Bare Skin: A Billionaire Romance

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Bare Skin: A Billionaire Romance Page 8

by Leah Holt


  Paint, I need to paint.

  Clear my head, get this shit that was clouding my mind out and far away. Because if I didn't...

  Then I might end up back at his shop, begging him to take me, begging him to take anything he wanted from me.

  Because he had warped my mind into a drowning tidal wave, crashing against my skull with his face, his body, his ink.

  His dangerous, sexy ink.

  I tried so hard to keep him out of my thoughts, out of my dreams, out of everything. Damn me for not having the strength to tell Beth no. If I had just stuck to my guns, listened to my gut, none of that would have happened.

  But now... Now I'm delirious with lust, consumed with a raw need to have him, all of him. Yes, I wanted to know how huge he was, yes I wanted to feel him bury his girth deep inside my core.

  Was it my fault for these feelings?

  My fault for leading him on into thinking he could have his way with me?

  Beth had taunted me for years with stories, her explicit tails of hot sex and full bodied orgasms that she felt down to her toes. Stories of her success, stories of everything she had and I wanted.

  It had to stop, it all had to end. I didn't want to live life through her, I didn't want to live my naughty dreams through her words.

  I wanted stories of my own, I needed stories of my own.

  I'm not going to be jealous of Beth anymore, I'm not going to wallow in self pity of what she has and I don't.

  All of those feelings, all of those emotions only made me feel awful, like I was a horrible person.

  And a horrible friend.

  I was happy for her, I really was. I guess a part of me just wanted her to feel the same joy for me, the same happiness I felt watching her succeed.

  Deep down, I knew she rooted for me, knew she wanted my art to take off. I knew she wanted me to find love and happiness, but not with him.

  Kash wasn't that type of guy. I fed his need, I gave him the wrong impression.

  But now, it was all in my own hands.

  Maybe it wasn't jealousy that coated my insides, maybe it was fear.

  Fear of failing.

  Fear of losing a good friend because of who I was. It was so much easier to hold onto negative thoughts, and keep harsh feelings close when you've spent your entire childhood wondering 'why?'

  Why people seemed to leave so easily, why the ones who are supposed to love you never come back.

  None of that was Beth's fault, she had been the only one to stand by my side. Her and my grandmother were the only two to really be there for me.

  But even that wasn't enough to burst through the shield I had molded around my heart. I was broken, lost, forever pained by a world that was torn from my grasp. A life that every child deserved, that every human being needed.

  To be loved, unconditionally by the person who brought you into the world.

  How could I ever let anyone else in, when I wasn't even good enough to keep my mother in my life?

  And I knew, Kash wasn't a person who stayed. He was too smooth, too good at twisting my head around him. He was a man who had experience, he knew how to work women. I could see it. But I also craved him, craved his hands, his touch.

  His affection, his attention, it made me feel like I had won something Beth wanted. That for once in my life, it was me, and not her.

  But that was wrong.

  What type of friend am I?

  I had harbored a negative view of my best friend because I was envious of what she had, and how everything she wanted just seemed to find its way to her. She never seemed to struggle, always having the world right at her fingertips.

  Modeling, a career, money, men. Her life came easy, while mine was filled with struggle and sadness.

  Jealousy made it easier to let go of Beth if she ever walked out on me too. It was my defense, the only way I knew how to deal with loss. Hold onto the bad, so you can forget the good.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shook the idea out of my head. You're not a bad person. It's normal after what you've been through.

  Shit, I'm annoying myself!

  When did I become a whiny, self centered, hollow shell?

  This needs to end, now.

  I'm not that person, there was no room anymore for pain. It was time for me to free myself from everything...

  Especially from my own demise.

  How was I supposed to get everything I wanted, when I couldn't even stand myself?

  A rush of tingles soared over my body, I was ready. I was leaving the old Willow behind and moving ahead with the person I wanted to be.

  No one else could change me. No amount of time spent with my best friend could give me the strength to be someone else, to be more than who I was.

  Only I could do that. If I wanted a different life, that had to come from inside. If I wanted a new outlook on the world, I had to find it myself.

  If I wanted to succeed, no one else could do that for me.

  And I knew then exactly how to sweep away the old me, and color the person I wanted to be.

  Paint it all away.

  Grabbing the cool handle of Colored Crafts, I yanked the door open. New feelings meant new work, which meant time for new paints.

  Coasting down the aisles, I held the small basket in my elbow, filling it with tubes that matched every color my body was feeling.

  Dark green to wash away the jealousy, aqua to heal, black for new found power, and most important... Red, red symbolized strength, determination, desire. Everything I wanted in my life, everything I wanted to have and be.

  And they kept piling up, the basket was half full in a matter of minutes. It was always so easy for me to just get lost in a place like that, and it was a downfall to my bank account. But always worth it.

  The quiet tap of my feet against the tiles was calming and serene. It was strange how just a small insignificant shop to others, could make all the difference in my mood.

  I had crawled into my nest, wrapped myself in the surrounding arms of canvases, paints, charcoals. All the things that for so long brought me back to earth, and fed my soul.

  A whisper floated through the air, followed by another, then another. The voices coalesced into a whirring fan blade, chopping the silence into bits.

  Twisting over my shoulder, three men were standing against the register, eyes trained on me.

  Smiling awkwardly, I drifted back to the shelves. But the voices continued, increasing in sound.

