Badd Business

by Jasinda Wilder

  He finally got himself crammed—painfully, it seemed, judging by the wincing—into his jeans, and then sauntered over to me. Bending over me, his eyes raked over my breasts and then my core, and then back to my eyes. “Because Juneau, sweetheart, when you drop to your knees and suck me off—or do anything else—I want it to be because you want to, not because I just gave you the best fucking orgasm of your life.” He grinned at me, a cocky smirk. “And darlin’? Don’t try to pretend it wasn’t the best. I watched you come so hard you couldn’t stand up.”

  I caressed his shoulder, his bicep. “I’m not pretending—it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I’ve never come that hard, ever.” I ran my fingers down his side. “And I do want to—touch you.”

  He backed away. “I know you do.” Bending to grab his shirt, he shrugged into it, sadly hiding all that delicious muscle. “There’s another reason why I’m stopping us right here.”

  I frowned at him. “Do share.”

  He paused with his hand on the knob. “I’m proving a point.”

  My frown deepened. “And what point would that be?”

  “That I can give without asking anything in return.” His eyes devoured my body, splayed out for his gaze—my breasts hung heavy, my knees sagged apart, showing my sex, which was damp and slick, the close-trimmed patch of dark fuzz beaded with my essence and his saliva. “That I’m not just chasing you to fuck you once or twice and then ghost. I want more than that, Juneau, and this is me making sure that point is crystal fucking clear.”

  And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

  Shit.

  This was not in any way, shape, or form how I saw this going.

  Angry, stunned, confused, turned on, relieved, disappointed, horny as hell…I was all this and more, a tangled jumble of thorny, spiking emotions.

  I dressed quickly, alternating between being horny, angry, and stunned. I shrugged into my tank top, snagged my thong and skirt…

  And then made a quick decision, an impulsive decision.

  I stepped into my skirt, zipped it, and then shoved my thong—which, after a sniff, I realized with some satisfaction, smelled of my ripe desire—into his underwear drawer. Before I closed the drawer, I took a moment to appreciate the sight of my dainty little thong bright pink against the dark grays, blacks, and blues of his underwear.

  I closed the drawer and stepped away just as he entered with my sweater in his hand.

  “There, all dry and warm.” He gestured at the window. “It stopped raining for the moment, so I’ll walk you home.”

  I stared up at him. “You don’t have to prove anything, Rem.”

  He smiled at me. “Yeah, I do. To you and myself.” He shrugged. “I ain’t ever really been accused of being a selfless person. Gotta start somewhere, I guess, right?”

  “I suppose. But I didn’t come here expecting you to be selfless or chivalrous or anything.”

  “What did you come here expecting?” he asked, ushering me out of his room and then into the hallway outside the apartment, heading for the stairs.

  I shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure.” I blushed. “Sex, I suppose.”

  “Be honest—you expected me to take what I wanted—a quick, hard fuck, probably—and then for me to kick you out and never call you again.”

  I ducked my head and focused on trotting down the stairs next to him. “Honestly—yeah, something like that did occur to me.”

  We hit the sidewalk, and it was cold and damp but not raining, although the scent of petrichor in the air told me it would again, and soon.

  Remington did something else totally unexpected then: he took my hand, our fingers twined together, and walked with me in companionable silence all the way back to my apartment.

  When we reached the bottom step to my building, he stayed on the bottom step while I ascended to pause at the top, my key in the lock of the building door.

  That’s when he finally answered me. “If that’s what you were expecting, Juneau, then that’s why I’m doing this.” He grinned at me, his signature cocky smirk. “To make sure you understand how much you’ve been underestimating me.”

  I let out a breath, yanking open the door and withdrawing my keys; I stood in the doorway, looking down at him. “Point taken, Rem.”

  His grin softened. “I like you calling me that.” Then the cocky grin was back as he waved and turned away. “So, I’ll see you soon?”

  I put my fingers over my mouth, and smelled myself on my them—the scent aroused me, made me flush, and I dropped my hands and knotted them hurriedly behind my back.

