Inked Boy: The All American Boy Series

by C. A. Harms

More laughter comes from my left, and I glance at her friends. “From here, it looks so dirty,” one of them says. Then, a group of guys walking by makes vulgar comments about jerking it, and the blonde instantly freezes.

  “Oh shit,” she mumbles, as she looks up from beneath her tossed hair, partially covering her face. Her eyes lock with mine, and she bites her lip as if her mind is racing and she isn’t sure what she should do next.

  “You finished?” I ask, arching my brow in question.

  “Are you?” Her friend retorts quickly, and the blonde woman glares at her. “Hey, I’m just asking.” She holds out her hands, faking innocence, but her smirk tells a different story. “You look like you were just about to—,”

  “Not helping,” the blue-eyed beauty growls the words and glares at her friend. Stepping away from me, allows me to look at her more fully. She’s the kind of girl that generally runs in the opposite direction when they see me coming. The stuffy, I drink tea on Sundays and get weekly manicures kind of girl. She is entirely too put together, unlike myself.

  Her eyes scan over me before she lifts her gaze to meet mine once more, and I find myself wondering what she could be thinking. “I feel like I should buy you a new shirt,” then she looks down again, and I try not to react to her zoning in on the crotch of my pants. “And pants.”

  “I’d never wear the kind of clothes you’d buy, Princess.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her brows furrow, and she narrows her eyes at me.

  “You and I don’t shop at the same places.” When she continues to stare at me, I try not to laugh at the blank look on her face. “I’m not a loafer and polo shirt kind of guy.”

  “That’s obvious,” her nostrils flare. But, even pissed off, she is gorgeous.

  Over the next few seconds, she and I glare at one another, I know for entirely different reasons. I don’t want to be attracted to her, but I am. Hell, the last time I found myself wrapped up with a prissy girl, I had my tires slashed, and the windows of my shop busted out. The crazy psychotic bitch went nuts when I said things weren’t working out. Still, more than a year later, I’m dealing with the shit from that nut case.

  I’m just about to tell her not to worry about it when she rolls her eyes and walks away, leaving me to stare after her. What a view it is too, that little shake of her ass as she storms off taunts me.

  I remain frozen in place in all my wet glory and consider chasing after her in a very unlike me kind of way. I don’t chase girls, I never have, but for her, I consider it. Which is frightening and the exact reason I turn around and make my way back to my friends.

  The very second, I rejoin my group of friends, they all take in my current messy state and almost simultaneously burst out in laughter at my appearance. For the next twenty minutes, I have to listen to them comment about me pissing my pants. When they finally let me explain, it is an entirely different type of torment. It’s easier to drink and ignore them, but that never stops my mind from wandering back to the blonde with the most alluring blue eyes.

  Chapter Four

  Breanna

  * * *

  “I love this band,” Piper, another friend of ours, hollers out over the sound of the music. She rocks her hips to the rhythm, smiling as she stares up at the singer of Whiskey Barrels. She isn’t exaggerating; they are really good.

  I lift my camera and snap a few pictures of the band in action. The drummer at his best, the guitarist, who is moving into the singer as he too sings the song’s chorus. It’s all so mesmerizing. The reaction from the crowd, the women, all hollering out, trying to gain any kind of response from the guys on stage. The men are all bobbing their heads to the music, enjoying the beat.

  Scanning over the mass of people, I snap a few more pictures until my lens lands on one particular group, and I freeze. Then, using the focus, I zoom in on one specific person in particular in the middle of the group.

  Embarrassment fills me once again when I think of drenching him with my drink and then trying to pat him dry. I can only imagine what the entire scene looked like. Ridiculous comes to mind.

  His side profile is intriguing, the way his jaw flexes when he lifts his beer to take a drink. His throat moves and bobs as he swallows. He then looks to his left and smiles at another guy, but I can’t seem to pull my attention from him.

  The camera’s zoom allows me to see him in great detail.

