5 Words: Paradox Ink Trilogy

by Melanie Walker

  “I get sick of going out with the rich and famous. It’s like that with Cal my whole life. I love them and I am so happy they are all living their dream, but I miss being a local and a nobody.”

  “How old are you? You’re young, enjoy the crazy while you can.” I get why he says it. He’s seen and lived his twenty-one, and probably wilder than me, so it seems odd I hate it.

  “I am twenty-one, almost twenty-two and I did love it, when I was sixteen and popularity was life. Now, I want to focus on the real world. I want to open a studio and choreograph, to become someone other than Cal Dorian’s sister and BFF to Lex.”

  He looks at me strangely. “What? Is that so hard to believe?”

  “No, not at all. I was a punk in my teens. Tattooing changed me. All I wanted was success, to make my name, and I started that path early on too.”

  “You see, it’s smart to want to build a life. I mean, you are BFF’s with Noah and Carrie. Like you own a studio with the Noah Beckett. You hang with my brother and the band, they are family to you. Don’t you get sick of the kiss-ass chicks and the attention?”

  He nods indifferently. “I see what you are saying and there are moments I don’t vibe well in that atmosphere, but I don’t really give a fuck either. People wanna get nosey and see how the other half live, like it’s so much better. The other half live like us, that’s what everyone fails to see. So, fuck em’, Pet. Be you and do you, even if it’s in the limelight.”

  I want to melt at his words because I agree with it. The other half are as normal as the everyday Joe crowd. “Okay then, shots!” I shout. I hop off my barstool and cut through the crowd to the bar. I feel a hand at the small of my back and turn to see Sully standing behind me protectively. “I could have brought you one!” I yell.

  “I just got through listening to you tell me you hate this crowded bullshit, I won’t make you go it alone. All for one and shit.”

  I laugh. “Do you like Tequila?”

  When he nods, I order six shots of Patron and open a tab on my card letting the bartender know we are in the new VIP.

  We each shoot one as we are at the bar, then grab the remaining four, and head back to the velvet roped paradise.

  Once we are sitting, we reach for another shot. “No limes or salt?” He asks, and I lift my beer.

  “I can chase with this!” I yell, as we cheer to being the silent ones in the mass and throw them back.

  By the time we are both heavily buzzed, neither of us care about the crowd. A boldness I call Tequila takes root and I stand in front of Sully, my chest flush with his face from his position on the barstool. “I think we should bail and go back to your room.”

  His hand sneaks around my hip, barely on my ass, as he pulls me in closer so he can speak into my ear. “Why not your room, Pet?”

  I laugh and roll my eyes. “My roomy is Lex and I don’t need America’s hottest thing watching me suck your dick.”

  He throws his head back and laughs in disbelief. “The mouth on you.”

  “I speak the truth, Sully. You are mine tonight.” I slip my fingers under the collar of the button up Armani tux he loosened after we left the award ceremony.

  “Yeah? Well, I guess we need to close the tab out than,” he says, as he reaches for his wallet and the AmEx inside.

  “Tabs in my name,” I say. I go to pull away from him and look for the waitress so I can close it out, but he stops me as he waves her over.

  “Not gonna happen, Pet. I put it on me when you were in the bathroom.” I wanted to protest as he handed his credit card to the server, but he pulled me in against his mouth and all thought escaped me immediately.

  All I knew was his mouth on mine. He had been my crush for years. That untouchable perfection, like a Monet, only his canvas was skin, and he wore the glory of its beauty. Now, he was kissing me, taking me home, and paying my tab.

  Hell yes, I was going home with Sully.

  The kiss ended too soon for my liking, but he pulled me close and held me, kind of grinding on me to ‘Crow and the Butterfly’ by Shinedown. I committed the song to memory as he sang horribly mind you, in my ear.

  I loved it. Every off key note he sang, because he really didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. It was intoxicating and new. I loved it.

  He kept singing as he led us out of the bar, spinning me once we were on the sidewalk, singing louder. ‘Just like a crow chasing a butterfly…” He pointed to himself as the crow and me as the butterfly and I melted.