  “Yes, Rem,” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear me. “You will.”

  Then he was gone, and I watched as he disappeared down the street and out of sight.

  Holy shit.

  That did not go as expected.

  11

  Remington

  I sat reclined in the black leather chair, my feet propped up on the footrest. I was twisted watching Ink carefully drag the tattoo gun across the skin of the outside of my left bicep. The design was one I’d been toying with for some time, but until moving to Alaska all the pieces hadn’t quite fallen into place. And now, finally, it was happening.

  The tattoo Ink was doing depicted a pair of crossed fire axes with an oxygen mask and helmet in the space above the crossed ax’

  heads—to the left was the outline of Oklahoma, my home state, to the right was the outline of California, where I’d lived the majority of my adult life, and beneath was the outline of Alaska, where I intended to spend the rest of my days.

  Ink didn’t say much while working, which suited me fine. He finished the outline and then sat back, shutting off the gun. “Break time.”

  I nodded, rolling my shoulder. “Sounds good.” I glanced down at what he had done so far. “Dude, you are an amazing artist.”

  He stripped off the black rubber gloves as he headed across the parlor to the kitchen area. “Thanks.” He opened a mini-fridge hidden under the counter and grabbed two bottles of local beer. “Now that I’m not in the middle of inking you, I gotta ask: what’s up with you and my cousin?”

  I accepted a beer from him and cracked it open. “Um…I’m not really sure, to be honest.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Better be sure with that one, bro. She don’t waste her time, and she don’t play games.” His eyes were fixed on mine, and I saw no humor or friendliness there. “And if you break her heart, I’ll break your pretty face, and don’t think all those abs of yours’ll save your ass if I light into you.”

  I held up both hands. “Hey, man—I have no intention of breaking her heart, okay? I honestly don’t know how things are going to play out—it’s just that I’m into her. I really like her. That’s all I know, okay?”

  He nodded, and we finished our beers in silence, and then he clapped his huge hands together. “Let’s get back to it. Another hour or two and you’re done.”

  It ended up being more like two and a half hours, but when he was done, it looked incredible, and I was giddy with excitement. He went through the usual aftercare spiel, wrapped it, and then stripped off his gloves, washed his hands, and went to write out the bill—which I knew would be steep, but for the quality of the art he’d put on me, I’d gladly pay it and a bit extra besides.

  I was counting my cash when the bell over the door jangled; Ink and I both looked up at the same time.

  Juneau stood just inside the door, eyeing me like a mouse would eye a hungry tomcat before making a break across the kitchen floor.

  I laughed at her. “Don’t worry, Juneau. I won’t bite.”

  She rolled her eyes at me and huffed. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  It had been a little less than a week since I’d walked away from her apartment building—sporting the most painfully massive erection of my life. I still had blue balls from that whole situation, but I was confident I’d played it right.

  “Avoiding me, are you?” I aske
d, carefully slipping my T-shirt on.

  She came over and lifted the sleeve of my T-shirt and part of the dressing to examine my new tattoo with a critical eye. She glanced up at me. “This is cool.” She looked at her cousin. “You did a great job, Ink.”

  Ink just grinned. “I always do a great job.” He waved the invoice he’d finished writing out. “That’s why I can charge this kinda price.”

  I took the invoice, glanced at it, and then clutched my heart, faking a pained gasp and staggering backward. “Good lord, that’s a lot of money!” I straightened, handing him the stack of cash—which totaled the amount he’d charged me plus an extra fifty. “Kidding. Worth every penny, my friend.”

  Ink took the cash, counted it, and held up the stack to me in gesture. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” He glanced at Juneau. “So. What brings you here, cuz?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I can’t just want to come see you?”

  He snorted. “It’s only been a week since the last time. You never come to see me this frequently.”

  She sighed. “I told you I’d start coming more often, didn’t I?” She was wearing a thigh-length raincoat to protect against the heavy rainfall we were getting; she unzipped it, throwing back the hood, and slipped out of it.