  He appears broody, and from my little encounter with him, he was a bit of a cocky ass. But that didn’t change the fact that my body reacted to him. The way he was looking at me made my heart race and my hands tremble. A warm sensation pooled in my lower stomach then as it is again now.

  The man is beautiful in a dark and dangerous kind of way.

  From what I can see of his tattoo’s I’m impressed with their detail. The vibrant coloring, a puzzle of so many different symbols and images, weaving together as one. Covering his arm and disappearing beneath his sleeve, then reappearing on the side of his neck, I am awed by their beauty.

  “Find something you like?” I quickly lower the camera and look toward Aurora to find her smirking knowingly. She glances in the direction I was looking, and her grin grows wider. “He looks dirty,” I’m just about to defend a man I don’t know a thing about when she continues. “I’m talking about hot steamy, no holding back; I will make you quiver, kind of dirty.”

  I can’t help but smile and feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Aurora isn’t lying; he does look sinful.

  “Maybe this is your chance to climb down off the little miss can’t go wrong stool and get dirty too.”

  She doesn’t wait for me to respond before looking back to the band and joining in on the lyrics. She and Piper laugh and swoon a bit over the band members playing on the crowd’s attentions—swaying to the music, enjoying the rhythm, quickly getting lost in the atmosphere.

  I take the chance to lift my camera once more, and when I bring the inked stranger back into focus, my body grows rigid. He is no longer paying attention to his friends or the band on stage. I can no longer admire his side profile or the defined contour of his jaw. Instead, I’m met with piercing dark eyes staring right back at me, with a scowl on his gorgeous lips.

  I know I should look away, but I can’t seem to move.

  I feel my nipples harden beneath the thin material of my top, and without being able to stop myself, I shift, rubbing my thighs together slightly. He holds my stare, and from this distance, I can’t quite see him clearly, but I know by his defensive stance that he seems unpleased with my attention.

  Too many shots, with a couple of beers to follow, have made me braver than I usually am. I hate being the center of attention. I hate feeling vulnerable to anyone. It pisses me off, but right now, I feel trapped in some kind of trance I can’t seem to dig my way out of.

  I did not know him, and I had never seen him before until I dumped my drink down his entire front. So, why right now am I feeling so many different emotions for a complete stranger? And an unpleasant one at that who appears to have some type of chip on his shoulder.

  Princess.

  His need to call me that still irritates me more than it should.

  “You still have the key card to our room, right?” Again, Aurora pulls my focus away, and this time I am thankful for the distraction. I feel completely out of sorts, rattled at my attraction to some jerk.

  “Yep,” I tap my pocket and try not to show her that I am trembling as I fist my camera tighter. At first, I was hesitant about staying in Bear Creek for the weekend. But, now that we are here and we’ve been drinking, I’m thankful I decided to listen to my pushy best friend.

  For the remaining part of the night, I force myself to ignore the direction I know he is in. So instead, I enjoy the music, have a few more drinks and snap pictures I know tomorrow I will toss out. Thankful, I took several images before my need to drown out the desire I feel for a man I know I should forget.

  Tomorrow I’ll wake up feeling like hell, but tonight,
I’ll let my hair down and live a little.

  Chapter Five

  Daxton

  * * *

  I lay in bed for what feels like hours staring up at the ceiling. Every time I close my eyes, I see blonde hair and blue eyes. I see her looking at me, holding a camera in her hands, frozen in place.

  After I'd caught her watching me, I spent the rest of the night doing the same to her. But she never looked in my direction again. I was both thankful and disappointed, which confused me.

  Frustration hit me hours ago when I couldn't seem to shake the images of her from my mind.

  The bands played last night one after another, but I'd gotten trapped in some fucking struggle inside my mind. A battle that I didn't want to fight. Girls like her are trouble for guys like me.

  Needy, jealous, the kind of girls that think they can change, and mold guys like me into what they need. Like some fucking project, the need to fix me. But I don't need fixing. I am who I am, and I'm not changing for anyone.

