her out. Can’t say as I blame them, but also can’t say as my lack of impulse control isn’t about to rear its ugly head either.
“Hey, beautiful, no need to look any further,” one of the fucks says.
I’m about to pop off at the mouth when she does.
“Do I look like I came here to pick up a man?” She waves her hand over herself.
“Doesn’t matter; you found one. A real one. One who wouldn’t stand up a pretty little thing like you—”
I walk up to her, and she glances at me out of her peripheral. Then she does a double-take.
I like the way she looks at me.
I hold out my hand. “You ready, sweets?”
She takes it. “Sure am.”
I walk to the door and open it. “After you.”
“Why thank you.”
I let go of her hand and close the door. Then I turn back around and start toward the four assholes.
“When a woman tells you she’s got a fucking man—”
I feel soft skin and a tiny hand grabbing mine as she says, “Oh no, you don’t.”
I turn around and look down at her. “Sweets, please go inside—”
“If I can deal with her, you can handle walking away from them. No harm, no foul.”
“Disrespecting you—”
“You’re disrespecting my belly. Come on, I’m hungry.”
When we walk inside, the hostess looks at me. “Can I help you?”
“You can help us. Reservations under Taggant.”
I look at Bella. “Outside, under the palm trees, in the breeze, okay?”
She smiles and nods. “Yeah, perfect.”
With my hand on the bare skin of her lower back, we follow the hostess through the dimly lit restaurant and onto the deck.
Outside, the breeze blows perfectly, so the humidity isn’t that bad, even in this fucking suit. Well worth it, though, to see her eyes light up.
I pull out her chair, and she smiles over her shoulder at me as she sits.
God damn, I sigh to myself.
I take off my jacket and throw it over the back of the chair, push it closer to her, and sit.
She bites her lip and looks down as the waitress pours us water.
“Can I get you two anything to drink?”
“I’m good with water. My lady would like a glass of—”
“I’m good with water, too.”
The waitress smiles. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu.”
As soon as she walks away, Isabella looks around. “We’re a bit overdressed.”
“You’re overdressed in just a sheet.”
She smiles. “You look good in a suit.”
“I look good in you.”
She nods. “This is true.”
The waitress reappears and asks, “You all decide what you want?”
“I know exactly what I want. How about you, Isabella? Do you know what you want?”
She looks up at the waitress. “New York Strip, medium please.”
I can’t help laughing. “I’ll have the same.”
We watch the boats dock as we eat and, fuck, she can eat.
“You eat that steak like I’m gonna eat your pussy tonight.”
She laughs. “You think you bring me to dinner and you’re automatically going to get laid?”
“No, sweets, but I’m going to make dessert out of you.”
Fifteen
Vegas
Tags
Lying in bed next to a sleeping Isabella, I look out at the city lights.
Vegas.
I need to address some shit here. I need the papers signed.
When she skates her hand across my chest and sighs contently in her sleep, I’m thinking tequila, Elvis, and white wedding chapels, oddly placed throughout the city. Probably a good thing I’m legally hitched, or that tattoo would be the least of her worries.
Is it possible to look at someone and know you want them in your life permanently? Yes.
Can it last? I’m thinking I’m going to fuck my way through the next few months with her in my bed every night to make sure of it, and not for me—I already know—but for her.
She is … mine.
When my phone goes off, reality kicks me square in the balls and Isabella jumps up.
“The moon?”
“The sun.” I laugh as I kiss the top of her head and roll out of bed.
She’s up, sheet wrapped around her hot little bod, and then down on the floor.
“Get your fine ass back in bed. I’ll take the bathroom.”
“This is stupid.”
Over my shoulder, I tell her, “Don’t say that shit again.”
I hit the light in the bathroom then accept.
“The sun’s up, Daddy. Is the sun up there, too?”
“Not yet, Luna. We’re in a different time zone now.”
“For how long?” She seems a bit worried.
“Two weeks is all. But after Vegas, I have a whole week, remember?”
“You gonna work at Sisco’s?”
“Not if I’m still on the tour.”
“If you go to work at Sisco’s, can I go with you?”
“Not a great place for little Lunas.”
“But, Daddy,” she whines.
It’s not normal for her to whine.
“You tired, baby girl?”
She nods.
“Did you eat breakfast yet?”
She shakes her head.
“Well, you better fuel-up, get fired-up, and get crazy excited about learning something new.”
“We don’t learn anything; we clean the stupid classroom. And it’s hot and—”
“You love school, Luna. Some days aren’t going to be as fun as others. We take the good with the bad, and we bust behind to get to more good.”
She nods.
“So get through it to get to the good.”
“Like a box of cereal with a prize at the bottom?”
I smile. “Exactly like that.”
“You going to get a break?”
“If things go good, I may be able to get back for a few suns and moons. But it’s not a promise, okay?”
“Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you, too, Luna. Give the old lady a hug good morning.”
“Talk before bed?”
“How else would I know when the moon was ready to sleep?”
“Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you, Luna, all the way to the moon.”
“And back.” She smiles.
“Always back.”
When I walk out of the bathroom and into the room, she’s in bed with her back toward me, little spoon style.
“How old is she?”
“Almost four.” I slide in next to her and pull her tightly to me.
“Why is she already in school?” she asks on a yawn.
This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have yet, but fuck it. “She had some developmental delays. Wanted to nip it in the bud. Head start program
, and she’s pretty much on track.”
She rolls over and looks at me. “What kind of delays?”
“She lucked out. Just some balance and coordination issues. Difficulty with attention; a bit hyper.”
“She lucked out how?”
“It’s late, not a great time to start this conversation.” And already knowing you, not even sure it needs to happen, sweet treat, I think.
“Okay,” she says, rolling to her side, her back to me.
“Is okay like fine in woman talk?”
“Nope,” she says.
Enough said. It is exactly like fine, confirmed with a sharp nope.
I wrap my arm around her and cup her breast. Her nipple immediately tightens under my fingers. “There’s something else I’d like to talk about.”
She whimpers and arches her back, pressing into my hand. “And what’s that?”
“Your tasty tits.” I move over her, as she rolls onto her back. In one move, the covers are gone and I’m sucking sweet tit.
“Okay,” she moans as she fists my hair.
Pulling her nipple out with my teeth, I reach between her legs and spread her soaked pussy with my fingers. “Fucking edible.”
“I want you inside me.” She rocks against my touch.
I release her tit and look at her. “I said one more nig—”
She pulls my cock from my shorts, stopping me from continuing, and rubs her thumb across my head. “Stop playing hard”—she squeezes my dick—“to get and fuck me.”
Before I verbally agree, she rubs my cock against her wet, hot opening. “I’m on the pill. Are you clean?”
My heart hammers in my chest, my balls catch fire, and I shove into her with the force of a man whose balls have been blue for two torturous nights. “I’m fucking clean.”
Her mouth is open, and she’s trying to suck in air.
“Fuck.” I pull out. “Sorry, sweet treat. I should have licked—”
She narrows her eyes. “Do it again.”
So, I do.
After a few hard, fast, and breathtaking strokes in her tight as fuck pussy, she begins to meet me thrust for thrust.
“Fuck yes,” I groan before bowing my head and taking one of her tits in my mouth, sucking so hard that she cries out.
