Putting it in drive and pushing the pedal all the way to the floor, my tires began screeching against the asphalt as I was slung back into the seat. I was glad that I chose that moment to look over at her because the damn girl was running for my vehicle at full speed. I didn’t know what the hell was up with her, but she was about to be plastered to the road.
When she came to a stop at the opening to the parking lot, I about lost my shit. It was like it was in slow motion. My foot lifted from the accelerator and pressed down on the brake. The distinct sound and smell of the rubber sliding across the pavement damn near had me in fits. As the car came to a stop just inches from her, I gazed at her in equal parts desire and fury—desire because that was the hottest thing I believe I’ve ever seen, and fury because she ultimately put herself in the line of danger.
Opening my car door, I got out. As I came around to the front of the car I didn’t know whether to spank the ever loving shit out of her or to kiss those pouty, cherry-colored lips.
“What the—” was all I could get out before she jumped into my arms and her lips firmly planted themselves on mine.
I must be insane, but my arms wrapped around her as I let myself get lost in the most earth-shattering kiss I’ve ever had. Our tongues began dueling with each other, seeing which one was going to come away the victor. This was no longer the inexperienced woman that I had so long ago. She was now a woman that knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. So fucking hot!
Her body literally melted against my chest as a tiny whimper escaped her lips. My groan came out more like a growl. I have been jonesing for a kiss from her for all these years. I thought that maybe back then what I felt was some sort of a fluke, that there was no way I could feel like that with a woman from the first kiss; but fuck, had I been so wrong. It fucking rocks. She was everything that I thought she would be and more. However, all too soon her lips pulled away from mine. I must have been so lost that my head moved with hers.
“What was that for?” I ask, clearing my throat so I didn’t sound as if I were hitting puberty for the first time.
She giggles, and then says in a raspy voice, “It was because I wanted to.”
My arms felt like they were being weighed down with lead weights. My mouth instantly became dry as my thoughts sobered. “Because you wanted to?”
She squirms in my arms, so I let her go. She steps back with a little twinkle in her eyes and blows me a kiss before turning around and making her way across the parking lot to her car. It was unbelievable. Not only did the little vixen get me to stop my truck, but she got a kiss out of the deal. Damn! What happened to my guidelines, rules, and schedules? Who the hell was I turning into?
I lean back against my truck and watch her slip into her car and make her way from the bar. I couldn’t stop the smile that slowly spread across my face. She just gave me ammunition to use against her; how very thoughtful. Up until now I didn’t know if she was even the least bit attracted to me. But after that kiss, there was no doubt. If only my head and my body would get on the same page of not needing her, then I’d be set.
Shaking my head, I went back around the vehicle and got inside. I shut the door and just sat there thinking about the feel of her lips pressed against mine. The only reason I made my presence known earlier was to see how quick she was to get embarrassed. Man, how she turned the game around on me. Putting the truck in drive, I glanced all around me before pressing the gas and leaving the parking lot. During the entire ride home, the only thing I thought about was her lips pressing against mine and the way she felt in my arms.
Chapter Five
Sinclair
It's been a week since he came into the shop—one long-ass week of constantly looking over my shoulder. Being a tattoo artist, it gets tiring doing that when you have other things to focus on. To say that I was a little on edge would be an understatement. I basically taunted him, and then ran away before anything could get started. I’m sure that he doesn’t remember me—almost positive of that fact. And since he doesn’t remember me, the kiss kind of came from left field. It wasn’t one of my better judgments, but I took my mother’s advice and went for what I wanted. Now, though, I was regretting it.
It wasn’t the kiss I was regretting, because that kiss was fucking awesome. It was the brain fart that caused the kiss in the first place. Now every time he comes in here I’m going to have to disappear because of the embarrassment. I can't really tattoo and be embarrassed at the same time. The people I’m tattooing on may take my blushing cheeks for anything other than shame. Yes, I was ashamed of myself for doing something like that. I never exercise good decision-making when it comes to someone like Alex Pierce.
If Triple-A found out what I did, he would shit kittens. He may be my little boy, but he’s fierce when he wants to be. I guess that’s another thing he gets from his dad. Lucky me to get a kid that is so dug out of his dad’s ass that I have to be constantly reminded of that fact. I had wanted it to be more than a one-night stand between Alex and me, but that never happened. So, a one-night stand is what Pierce and I had, and always will have.
“You going to come back to the land of the living, Sin?” James asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“But the dead is a lot better company,” I joke, winking. “Just imagine all the fun we have. Ah, it's bliss.”
He looks at me like I’ve grown a third head overnight. The sight is actually quite funny to say the least. Just imagine a big bald man that looks like he’s meant for prison instead of a tattoo shop standing next to the counter, cocking a pierced eyebrow and wearing a ‘huh’ face. It was freaking hilarious.
“Sin… Um, to be honest, that’s kinda scary.”
I roll my eyes and begin setting up the ink for my next tattoo—a skull with a long-stem rose in its mouth. I don’t pay attention to James as I settle myself into my seat. When he gets the hint that I do not plan to talk to him anymore, he leaves, grumbling the whole time.