  When five a.m. rolls around, and I still can't seem to get any fucking sleep, I climb out of bed and start a pot of coffee.

  Today is going to be a long day, and I feel sorry for anyone who gets on my nerves. My patience is thin, my frustrations are high, and that combination always makes my control run thin.

  "We have a few appointments set, but mostly it'll be walk-ins, just like every other year during this time. You all know the drill, and Jace, keep your fucking dick in your pants. I catch you in the same position I did last year, and I'll cut it off." Luna rolls her eyes, and Olly chuckles.

  "What if this time I use another position, will that work?" The smart-ass smirks and leans back in the chair.

  Before I get the chance to react, Zac shoves him, and the chair topples over. "He said keep your pencil dick in your pants, dumb ass."

  Jace gets up from the floor and moves toward Zac, fully prepared to retaliate when the sound of the bell on the door jingles. But, instead, they both freeze, looking in that direction, and immediately shift into business mode.

  One of my regulars Craig, steps inside, finding me instantly. "Got time to work on my back?"

  "Sure," I wave him on, "come on back."

  Craig was my first customer when I opened the doors of Deranged Ink. He's a hard man to read. The guy is one of few words, and those words are generally short and clipped. So, at first glance, anyone would assume he's a prick. But, like me, he gets a lot of looks in passing. He is the kind of guy you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.

  Over time we've completed both sleeves and have now moved on to his back. Craig is somewhat of an artist himself and has drawn up most of his tattoo's allowing me to transfer them onto his body.

  "Quiet day?" he asks as we enter my area, and he lifts his shirt up and over his head. The man's ripped for a man his age. I think his muscles have muscles.

  "Most people are sleeping off the alcohol they consumed last night."

  “So, they can do it all over again tonight," he adds.

  He isn't wrong. The festival is always a three-day-long party. Most take off work on Friday to start early and Monday to recover from all the poor choices they made.

  "You going out to fight the crowd tonight?" He sits on the chair backward and leans over the extended part resting his arms on the cushions, making his back span out wide.

  I take a seat and pull the tray with my inks and gun closer. "One night of crazy is more than enough for me." I also don't want to take the chance of seeing her again. "Figure we'll have stragglers floating in here wanting piercings and ink so," I shrug and fire up the gun. "You ready?"

  "You know it," He doesn't even flinch when I hit the sensitive areas near his sides. For a moment, I think he must have fallen asleep. Until he shifts to get comfortable, which indicates he's still fully alert.

  I wipe over the area more than two hours later and lean back to take in the detail of the design. Everything we've done is badass, and each time we add something new, it completes the masterpiece even more. "You ready to have a look?"

  I pass him the mirror, and he stands moving over to the other, full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Positioning the handheld, he uses it to get the view of his back, and I wait, watching him for his reaction. "That blue pops against the dark shadows." The corner of his mouth lifts, and relief washes over me. I do not intimidate easily, but Craig, I'll admit, scares the shit out of me.

  "You are a damn good artist boy," he shifts enough to allow himself to see lower. "Damn good."

  I know I'm talented but hearing it from him, I don't know why, but it means something.

  I bandage him up, and we move toward the front of the shop. He gives Olly some shit and winks at Luna before paying for today's session and tossing a generous tip in my direction. "See ya in a couple of weeks," no appointment made, just the promise to stop back as always. I have no idea what Craig does, but I know that the man always has money and an even greater vision. The rest is none of my business.

  The streets once again begin to fill by five—the smell of food and the flow of alcohol kick into high gear.

  I stand in the front of the shop, scanning over the streets, lying to myself that I'm not looking for anyone in particular. Everyone has a person in their chair, whether getting a new tattoo or a new hole someplace in their body. Zac has a young lady in the back, and she is a little too vocal about where he is placing the needle. Let's just say it sounds like a lot more than a nipple piercing.

  I move further into the shop and sit down, thumbing through my phone for some form of distraction.