  We sang as we danced the two blocks to the Hotel, loud and obnoxious, and not giving a shit at the looks we were getting as we entered the lobby. It was thrilling to live in the moment and something I rarely did anymore. “Excuse me?” The concierge said in a pissed off tone that made us laugh harder.

  “Sorry!” I yell over my shoulder as Sully pulled me into the elevator, then pinned me to the wall, all Fifty Shades.

  “Never say sorry for having fun, Pet,” he said as the doors closed. He secured my hands over my head as he licked a trail from behind my ear down to my breasts that were covered by my dress. The heat of his mouth penetrated the fabric and I could feel my nipple peak in anticipation for his mouth on my skin.

  “Sully…” I pant, but he smothers my words with his mouth. His tongue touching against mine. Soft at first, then fully taking what he wanted, leaving my lips raw and swollen when he pulled back.

  He gripped my hair in his fist and tipped my head back exposing it for his desire. “I can’t wait to fuck you, Mya. You are nothing like I thought, Pet.” His words were spoken between kisses that made me shiver, until he reached my jaw and pulled back. “I want you so fucking bad.”

  The door opened before I could find words that told him I felt the same. He let my hands fall from over my head and pulled me to the door of his room. His hands were everywhere as he fumbled with the key card to get us inside.

  “You understand what you’re doing, Pet?” He asks as the door shuts behind us. I swear, I love being called that. It isn’t generic or cheesy, it’s Sully. Jenny once described him as both magnanimous and lethal, depending on who he was dealing with. I get it. I feel both sides from him now.

  “I’m young, not a child, Sully.” I place my hand on his cock, hard and straining through the tuxedo pants. I lean in licking his bottom lip before biting it gently.

  He takes me by my hips and lifts me as if I weigh nothing, tossing me on the bed. “On a scale from one to ten, how much do you love this dress?” He asks and fingers the hem of the skin tight black satin dress I wore for the affair.

  “If you are asking that because you want to tear it off of me, then a one.”

  He smiles this sexy smile that says, ‘I am gonna wreck you and this dress,’ before he tears the seam on the side, clear up to my hip. He then lifts my hips as he climbs on the end of the bed, pulling me down to him, spreading me open so a knee is on each side of his hips. He eyes the lace of my black thong as he strokes his fingers along his tattooed jaw, contemplating where he will start first.

  I reach as he allows me to unfasten his pants. He hooks his finger through the band of my panties and tugs, exposing the top of my mound. I reach through his boxers, tit for tat, and grasp his erection, swallowing hard once I am fully aware of his girth.

  “Run, Mya. Now’s your only chance.”

  I swallow and look him in the eyes forcing me to think before answering. “I’m not running from anything, Sully.”

  He nods, accepting it for what it is and clasps his hand around my wrist pulling my hand from his pants. “You can feel me up later, Pet.” He scoots back, hooking his fingers through my thong and pulls them down my legs. His free hand lifting my thigh to slip them off.

  He stuffs them in his pocket. Before I can ask why, he falls face down against my pussy. I feel his thumbs open the center of me. Every nerve is alive with passion. So good I can’t help but pull him closer into me. I have craved him like this for so long. Wanted his touch. Now, feeling him touch me has me
crawling out of my skin for more.

  “Savor, Pet. Enjoy the touch, never rush it,” he says. The vibration of his voice and his breath on my fevered flesh makes me moan. “It’s been so long, Pet.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant. I have never had this. I am a virgin and maybe I should tell him? Is it something he should know? Before I can explain it hasn’t been long, but in fact has never been done, I am silenced by his wet tongue pressing up against my clit.

  All thought turns to vapor as fireworks ignite inside me. I have masturbated. I’ve been content with it until now. Now, all I will ever want is Sam Sullivan touching me. “Spread wider for me, Pet. You want me? Show me. Let me in.”

  I do as he commands and open my legs as wide as I can. “So pretty and pink, and wet. Fuck, Mya. You are so fucking wet.”