In truth, I do that just because I know he’ll leave me alone. I guess it’s a kind of self-preservation technique—one that I’ve mastered. I’m not the type of person who likes having a lot of people around me. Give me a good book, a glass of wine, maybe even a good fuck—where the man goes home after—and I’m good. I don’t get where all these women think they need to be around someone every hour of every day.
That’s not me.
I’ve never been the type of person to want excessive amounts of attention. Hell, most of the men that I’ve been with would vouch for that. I also wasn’t the one to call back many of the men that I have been with. I know what you’re thinking; she’s a whore. No, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I can count on one hand how many times that I’ve been with a man. Yes, I’m almost thirty and I’ve only had five sexual partners. That’s pretty unheard of to today’s standards, but it’s who I am.
“Psst!”
I smile and continue with what I am doing.
“Psst!”
I roll my eyes as I snap my gloves in place. I hear a growl of frustration before the light from the front door is cut off—my mother. I thought she was lying when she threatened to come to the shop last week. Oh, how wrong I was! She’s been here since opening this morning as well as every morning after our conversation. She is bound and determined to get my lid flipped.
“I’m not going to say, psst again, baby girl,” she says, tapping the counter with her knuckles.
I giggle. “You just did, Momma,” I joke.
I peer through my lashes to see her face change from a pale cream to a rosy red. Oh, shit. I should’ve known better than to try and ignore her. Damn, it was one of her pet peeves. She used to do some sick shit when we were younger because we ignored her. Trust me, I would rather put up with her mouth than walk around with a perfect circle on my forehead for a month again. Let me just tell you… You never, ever, fall asleep around this woman once you’ve pissed her off. You could wake up with all kinds of shit glued to your body. A
penis on your forehead, for instance—which has happened. And I’m not talking about one of those drawings or anything like that. I’m talking about a damn nine-inch long, flopping-all-over-the-place dildo, stuck right between your motherfucking eyes, and it takes hours to get the adhesive to give way so you can get it off.
They’ve never told me what she did to my dad, though. But damn, what they do say would have you in stitches. As I’ve said, ignoring my mother is a big pet peeve of hers. Well, what do you think my father did? If you guessed that he ignored her, you would be correct. From what they say, it lasted all of three months before my dad finally gave in to her. You can only imagine the shit my mom did to him. I mean, she put a dildo on my forehead for Christ’s sake—her own child. I can just imagine what she did to my dad. I’m surprised he’s not dead and cold in the ground by now. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. They’re living blissfully happy and getting ready to celebrate their thirty-four-year anniversary. Apart from all the fucked-up-ness that happens around their house, that’s a feat all on its own.
“You little shit.” She points a finger at me and narrows her eyes. “Just remember, I can always call your father or brothers.”
I shake my head as I get up from my stoop. “Jacobs!” I yell. “Tattoo time, hot stuff!” I sit back down and wait for my client to come and grace me with his presence.
I look back up to my mom, cock my head, and smile. “Momma, call Daddy. But be sure to ask him who his little girl is.” I put my hands under my chin like I’m posing for a photo, all the while batting my eyelashes. The only thing I get in return is a middle finger and a seething mom that heads to her seat by the door.
I move my stool as the man I presume is Jacobs comes to a stop in front of the tattoo chair. He’s a nice looking man, but everything about him just screams average. At least, I won't be distracted while I’m doing his tattoo. I sigh, watching as he pulls the shirt over his head like he’s a stripper. I could laugh; it’s like he's trying to get a rise out of me.
Sorry about your luck, Chuck. My female boner isn't going to rise to the occasion for someone like you.
All his bicep flexing before sitting is just overkill. I roll my eyes and pick up the carbon printout of his tattoo, put my foot piece to the gun next to the table with a nudge from my foot, and gesture for him to lie down so I can easily reach his pectoral muscle. After shaving his nearly hairless chest, I rub the transfer gel on him and snicker when he visibly shivers from the coolness of it. I remove the paper and pickup my gun, buzzing it a few times before submerging the needle into the black ink.
“You need to be still,” I say. “Considering this is your first tattoo, the pain may be a little different from what you’re used to.”
He chuckles. “Bring it on, sexy.”
And I think I just vomited in my mouth.
“Just forewarning you.”
He shrugs. “I’m sure I can handle it. I am a man after all.”
The only thing I can do is shake my head. A man. Seriously? That is the most ignorant thing anyone has ever said. It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman; a tattoo is a tattoo and it freaking hurts—no matter what! But you can’t tell some people this; they think they know everything. Instead of listening to someone that lives, breathes, and eats everything tattooing, they’ll only listen to themselves. Well, their reactions are the same and they’re funny as hell.
I stretch the skin between my pointer finger and thumb of my left hand. I touch the needle to his skin and buzz it for the first time. The moment the needle pierces his skin he lets out the most feminine squeal I think I’ve ever heard in my life. I immediately stop what I’m doing and lean back on my stool. I cock an eyebrow in question and the bastard starts to blush.
