by MK Moore
LOVED WITH COLOR
MK Moore
Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other books by MK Moore
About the Author
Dedicated to Daryl. Thank you for loving me no matter what. Our love inspires me more than I could ever, ever explain.
I love you so fucking much for like ever.
xoxo
Loved With Color (Tattooed Bride Series, Book 2)
By MK Moore
© MK Moore 2019 Flirty Filth Publishing.
All Rights Reserved
By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.
Cover created by KL Fast
Created with Vellum
Blurb
Shaynah
From the wrong side of the tracks, I’ve never known love.
With him, there’s so much, it fills every single void I’ve ever had.
Blake
From the best of everything, I’ve never lived for anything.
With her, I can see color for the very first time
Never letting go, overcoming all obstacles, and love abounds in this steamy HEA
Book 2 in the Tattooed Brides Series
1
Shaynah Gilmore
Looking around my work station with pride, I can’t believe just how far I’ve come in the last five years. My fabulous former stripper mother turned to men and alcohol instead of you know, mothering me. So many dudes rolled in and out of our crappy trailer just outside Savannah, Georgia. It was freaking awful. I knew then and there what I didn’t want out of life. I am sure my mama tried as hard as she could, but I just didn’t see it. I have no idea who my dad is. My mom said it was just a rich businessman patron she had at Diamond Girlz, the sleazy club she worked at in those days. Her most recent club was Pussy Galore out by the airport. She worked the day shift there. That's when you know it's time to hang up your g-string and your Catholic school girl costume or something like that. Personally, I think she should have quit a long fucking time ago, but whatever. I’m salty and I can’t help it.
In the last two years, she has found God as well as gotten married. She lives in Boca Raton with her new husband and a Golden Retriever named Daisy. Her husband, Scott, is a great guy and I guess everyone deserves a second chance at happiness. She has tried to make amends with me several times and I am pretty sure that I should forgive her, but I just can’t. Not yet. It's still too raw. I really think I am entitled to be petty about this. For so long, I fended for myself. I learned how to do everything way too young. Cooking, cleaning, shopping; I did it all.
I lied about my age when I was thirteen to get a job at a mom and pop grocery store. It was within walking distance. I didn't want to have to rely on anyone to help me get there. I made just enough money to keep the electricity on and the monthly rent for the space our trailer was parked. Thank God my mom owned that trailer or I would have been shit out of luck. I am not proud of the fact that I stole essentials like laundry soap, body wash, tampons, and ramen noodles from my job. That couple trusted me, but I kept track of everything I stole.
With my last paycheck, I tried to pay back the $938 worth of stuff I stole over the five years I worked there, but they wouldn't let me. I only stole cheap stuff, not that it makes it any better, but still they refused to take the money. My boss said she knew what I was doing all along and let it go. Mrs. Greble knew my mom. Knew what she was like. Knew that I was neglected, unloved. I cried that day because I thought I was really good at hiding my disastrous home life. Turns out, I wasn’t. Who else knew what was going on? Why did no one help me? These questions are moot now, but I'd have been interested in knowing back when it was happening.
Two years ago, I graduated from high school and immediately set out to be a tattoo artist. My friend Felicity gave me a shot doing what I love and I am forever grateful to her. I have been trying to show my worth, but it’s hard since I don’t really know my worth.
Are you surprised that I don’t think I am worth a grain of salt? I am getting better, I promise, but again it’s hard.
“Shaynah, can you man the phones for a bit? I have a doctor’s appointment,” Felicity says coming into my station. Her husband, Parker, is standing by her side trying not to roll his eyes.
“Sure thing, girl,” I say, laughing. We have had a problem keeping receptionists ever since Felicity got pregnant. Her hormones are all over the place and all of the girls have rubbed her the wrong way. I watch out the front window of the shop as Parker opens the passenger door for his wife and helps her in. I want that. I want to mean something to someone.
Sighing forlornly, I grab my Kindle from my bag and sit at the front desk. The phone rings a few times and I make two consultation appointments for Star, one of our tattoo artists. Give that girl a tattoo gun and she can make magic happen. I get back to my book. I am so engrossed in the amazing sex scene written by my favorite author, Elisa Leigh, that I don’t hear anyone come in the door. There’s even a bell. A throat clears above me, scaring the shit of me. My hand flies to my chest.
“You scared the bejesus outta me,” I cry.
“Sorry, ma’am. I am looking to speak to a tattoo artist.” I look up at the man who is standing in front of me. Oh shit! He’s so handsome. Like clean and handsome. Not at all the kind of man I am familiar with, not that I am actually familiar with any man.
