“I thought you just wanted to get me naked,” he says dryly.
“No such chance,” I reply, doing my best to sound cool and collected. “I’m in work mode. That thing was distracting me. Now it’s not.”
I resume the shading, without having to worry about anything in my peripheral vision competing for attention.
Or so I think.
I have maybe thirty minutes of work left. I keep inking, dabbing away blood, assessing my work. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I’m in the zone now, and this is going to be a badass fucking tattoo.
I sit up to stretch my back muscles and notice that Ramirez’s shirt is slightly elevated over his cock. Not a lot, but it’s noticeable.
It this fucker actually getting a boner on my table?
I ignore it and go back to work. Another couple of minutes pass before I become acutely aware that the T-shirt has now formed a tent. Glancing toward his face, I see that he’s still lying back, eyes closed. Back to the tent my eyes go. There’s no mistaking it, that’s a full-on erection under that shirt.
Not saying anything, I continue my shading, but seconds later the tent moves. I look over out of the corner of my eye and wait, and sure enough, it moves again. He’s twitching or throbbing or something under there, and I can’t focus on my work.
“Really, Link?” I say, growing frustrated.
“What?” he says, keeping his eyes closed.
“You know what.”
Now he opens his eyes and looks right at the pyramid that’s formed over his crotch.
“Oh, that. Is it a problem?”
“Yes, it’s a problem. I can’t work with you like that. It’s distracting.”
“Sorry,” he says, “but it’s an involuntary reflex. Probably caused by you running around in your panties and all.” Is that a smile? A smirk? It’s hard to tell, but I know he’s getting a kick out of this. What a smartass.
Meanwhile, there’s a large naked man on my table with a nasty hard-on, and I’ve got a tattoo to finish. I’ve been working all day and I’m tired. Desperate, my brain comes up with a solution.
I move up the side of the table into his view.
“These panties?” I ask, playfully pointing my butt towards him.
Ramirez says nothing, his eyes fixated on my Hello Kitty ass.
“Did I get you all excited?” I don’t think he realizes this stupid sexy flirting is an act. “I’m so sorry.”
I move down the table and stare directly at the tented shirt, then look back into his eyes and bite my lip. This is almost too easy.
I hover the tip of my index finger over the very top of the pyramid, lowering it little by little until it just touches.
“Well, look what I’ve gone and done. Me and my little panties.”
He’s looking at me intently as I remove my hand and strut to my tool chest, sliding open a drawer to retrieve a plastic bottle inside. Then I open another drawer and grab a hand towel. I turn back towards him and hold them up so he can see.
“What’s that?” he asks, looking at the bottle.
“Baby oil. We’re going to have to deal with your little issue before we can continue.”
As I approach the table, his cock again twitches under the cotton shirt. I ignore it and walk back up to his upper torso. I smile and stare into his eyes, saying, “We have to do something to make that thing go back down again.”
Then I set the oil and the towel on his belly and head off toward the break room.
“Call me when you’re done so we can finish up, okay? And try not to get anything on the tattoo.”
That’ll teach him to play around with me. Ramirez says nothing and I sit at the break room table, allowing myself to take a few deep breaths.
Who the fuck is this guy?
I’ve seen inadvertent erections while tattooing guys before. It happens rarely, and the subjects are usually mortified, or at least sheepishly embarrassed. Ramirez, on the other hand, was using his hard-on to play with me, to provoke a reaction.
Now I’m sitting in my break room in panties while he jerks himself off so I can focus on my job again. Just when I picture that thick cock again and remember touching it through the T-shirt with the tip of my finger, he calls to me.
“Done. Come on back.”
That was fast. I’ve only been here a minute. I push through the curtains, half expecting to see him standing there naked, still with a raging boner. Instead, he’s lying on the table again, the shirt draped chastely over his apparently flaccid penis.
He hands me the lube, and I notice the towel on the floor.
“All better now?” I ask snarkily.
Ramirez doesn’t reply, and I sit back on my stool. Grabbing my shader, I move the T-shirt aside a little with my left hand and get back to work on finishing the piece.
Another fifteen minutes and I sit up, dab the last little bit of blood from his thigh, and admire my handiwork. This tattoo is gorgeous, even better than I’d imagined.
“Finished,” I say. “Wanna take a look?”
I walk over to the full-length mirror and hear him climb off the table. In the mirror, I see him walking towards me with the shirt in one hand and his cock again exposed.
I turn to him, being careful not to look at the damned thing. I roll my eyes and say, “Seriously?”
“Oh shit, that’s fucking amazing,” he exclaims in that rumble of a voice. He’s looking past me at his reflection in the mirror. “Jesus, you’re really good.”
The praise makes me blush more than his nudity, which I’m almost getting used to at this point. He turns and looks at the tattoo for a minute, tilting his head. I look at it, too, stealing glances at his exposed manhood. It really is an impressing piece of work—the tattoo, that is. And the manhood, I suppose. My uncooperative mind decides this is the perfect time to imagine him jerking off on my tattoo table. That causes me to look at the floor, but standing just behind him, I can also see that muscular ass again.