“So, I think it's safe to say that I was right and you should have listened.” I giggle, almost losing my shit over the green pallor overcoming his face.
“Yes, I would say that’s a safe assumption,” he frantically nods, wiping at the sweat that’s accumulating on his brow. He looks down and sees the tiny half-inch, black line before looking back up at me, and then he says, “But I guess I have to go through with it now, don’t I?”
I nod. “Yes, you do, because that looks like shit and you can’t just keep filling it in with a permanent marker over and over every day.”
He nods and I lean back over him. I look up at him to see him nod again in confirmation that I can start. I stretch the skin tight once again and start tattooing to my heart’s content with him squealing and grunting the entire time.
Just when I am about finished with the tattoo, I hear the bell over the door chime. Momentarily distracted from the job in front of me, I look up to see Triple-A walking toward me, a bright smile on his face, showing his pearly whites. I excuse myself from the man in the chair and go to greet my pride and joy. I get out of my seat and walk through the opening to my booth.
“Hey, baby boy,” I greet excitedly.
He blushes. “Mom, dang it, don’t talk like that.”
I giggle, pinch his masculine cheek, and bring him in for a hug. “You’ll always be my baby boy.”
He may try to act like he is too old to be called my baby boy, but I can tell he isn’t too old to give his old mom a hug. He may try to put on a tough guy show in front of the kids in his class, but that’s all just a ploy. He just doesn’t want them to know how much he loves his momma. You know, teenage rebellion and all that.
“So, what are you doing here?” I ask, pulling away from him, and messing his damned fauxhawk in the process.
He bats my hand away and quickly goes to fix his hair in the mirror. If he’s doing that, then that only means one thing: he’s trying to impress someone. He’s thirteen—not thirty. He doesn’t need to impress someone at this age, but what do I know. I’m just the mother.
“I just came by to see if I could get a few bucks. A bunch of the guys and I want to go to the arcade later.”
I smile, and then cock my head at him. “Just the guys?”
He blushes. I fucking knew it.
“Who is she?” I ask matter of fact.
He sighs and looks around the shop to see that everyone is staring at him. I can’t help the smile I desperately try to hold back. Many of the customers in here would think that he was my boyfriend or something. The only person that has his suspicions on whose boy Triple-A is would be James, but, thank God, he hasn’t let it slip.
“It’s Jessica Smith, Momma.”
I crack up at the blush creeping on his face. It would absolutely horrify him to know that I know all about Miss Jessica. It’s been a rather recent relationship that has formed between the two of them. However, I’m not holding Triple-A to the pact that he and I made. I believe the reason that I still use that myself is to make excuses when it comes to getting out and seeing other men. I guess I was that scapegoat of using my son as a pretext. It’s pretty shitty parenting, but it’s worked for me so far.
“You know where the tip jar is, baby boy. Get as much as you need to play games and buy her something to eat.”
His eyes shine at that, and I’m wrecked again with his pearly white smile. “Thanks, Momma. I promise I’ll be home before the streetlights come on, okay?”
I nod and lean my head to the side. He gives me a little kiss before going over to the tip jar and taking a couple twenties out. I see him hesitate before I walk over and take another twenty out of the jar and give to him. Even if he doesn’t realize it, he’s always watching out for the two of us. He was willing to take as little as he could just so we could have the money to survive. I love my baby boy. I’m so glad that I am raising him to be the best man he could ever be.
I go back to my seat and look back at the door just as he clicks it closed and takes off walking down the street. I don’t know what I would do without him. A lot of people complain that their kids destroyed their lives, but for me, that statement couldn’t be further from the truth.
Triple-A saved me.
Cha
pter Six
Alex
I can’t stand this anymore. It’s been a damn week and I’m about to bust a nut if I don’t see her again. How the hell am I supposed to get anything finished if all I think about is her? The way her eyes light up with mischief to the way I imagine her hair would look and feel wrapped around my fist as I roughly take her. This week has been the hardest week I’ve had for some time. All I see is Sin’s lovely face dancing behind my eyelids every time I close them.
I can’t think, walk, talk, or even jack off without thinking about her. It's driving me fucking insane. Up until now she was just the perverted girl that used to stare out her window in hopes of catching a peek of my junk, as well as a one-timer in the sack. In some cases, it was a turn on to know that I drove her so crazy that she felt the need to stalk me in private. It was definitely a boost to my ego. However, that had been over fourteen years ago. The only thing that I have to go on now was the kiss that she surprised me with the other night.
Damn, I can still feel the way her body melted against mine. Her soft whimpers and deep, lust-filled moans absolutely drive me insane with need every time I think about it. Just thinking about them bring on more X-rated thoughts. Every fucking time. It didn’t matter if I was in the middle of a board meeting at Pierce Security or if I was in the supermarket picking up a few groceries; the slightest thing set me off. Try hiding a damn erection from the women around you when you are in the condom aisle buying some necessities for later escapades. They all look at you with equal parts lust and embarrassment. It sucks. But no matter how hard I try not to think of her, she was always on my mind.
Beautifully Toxic (Toxic Love #1) Page 4