“Alright. You’ve come to the right place. The Tattooed Vixen is here to help you with all your tattooing needs.” I swallow thickly. He is making me squirmy. He looks like the boy next door and entirely too good for me.
“This will be my first tattoo. I want to rebel a little before I settle down into what’s expected of me,” he says.
“Well, I don’t know too much about that. You should always do the unexpected.”
“I think you’re right…” he says trailing off so that I’ll give him my name. I smile and blush just a little bit.
“Shaynah Gilmore,” I say extending my hand to him.
“Blake Worthington,” he replies. When his hand engulfs mine, I shiver. His touch is somehow rough and gentle at the same time. I can’t help imagining what his touch would feel like on every other inch of my skin. I don’t ever think about men like this, but he makes my mind and my ovaries go into overdrive.
“Alright, Blake. Do you know what you want?” I ask. I know I can’t do his tattoo without Star or F
elicity here, but I can get it drawn up for him.
“I have no idea. What would you suggest?”
“Tattoos are really personal, Blake. I suggest looking over these books over here,” I stay standing up and walking around the reception desk. He groans when he sees my body. I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not, so I direct him over to the waiting area. “I’ll, uh, be over here if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” he says sitting on the leather couch.
He doesn’t look at me again and it hurts more than it should.
I should have known he was not for me.
I go back to my book since there is nothing else for me to do right now where Blake Worthington is concerned.
So why can’t I stop staring at him?
2
Blake Worthington
I knew coming in here today would be a good idea. Probably the best idea I’ve ever had. When I woke up this morning, I knew something needed to change. I'm burnt out. I figured a tattoo would be the easiest thing. I used my phone to look up tattoo places within twenty minutes of my place. The first one to pop up was this one, so I jumped in my Escalade and headed over. All the parking spaces were free in the front.
As soon as she looked up from her book I knew she was going to be mine. I can feel it in my soul. I sit on the leather couch looking through the books she set down, but nothing is jumping out at me. I don’t know what I want, but I am pretty sure I am not going to find it in these binders.
“So Shaynah, I think I am wanting something custom. Do you guys do that?” I ask her after walking back over to the counter.
“Of course. What did you have in mind?” she asks, grabbing a piece of paper from the stack on the table next to her.
“I am studying to be a doctor, but I know I don't want anything to do with that. I'm Irish, maybe a Celtic symbol of some kind.” I hate how douchey it sounds when I say that, but it is the truth. Why did I even bother to say that shit?
“Wow. Really. That is so cool. So you are in med school?”
“I am. I have four years left.”
“That’s such a commitment.” Her bright blue eyes are shining as she looks at me. Fuck. I want this girl with every fiber of my being.
“It is,” I answer simply.
“Let me think about this. Can you come back tomorrow? I’ll have some mockups for you,” she says brushing her long black hair back from her eyes. God, I want her spread out on my bed, taking my cock more than I want my next breath.
“That sounds good,” I say grabbing the business card she hands me.
“My cell number is on there if something comes up,” she says shyly. I pound the card edge on the counter. I know I’ll regret it if I don’t ask her out now.
“Can I take you out to dinner tonight?” I ask.
“You wanna take me out to dinner tonight?” she asks incredulously.
“I do.”
“Um, okay,” she says quietly.
“Let me give you my number, you know, in case something comes up,” I say chuckling.
“Nothing is going to come up,” she says quickly.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” I say under my breath. She gasps then starts laughing.
“Well, we’ll just have to see where the night goes, won’t we?”
“I guess we will,” I say winking at her. “What time do you get off?”
“Eight, tonight. It’s our early night,” she says. It makes sense, seeing as it’s Tuesday.
“I’ll pick you up here at eight then.”
“What should I wear?” she asks looking down at lap.
“What you have on is fine with me,” I say. It’s probably not appropriate to tell her I want her wearing nothing at all so soon, so I’ll just keep that to myself.
“I was thinking that I’d make you dinner if that’s okay with you,” I ask gauging her response.
“Oh, yeah. That’s fine with me,” she replies eagerly.
“Perfect. See you at eight,” I say. Everything in me wants to kiss her, but I refrain.
“See you then,” she says and I leave though I don’t really want to. At the door, I stop and look back at her and she’s looking at me. I grin and give her a cocky little wave.
In my car, I look at the clock on the dashboard. What the fuck am I going to do for five hours while she’s still working? I shake my head and pull out of the parking spot and head to the grocery store. I make a mean baked spaghetti, so I grab everything I need for the meal. I also grab something for dessert but I skip the bottle of wine since I don’t think she is old enough for that. Back at my house, which I bought with some of my inheritance, I dump everything I just bought in the kitchen and set about cleaning up the place. My class schedule is rigorous and cleaning isn’t high on my list of priorities, but I am on a break right now.