Jesus, I’ve got to get this man back in his clothes quickly.
“Come on, let me cover it so we can get out of here.” The clock at my stations says it’s nearly eleven-thirty.
I gesture for him to get back up on the table and he does, lying on his back with his T-shirt still in his hand. I wordlessly take it from him and cover him again, then get my plastic wrap and tape and carefully protect the tattoo.
“You know the drill,” I say. “Keep it moisturized, stay out of water and the sun until it's healed, and don't pick at it.”
“The tattoo, right?” He smiles for a second, then says, “Put your pants back on, Raven, I’m gonna buy you a drink.”
I had somehow forgotten I’m not wearing pants. I grab my jeans.
“I appreciate the offer, Link, but I’m really tired.”
I sit to slip my legs into my pants as he puts on his underwear. I realize I didn’t learn a lesson from before when I look up and see his cock at eye level. Before I can avert my eyes, it disappears under the material.
Finally, though, it’s out of sight.
“Nonsense,” he says.
As I stand to zip my pants, I see a lettered tattoo on his right ribcage that I’d noticed earlier, but didn’t want to look at closely while he was naked on the table. It’s Latin, so I have no idea what it says. I’m about to ask when he puts his shirt on. Oh, well.
“Come on, let’s go,” he says.
“How about we take a rain check?” I ask, trying to politely refuse his invitation. “I still have to clean up my station before I go home.”
He grabs his jacket and then hands me mine.
“Clean it up tomorrow. I want to thank you for your incredible artistry.”
Wow. I love hearing that, especially via that voice.
“Really, Link, I’d love to, but not—”
He steps in front of me, only a foot away and towering above me, then looks down into my eyes. This man is so fucking big, yet I’m not scared at all. There’s a gentleness in there somewhere, I can
feel it. Then just as quickly, it’s gone, and he’s scowling at me.
“No excuses. Just one drink.”
Without waiting for my reply, Ramirez walks toward the front door, grabbing his helmet from the coat rack. I assess my cluttered station. I suppose I can clean up tomorrow. One drink won’t hurt, and lord knows, I’ve earned it after this long day.
I go to the back, turning off all the main lights and turning on the security lights and alarm. Then I follow him to the front door and unlock it.
“My car’s around back. I’ll meet you here in a minute.”
“No need. I’ll drive.”
He steps out to his Harley and straddles it.
“I don’t have a helmet,” I say. “I can’t ride without one, it’s illegal.”
Ramirez holds his helmet out to me. “You can use mine.”
I stare at him. He can’t be that stupid.
“It’s illegal for either of us to ride without a helmet.”
“You really think any cop in Hollywood is going to give me a ticket right now?”
He’s got a point. The guy’s a hero at the moment.
He brazenly looks down, then back up, taking in a nice, long view of my body. It lasts for maybe two seconds, then finally his gaze comes back to my eyes. It was just long enough to make me realize with surprise that I actually like being looked at by him in that very sexual way.
Uh-oh. Where is this leading?
I take the helmet and strap it on, then throw my leg over the seat and climb on behind him.
“Hold tight,” he says as the engine starts with a guttural roar.
I spread my legs wide and scoot into him, wrapping my arms around his thick waist and clamping my thighs against him.
The sensation is startling. I love this huge body, the way it feels against me. It’s thrillingly sexy and somewhat dangerous, yet I know I’m completely safe at the same time. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that combination before, and it’s intoxicating.
Then he guns the throttle and I suddenly feel the vibrations in my clit as we drive off.
11
Link
I knew from the moment I walked into her shop that I could separate Raven from her pants.
Just like I know right now, as Jimmy the bartender sets down our second drinks, that I’m going to be all up in her hot little pussy in another hour or two. She’s like a ripe fig, about to drop from the branch.
Me stripping down while she was doing my tattoo? That was a no-brainer, with the shop closed and nobody else around. When she first opened the door for me and I saw how nervous she was, her forehead glistening with sweat and those tits swaying under her T-shirt, I decided I was going to fuck her. My interaction with Jackie earlier in the week was intense, but not really satisfying. Something bugged me about her being in a position of power over me. Even though she gave up those reigns for a little while, we both still knew who was in charge. I guess I just like being the dominant one in every respect when it comes to women I sleep with. Submission is not my thing.
So, I tricked Raven into taking off her pants and I got to check out her cute ass and toned thighs. Not to mention a few choice tattoos on both thighs and both calves. She’s one hot little bitch and I immediately wanted to know what those tattooed thighs would feel like wrapped around me.
“Okay, what about you, Link?”
She shifts on her barstool, turning to face me. That first drink helped and she’s more relaxed now. Raven has just finished giving me the basics about her life. Grew up in Bakersfield and escaped to LA as soon as she graduated from high school. Community college for a couple of years while waitressing, then decided to get into tattooing. Seven years later, she owns her own shop, thanks to a nice inheritance her grandmother left her. Never married and no kids, though she might want both some day.
“What do you want to know?” I ask. I’ve never been one to divulge any more than I have to.
“Where you grew up? Siblings? School? I just don’t want to be the only one talking here.”