  I did my best to stifle the growl of appreciative arousal I felt boiling in my throat at the sight of her: she was wearing a pink skirt that hugged her ass like a glove before loosening to swirl around her ankles; her top was a gauzy, filmy white short-sleeve blouse thing with a plunging neckline that revealed her tattoos and clung to her breasts. The outfit was sexy but still classy, and the band of tattoos decorating her chest was on full display.

  Ink’s eyes widened. “You wore that to work?” He sounded legitimately flabbergasted.

  Juneau nodded, then shrugged. “I guess I figured it was time to stop hiding so much of myself.”

  Ink frowned. “I’ve been telling you that for years, June-bug.” He tucked the cash into the register and then glanced back at her. “What changed?”

  Her eyes went to me, and then back to Ink. “I guess when Rem saw me, it prompted me to show my tattoos to Izzy, and then Kitty. And they both were kind of baffled as to why I’d ever hidden them in the first place.”

  Ink snorted. “Well, no shit. It’s 2018—who hides tattoos anymore, unless your job requires it? And I know for a fact Daniel Ulujuk doesn’t give a rat’s ass.”

  He knew that because Daniel had a small tattoo on his left wrist, done by Ink.

  “I just…” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Ink’s eyes were fixed hard on his cousin. “June-bug, we both know you never hid your tattoos because of work, or your friends—none of that. It’s always been about your mom.” He lifted an eyebrow at her. “She see ’em yet?”

  Juneau shook her head, the end of her braid swaying. “No.”

  “She going to?”

  Juneau shrugged, looking miserable. “Maybe someday?”

  “Sooner than later is better.” Ink waved a hand. “You know how I feel, no point getting into it again.”

  “I say you just show her. What do you have to lose?” I asked.

  “Everything!” Juneau snapped, sinking into the chair I’d vacated. “Them! My family. Their respect, their love.”

  I wrinkled my brow in confusion. “Over tattoos?”

  “Over what the tattoos mean, Remington. You wouldn’t get it.” She toyed with a jar of ink.

  I growled. “We talked about this—you keep underestimating me.”

  She sighed. “Me having all these tattoos means I’ve never let go of art. They told me years ago to give it up—to focus on law, on my career, and then on finding a husband and having a family. Those should be my only priorities, according to my parents. My tattoos are a symbol of my rebellion against all that, even though they’re not visible to anyone. I’ve toed the line and gone almost a hundred grand in debt chasing a degree and spending years of my life pursuing a career I never wanted.”

  “See, I do get that,” I said. “You’ve met my brothers: Roman and Ramsey are not the kind of guys who appreciate art. They look at Van Gogh and see messy swirls of paint—I see a masterpiece. They have tattoos, sure, but more because they’re cool to have, and serve as reminders of certain events. They don’t really see them for the art—at least not the way I do. And I’m not sure they would understand me wanting to be a tattoo artist.”

  Juneau’s eyes widened. “You want to be a tattoo artist?”

  I nodded. “I have for years. It’s always just been this thing I dicked around with as a hobby—I did a few on my buddy who did the piece on my shoulder, and a few for some of the other guys in the unit, but I never really considered it a viable way forward until recently.” I hesitated. “I’ve wanted to get into tattooing for years, but I’m worried my brothers won’t understand if I tell them I’m gonna quit working at the saloon—and sooner than they think—to work on my art. And maybe even have a place like this one day,” I said, gesturing around. “They’d shit bricks.”

  Juneau made a face. “I get the impression you three support each other no matter what.”

  “Yeah, of course. But that doesn’t mean we always agree with or like each other’s choices, though.” I let out a sigh of exasperation. “See, I thought from the very start that this whole bar in Alaska thing was a bone-headed mistake, and that it was doomed to fail. I just didn’t have any better ideas as to what the fuck the three of us were going to do after we quit smokejumping, so I went along with it.”