Come to think of it, women have never been a priority for me either. I have never even been on so much as one date before. I have done everything that was ever expected of me since I was about ten years old. Is it terrible that I don’t really want to be a doctor? Everyone in my immediate family is a doctor. My mom is a gynecologist, my dad is a proctologist, my sister is a pediatric surgeon, and my brother is a cardiologist. The only thing we ever talk about are related to being a doctor or their patients. It’s gotten to be so much that I avoid them like the plague.
At first, it was easy to just go along with it, but after college and now about halfway through med school, I just can’t anymore. I'm at my wits end. I always wanted to do something with my hands. Making furniture has always been my hobby, frowned upon in case I irreparably damage my hands, so I haven’t done it in years. Even after my brief meeting with Shaynah, I feel like taking it up again would be easy. Fuck everything else.
Speaking of Shaynah, she’s absolutely gorgeous. I am not ashamed to admit that I watched her thick ass sway as she walked away from me earlier. God, her skin tight jeans made my cock hard. It’s more than her looks. She seems sad somehow, and I want nothing more than to take care of her, for the rest of my life. I have never felt more sure about something.
I prep dinner and watch the clock. At twenty to eight, I make my way back to The Tattooed Vixen and to my future.
3
Shaynah
I couldn’t concentrate on anything when he left. Nothing save for his tattoo. I have become obsessed with getting my hands on his skin. He sounded different when he was talking about med school, and it was nothing like pride. It was more like disdain. I really hope I read him right.
Even after Felicity came back, I stayed at the reception desk for the rest of the afternoon, skipping lunch. I’ve sketched about fifteen different tattoos for him to look at.
“What are you working on Shay?” Felicity asks me around five-thirty.
“A custom for a guy that came in earlier,” I say not looking up from my sketch.
“A guy? What guy?”
“Blake Worthington.”
“Of the Savannah Worthington’s?” she asks arching her left eyebrow at me.
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I say, shrugging. She whips her phone out and looks something up.
“Is this him?” she asks shoving her phone in my face.
“Yep,” I say.
“Holy shit. They are rich. Mega rich,” she says whistling. “He’s a trust fund baby.”
“What?” I ask, finally looking up.
“He’s rich, girl. I bet he tips good,” she says laughing.
“Felicity. Come on. I, uh, agreed to go out with him tonight.” I say rather dramatically. “I didn’t think to ask if you had any rules about dating a customer. It’s never come up before.”
“No. No rules about it, besides he’s not a customer yet,” she says winking at me.
“Oh my God, Felicity. Do you think he knows how poor I am and this is some kind of frat boy prank on the thick girl?” I am hyperventilating right now.
“Shaynah Marie, you need to chill the fuck out. This isn’t a movie. Re
al men don’t do things like that. Besides, you are not thick, girl. You are gorgeous.”
“But how do I know that?”
“Did it feel like that?” she asks hands on her hips.
“No, not at all. It felt kind of magical. I mean, shit, I am probably reading too much into this date.”
“You’re not. What did he say?”
“He wants to cook me dinner at his place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Nothing. That’s just like fifth date behavior after you’ve already had sex. But what do I know? I didn’t date before Parker,” she says giggling. “Are you, you know, prepared to have sex tonight?”
“Who’s having sex tonight?” Star asks walking up to the counter, going through the messages I took this afternoon.
“Oh my God. No. I am not at all prepared. I can’t even remember the last time I shaved my legs.”
“Go home and get ready,” Felicity says.
“He’s picking me up here at eight.”
“Then you better hurry.”
“Who’s she having sex with?” I hear Star ask as I grab my purse and all but run to my car. I’ll let Felicity explain this one.
At my shitty little apartment, I quickly jump in the shower and shave everything only cutting my shin three times while I do so. I blow dry my hair quickly and moisturize. I admire my tattoos for a minute. I have a lotus blossom with mandalas on my shoulder. I got that in search of Zen. I still haven’t really found it. I also have a large circle of roses on my outer thigh. I also have several red hearts all over the tops of my boobs. Those were my first. A friend did them at a tattoo party when I was sixteen. Hey, they were cute and it was free. I stare at myself in the mirror. I am not fat, per se, but there is definitely more to love. I decide at this moment to be more confident than I ever have been before. I like this guy, a lot, and I am determined to have a good time tonight, wherever that may lead.