There’s that great fucking smile again. Nice lips, too. Beautiful eyes. Fucking her tonight is going to be a real treat.
“I grew up just outside of Denver. Only child. Went to Colorado State for a few months, partied a lot, then dropped out and moved to LA with a friend a few years later.”
“Were you a good kid?” she asks.
“I was a great kid. My parents were the monsters.”
She seems surprised. “Why do you say that?”
I consider going there, because there’s a sweetness about Raven that makes me think she’d understand. Then again, I don’t even like thinking about that shit, much less talking about it with someone I barely know.
“I’d rather not get into all that.”
She starts to say something, then takes another sip of her vodka-whatever instead. I can tell the alcohol is doing its thing, because her cheeks are slightly flushed and unlike when we first arrived, she doesn’t seem a little scared anymore. She loved my choice of bars, a little dive called Firewater at the wrong end of Sunset.
Raven suddenly laughs, out of nowhere. I arch an eyebrow and she says, “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into taking off my pants. I’ve never done a tattoo in panties before.”
“Hey, you saw more than I did.”
“Well, you kept taking off more clothes,” she protests. “I told you to keep your underwear on. You just wanted me to check out your junk, you pervert.”
She’s right about that. But I won’t tell her.
“Not true. I was just trying to make it easy for you. I didn’t want you to fuck up my tattoo.”
“You think that made it easier? Seriously?”
I level my eyes at her. “I’ve got no problem with nudity. It’s no big deal.”
“Obviously,” she says. “I don’t either, for the record. But you were distracting me from my work, Link.”
Raven suddenly giggles, then hits me hard on the upper bicep. She yelps and pulls her fist back, rubbing it
“What was that for?” I demand.
“That’s for getting a boner while I was tattooing you. You really are a perv.”
Yeah, she’s got a bit of a buzz.
“I couldn’t help it. Every time I closed my eyes I pictured your butt in those panties.”
“Still, I’m a professional and it was disrespectful.” I can tell she’s half serious, half kidding.
“Was it professional to touch my cock?”
“I didn’t!” she protests. “Just barely! Only my fingertip. And you totally thought I was going to give you a handjob, didn’t you? I could see it in your eyes!” Her laugh is as smooth as fine tequila.
I allow a smile, then dial it back.
“Honestly? Yeah, I did. You got me. Props to you. Well played.”
I lift my nearly empty beer glass to her, and she clinks her tumbler against it.
“Another round,” I tell Jimmy.
“No, Link, I can’t. I’ve got to drive home from the shop. And work tomorrow, too.”
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“Are you having fun?”
Raven sighs and I can see the wheels turning in her head.
“Okay, one more. But this is the last one.”
“Deal.”
Half an hour later, I’m on my fourth beer. I weigh over three hundred pounds, though, so I’ve just got a pleasant buzz. Raven, on the other hand, finished her third drink and keeps taking sips of my beer. She’s a fun girl, very likable. That’s on top of her being pretty hot, looks-wise. It’s an intriguing combination, especially when she’s loosened up and a little silly, like she is now.
“Let’s play a game,” she says. “Like truth or dare, but without the dare part.”
“The dares are where the fun is.”
“Yeah, but I’m not drunk enough for that,” she says, touching my forearm. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We can ask each other anyth
ing and the other has to be completely honest.”
“Sure. Who goes first?”
“I will.” She thinks for a moment. “Were you even a little scared when you realized you had to disarm that guy at the Oscars?”
“No.”
“You have to be honest!”
“That’s the honest answer. I was focused on what I had to do. I didn’t have time to be afraid. Fear is counterproductive in that kind of situation.”
She looks into my eyes like she’s trying to ascertain whether I’m lying. Satisfied with what she sees, she nods and says, “Okay, your turn.”
“Were you upset when I got naked in front of you earlier?”
Raven looks away for a second. I wait to see if she’s going to tell the truth.
Turning back to me, she says simply, “No, I wasn’t. Okay, now me. You said you wanted me to take off my pants to distract you from the pain of the tattooing. Was that a lie?”
“No, it wasn’t. I’ve had enough experience with pain to know that good enough distraction can take your mind totally away from the source of the pain.”
“Oh, yeah? Did you enjoy your distraction?” she asks. That’s the buzz talking.
“Maybe,” I say. “Did you enjoy yours?”
She blushes. “Is that your question?” she asks as she takes another sip of my beer. “Because I’m not going to be honest about that unless I have to.”
I consider pushing her. Making her admit that she liked seeing my cock would be fun, but I hold off. Hell, her flushed cheeks tell me I’ve already succeeding in making her think about it again.
“No. Here’s my question: How old were you when you lost your virginity, and where did it happen?”
Raven sets down the glass. “I was fifteen and it was in Ronnie Kilgore’s parents’ bed. They were out of town that weekend. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad. I’d give it a solid five.”
“Here’s to Ronnie Kilgore,” I say as I finish the beer.
“How about you?” Raven asks.
“What?”
“How old were you when you first learned about sex?”
I can feel myself growing cold from the inside out.
“Ask a different question.”
Hollywood Bad Boys Club, Book 4: Link Page 7