  “Yet here you are, close to opening your new bar.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, and truth be told, I actually hate it. And so does Ram. But we can’t quit on Rome now—he needs us. Maybe when things are up and running Ram and I can start figuring what we want to do, and how to go about getting it.”

  Ink waved a hand. “Hey, I’m still here, you know.”

  Juneau glanced at him, and then dropped her eyes. “I know, sorry, Ink. I…um…”

  Ink frowned, leaning back against the cash register, twirling a pen between two fingers. “Spit it out, cuz. What’s on your mind?”

  “I want to work here with you,” she blurted, getting up from the chair. “Like, professionally.”

  Ink dropped the pen. “Say what?”

  She grinned. “You heard me.” Her grin faltered a little. “Quietly, on the side, to start with.”

  “Still scared of your mom, huh?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not ready to tackle that yet. I just want to try this and see if I’m any good.”

  Ink bobbled his head side to side. “That’s tricky, June-bug. There’s requirements you gotta meet in order for me to let you do clients. I let you do tattoos on me because you’re my cousin and we’re doing it for fun—and because I trained you, so I know you know what you’re doing. But for me to let you take on paying clients? You gotta go through an official apprenticeship program, and we gotta log the hours, and you gotta have a certified CPR and blood-borne pathogens card…there’s some other shit, but that’s the gist of it. I can’t skirt those rules just cause you’re my cuz, cuz.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’m not in a hurry to get licensed, I just…I want to do it.”

  He was quiet a long moment. “If you’re sure you want to, I’ll get some things together to start the application, and we’ll get you in the apprenticeship program. I’ll open up my hours here so you can start taking appointments.” He eyed her steadily. “This is a big step, June-bug. Your mom is gonna find out, you gotta know that. Best you tell her yourself rather than her finding out from someone else that you’re doing tattoos. Especially because she’ll come after me, and I do not want to face a P-O’d Aunt Judy. Nuh-uh, cuz. You better handle that shit so it don’t blow back on me, yeah?”

  She sighed. “I’ll handle it.”

  Ink nodded. “Good.” He glanced at her again. “You want a tat? Or did you just come here to tell me your news?”

  She shrugged. “I came to te
ll you that. I’ve got a few ideas I’m working on for new pieces, but they still need some fine-tuning before they’re ready.” She paused. “Plus, the ideas I have are all for places I can’t cover up, and I need time to work up the courage for that.”

  Ink grinned. “Well, you know I’ll be ready when you are.”

  She walked over to him and wrapped him up in a hug, her arms barely reaching halfway around his enormous torso. She rested her head on his chest briefly. “Love you, Ink.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Love you more, June-bug.”

  “Okay, I’m gonna go now,” Juneau said.

  Ink waved. “See ya. Come back in a couple days and I’ll have some paperwork for you to fill out to start the official apprenticeship.”

  I felt my heart skip a beat as she glanced at me and then headed for the door. That glance—that look in her eyes…was it an invitation?

  I jumped for the door. “Juneau—you want a ride somewhere?”

  She let out a long breath, gazing at me steadily, her expression inscrutable, and then she nodded, smiling. “Yeah, sure.”

  Ink watched us both very carefully. “Remember what I said, bro.”

  I met his stare. “I got you.”

  “Good. Don’t forget it.”

  I held the door for Juneau and then followed her out as she shrugged into her raincoat, tugging the hood up against the cold drizzle. I indicated my truck, which was parked across the street and down a ways, and she accompanied me over to it. I went with her to the passenger side and reached over to open the door for her; she glanced at me in surprise.

  I just laughed. “What? Shocked that I can be a gentleman?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, kinda.”

  I shrugged and nodded, still chuckling. “Ehhh…fair enough, I guess. But I can be, when I want to be.”

  She waited until I got in and started the engine before responding. “So it’s a choice, then? When you’re a rude, arrogant, selfish prick, you’re just choosing to be that way?”

  “Ouch,” I said, clapping a hand over my heart. “Rude, arrogant, selfish prick? That stings, boo.”