  Jace and Luna finish with their clients at about the same time, and once they settle up, they join me. Jace kicks back, propping his feet up on the footrest. "I bet that chick’s a screamer," I ignore Jace’s comment, but Luna smacks him on the back of the head. "What?" he rubs the very spot. "She's that loud now, and all our boy is doing is flicking the nip to get it hard." Jace grins, "She's squealing like that from a little finger action upstairs. If she had a little tongue action below, she'd probably break some windows, is all I'm saying.” Jace says, grinning happily.

  "She's also over exaggerating and trying to put on a show too."

  "You think?" He doesn't seem convinced.

  "Yeah, I'm sure."

  The sound of the bell ringing with a new arrival breaks the moment, and we all look toward the door. "Amber," I stand and meet another one of my clients. "You ready for some more shading?"

  "I have a little less than two hours before my shift starts."

  "Come on back," I lead her to my chair, and she pulls off her shirt, not shying away or attempting to cover herself. Nothing beneath, she stands before me, tits on display. Amber is a small girl, but her tits are enormous, fake huge, making her seem disproportioned. "Where you want me?" She asks with a smirk. I don't miss her flirtatious tone, but it comes with the territory. I've lost track of the number of times I or any of the others have been propositioned. The best option is to ignore it.

  I point to the chair, she straddles it much as Craig did, and I get to work on her back. A few more sessions and her angel wings will be complete.

  "Holy shit," I hear Jace say, followed by a whistle, “If it isn't Miss Leather."

  I pause and lean to the left, peeking around the wall.

  "What?" I ask.

  "Leather pants." He emphasizes the words with wide-eyed excitement, pointing to the front of the shop. "Perfect ass, hugged tight in black leather."

  "Give me a minute," I tell Amber and stand looking around the corner. Immediately my body tenses, and I grip the door frame.

  No fucking way!

  Chapter Six

  Breanna

  * * *

  What are the chances? Of all the places Aurora could have chosen, she picks the one where King Broody himself seems to work.

  All the tattoos he has over the parts of his body I could see make perfect sense now. I feel my entire body heat from head to toe as I remain just inside the door, ha
lf-hidden by Aurora and the other half completely exposed to him. I quickly look downward, no longer wanting to see the scowl he is wearing.

  "Well, well," a tall guy moves in our direction, shaking his head slightly, making a tsking sound. "I gotta say I prefer the leather, babe." His focus is solely on Aurora as he allows his gaze to shift over the entire length of her body. Even I feel the heat of his approval, and it has nothing to do with me. "They highlighted your ass."

  "Excuse me," she crosses her arms before her, and it's like shining a spotlight on her chest. The guy immediately looks at her cleavage, and his eyes light up like Christmas morning. "There is no way a sane man could miss you in those tight leather pants you had on last night, though I prefer your choice of top today." He does not attempt to hide the fact he is peeking done the front of her top. "Damn, those are nice too."

  "Pig," she drops her arms and takes a step toward him. "My eyes are up here," She points to her face, but he only smirks as he continues to enjoy her chest.

  "I'll get to those. Right now, I'm admiring your other assets." Aurora shoves the guy in the chest, and he laughs as he barely moves from the force. He is cute in the surfer boy kind of way. Much like me with pale skin and blond hair. There is the presence of a dimple when he smiles, and his laughter seems so carefree.

  I focus on my friend and ignore the feeling of someone's stare burning a hole in me. I can see the guy from last night out of the corner of my eye, still standing in the same place. I'm sure he is as surprised to see me as I am him. If Aurora weren't so dead set on getting this tattoo, I'd force her to leave.

  "What can we do for you ladies?" A girl with long dark hair steps around the surfer boy that still can't seem to take his eyes off Aurora. "Ignore him," she insists, giving him a little shove, "he has no manners."

  "I can be real, gentle-man-like." The pervert wags his brows, and I fight the urge to laugh. He is ridiculous, but honestly, he is hilarious too. "Though she doesn't strike me as a girl that likes it slow or gentle."