  “Touch me,” I beg, arching when his fingers start circling the hole of me. I am desperate to feel him inside of me. I reach for the hand touching me and try to press it deeper. The feel of not one, but two fingers pushing into me, forces me to jerk. It wasn’t painful, but uncomfortable, foreign.

  I wanted more, deeper, but Sully tore back from me, off the bed until he was standing at the foot looking down at me. Gone was the seduction that had been in his gaze. It was now replaced with disbelief and astonishment… maybe even a little guilt.

  I sit up, my legs still spread, my desire still a fire through my body. “What’s the matter?” I ask, and roll to my knees as I crawl toward him on the bed.

  “Stop, Mya.”

  The tone in his voice is scolding and I cringe from it. “Uh, mind telling me why?” I fold my arms and sit back on my heels. I offer the same detached stare and speak in the same disappointed tone.

  “Are you a virgin?” He doesn’t hesitate to ask me. Somehow, he knows the answer, but asks out of kindness, or respect, or some shit.

  “Yeah. So?”

  He hears my response and groans before doing his pants up. He sits in the chair by the room’s window and puts his shoes on. “Not my thing, Pet. I gotta bail.”

  Did he just fucking say what I think he said?

  “You gotta bail?” I ask in disbelief. I know guys do this shit all the time, my girlfriends tell me the stories. Hell, my brother Cal and his friends, were known for being such dicks, but I highly doubt any of them had the balls to say it outright like nothing.

  Sully looks at me angrily and stands. “Yeah. I have got to get the fuck out of here and away from you. I want absolutely nothing to do with this shit, Mya. I fucking knew better than to even try with someone so young, but this type of shit isn’t cut out for me. Not in the cards, feel me?”

  “I am not a child. I am twenty-one. I can do everything legally that you can. If I can go to prison, vote, buy liquor… I can fuck.”

  “I am thirty-three and most days I feel older, Mya. You have no idea what’s aged me and changed me. I resent life most days and try to carve out little pieces of good. Devirginizing you in a hotel room after a few too many shots of Patron at a bar is not on my list of learning to live again.”

  I stand stunned at his reasoning. I may not know his life’s story, but I know enough about his past love life in Seattle. “Look, I know you are divorced. Everyone knows. Get over it.”

  One day I might regret my flippancy, but right now I was hurt and humiliated. I didn’t give a shit about his ex-drama.

  His eyes go dark shielding any emotion from escaping, and all I see is anger. “Get out.” His voice is low, but terrifying. Whatever I said or did to him was evident in that tone.

  “Excuse me?” I screech and climb from the bed, willing to stand toe-to-toe. I might not know, or understand his reasons, but I didn’t deserve to be tossed out. That was for damn sure.

  “Get. Out. Of. My. Room.” He says, each word sharp like a blade. “Clear enough?”

  I feel the tears as they burn my eyes, but I refuse to blink and give him the satisfaction of knowing he offended me. I straighten my spine and look at him. “I need pants first. I can survive this humiliation much easier if I don’t leave here looking like used up trash!” I let the venom of my tone resonate as I throw his overnight bag on the bed, and riffle through it until I find workout style pants with a drawstring waist, that I slip on.

  “I am sorry you feel that way considering absolutely nothing happened. I am sorry if I seem harsh or rude, but this show can’t happen,” he explains, as he motions between us and the bed.

  “Well, you keep on telling yourself nothing happened and then lick your fucking lips as a reminder of them on my pussy not two minutes ago. Asshole.” I grab my shoes and look in the mirror, defeated by the dress and that I look like a hot mess. I pull it over my head and let it drop to the floor as I grab the white ribbed tank top in his bag. I tie it in a knot beneath my breasts and decide it will do.

  I look to Sully who is watching me like I am the psychopath here. “Are you done raiding my wardrobe?”

  I give him a hateful smile. “Wearing wife beater tank tops and workout pants does not make a wardrobe there, bad ass. I was surprised to see something I could manage in that bag.”

  “Cool. Now, go,” he says, folding the bag closed and zipping it up.

  I look at him, seeing the actual truth that he does not care. “This isn’t an act is it? You are honestly this rude?”

  He looks up at the ceiling and lets out a sigh. If it was frustration or guilt, I don’t know. “I don’t want to be cold or cruel, but I need to in order for you to understand this shit ends here.” He looks at me defeated and sits at the end of the bed. “The truth is, I respect you, Mya. Hopefully, we can be friends one day. I had a blast chilling with you, but we need to remain platonic.”

  I balk at the idea and prepare to tell him to fuck off when he grabs my hand. “I am thirty-three with a sadness in me to rival what you think you know of worse case scenarios. I don’t wear my pain. I keep it hidden inside and carry-on.”

  “I’m not looking to get married tonight, Sully,” I say, and hope that he doesn’t see me as the young hopeful girl that hears wedding bells with the first kiss. I like him even when he is a dick like now. I like him, and worse, I respect him for his truth even though it sucks.

  He shakes his head no at my words. “The reason I won’t do this is because to me, it is just sex and will only ever be sex. I will not fall in love with you. I will never marry you or be in a relationship with you. You are twenty-one and deserve to be some lucky guys favorite color.”

  As he speaks, his voice is a sad and removed echo in the room.

  “Favorite color?” I ask. My chest tight from his words and the sadness in them.

  He smiles sadly and brushes my confusion off as if I could never understand. “Something I used to say to express love. It’s a big deal to be someone’s favorite color. Nothing can compare to that love. Understand?”

  “No. I have never been loved like that,” I say, now wanting nothing more than to be someone’s favorite color.

  He cups my cheek and smiles before kissing it sweetly, platonically. “I can guarantee you that you are your dads favorite color.”

  I try to brush off the sadness that hit me as he spoke with such sorrow and shrugged. “Maybe…” I tuck my hair behind my ears and take a deep breath, just wanting to get the hell away from him at this point.

  “Look, we can be friends. There’s a lot of tequila in the world and plenty of other guys to make bad choices with, right?”

  “Mya…”

  “It’s cool. I am gonna head to my room. I can return the clothes once I get dressed,” I say, and leave him alone in his room. My torn dress on the floor with my dignity.

  Chapter Two

  Blue on black,

  Tears on a river

  Push on a shove, don’t mean much

  Joker on Jack

  Match on a fire

  Cold on Ice

  A dead man’s touch

  Whisper on a scream, never changed a thing

  Doesn’t brin
g you back

  It’s like blue on black

  Three months later

  Sully

  The faint buzzing sound coming from Noah’s tattoo machine was a balm to the anxiety in my chest. Getting tattooed didn’t bother me. It was a second nature these days. The anxiety was from the words being tattooed on my pectoral muscle right over my heart, ‘You are my favorite color’.

  Noah is my best friend and partner though I run the shopmainly. Noah is multi-talented; tattooing for fourteen years and the bass guitarist for the band, TAT. You might have heard of him the band has four albums all making it to the platinum record status. He isn’t here too often like his best friend, Jenny Dorian, who manages the shop and doubles as our dermal artist.

  “What brought this on, my man?” He asks me about the new tattoo being placed under the photo of my one true love. Chad tattooed the photo of Kace a few years ago when I showed up, unannounced and uninvited, to pull Noah out of hell. I had been friends with Noah and his sister, Carrie, since we were kids. Our dads both worked on the force. I found out later in life, much later, that their dad was a sadistic evil pile of shit and when his secrets came out, it was my dad who lead the case.

  “Chad put her picture there when I showed up in Gig.” I look down at the most beautiful face I will ever see and feel the pain of her profound loss wash over me. “I feel like I need to accept it all. I want to get a stone for her here. Somewhere I can go to talk to her. I think it’s time.”

  Noah stopped the machine as he wiped the ink from my chest. He looks at me, both understanding and confused, an odd combination. “And if the day comes that she …” He doesn’t say it and I understand why.

  “If she comes home?” I ask, and rub my hands over my face, then dropping them to my lap. “She isn’t going to, Noah. I know that, the cops know that, even Deja knows it. I don’t want to say I give up, but I need there to be peace. For myself, but also for her. If she is dead, I need her to know there’s peace for her…”