  What the hell are you assholes looking at?

  If I had the balls to say that out loud, I would've. But I didn't, I just slipped back into the paints and my new found strength to finally do something about who I was, and who I was about to become.

  The loud patter of hard soled shoes echoed around me, a deep baritone voice crept into my thoughts. It invaded my brain, slicing the proudest moment of my life; when I finally decided to morph myself into the woman I knew I was deep inside.

  “Hello, Miss, can I help you find anything?”

  “No, I'm making out just fine. Thank you.” Veering my stare over his shoulder, the two other men watched us like hungry hawks. Their eyes shifted, mouths watery and eager in a way that made me recoil.

  I couldn't explain exactly what caused my nerves to spark, heightening everything around me in a moment of self awareness.

  It was one of those times that hits you, like when you're walking alone in a dark alley. It was as if the air around me turned into a megaphone. I could hear the slurp of their tongues against their lips, I could see their pulse increasing slowly through the engorged veins in their necks.

  And I could see the light around me fading into darkness, I could hear my heart beat inside my chest, pounding with the adrenaline of fear.

  “We, uh, we don't get many people in here. Especially women with your beauty.” His rich eyes caressed my body, teeth drawing in his lower lip.

  “Okay...” The words drew out, discomfort layering my tone. “Thank you, I guess.”
r />   God, why am I so uncomfortable? Can't I just accept the compliment and move on?

  Kash was right, I really don't know how to.

  “You know, those paints are good for more then just paper.” His eyes greedily fell over my body, as he said, “They would look lovely on your bare skin, and I'd be more than happy to apply them for you.” Bridging the gap, his thick musk filled the air around me.

  And this time, the compliment was more than unwelcome. It was strange, disgusting, and made my body crawl.

  “No, I don't think so. I'm all set, and I think I'm done here. I'm just going to check out and leave.” I tried to move past him, stepping to his right. But the creepy man with peppered hair stepped with me, blocking the opening.

  “You don't have to leave just yet, we were just getting to know each other.”

  Fuck off! Get away from me!

  I wanted to yell in his face, kick him in the groin, and drop him to his knees. Instead I cocked my head, nostrils flaring out, and turned to walk the other way.

  His hand flew up, short grunts hit the air behind his back. Shifting to look at the other two men, they were smirking, laughing under their breath.

  Then one of the guys did something that brought the disgust riding my gut to the back of my throat. He walked over to the front door and locked it, sealing me inside.

  “I... I'm all set with these.” Dropping the basket to the floor, I tried to step back, but a huge metal shelf boxed me in.

  I was trapped, a fresh cut of meat tossed into a cage to feed the hungry lions.

  The older man lifted a hand to my cheek, dragging his fingertips down my jaw line. “There's only three of us, this won't take long.”

  My body trembled, stomach ready to expel everything inside.

  “You're not going to touch me.” My fear began to transition to anger. Blood started to heat my body, a raw fire growing inside my bones. “Now get the fuck out of my way.”

  “Sassy, I like that.” Thick fingers gripped my thigh, squeezing down hard.

  The swollen flesh twinged, a sharp pain shot up my leg. Wincing to his touch, his eyes drifted to my leg, widening and changing in one flash.

  The black pits grew to shocked quartz, hardening like stone under his lids. Jumping back, his legs followed seconds later. “Oh... I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

  What the hell is this guy on? Crack?

  Why did his demeanor change so swiftly, why had he just been raping me with his eyes, only to throw himself off?

  “Move.” I spat, lunging around his large frame.

  “Open the door, Elis.”

  The man named Elis whipped his head towards the door. “What? Not yet, none of us had a turn with her. Why wou—” His eyes danced to my leg, growing to the size of the moon.

  In one wicked twist, he had the door unlocked and open. Freedom was mere feet from my grasp.

  And they stopped. Just like that, trying to erase what they had just attempted to do.

  Picking up the fallen basket of paints, the peppered haired man dumped the contents into a small bag. “Here, these are yours. No charge, just please go and forget this happened.”

  Was I supposed to just walk out and forget all this? Did they really expect me to just pretend they weren't planning on raping me?

  “Are you fucking kidding me? I'm calling the cops! You can't threaten to violate me and then think free stuff will erase that!” I was red, rage had tinted my face, fury had blackened my eyes.

  “Please, just go. Take anything you want, anything at all. We don't want any problems.”

  “Problems? Problems?” I growled through gritted teeth, fingers coiling into my palm. There was no way in hell I was going to let these men get away with what they wanted to do. If they could do it me, then they could do it to anyone.

  I was certain this wasn't the first time. Sick assholes.

  “Miss, I'm really sorry. I had no idea who you were. I don't want any trouble, just please take the bag and accept my apology. I'm begging you.” His face was soft, drenching in beads of nervous sweat, and deep lines.

  Huffing under my breath, I threw the bag at him. “I don't want your shit.” Storming out the door, I stood on the sidewalk.

  Ripping the phone from my purse, I dialed the police. The ringing seemed to last forever before a voice finally crackled through the speaker.

  After speaking with an officer, the sirens didn't take long to sound off in the distance.

  It didn't matter to me how much that guy tried to beg for forgiveness. I wasn't going to be bribed to forget what they tried to do.

  Maybe the Willow I was before would have shied away, hunched over, and scrambled out the door just to get to freedom.

  But that wasn't who I was. Not any more.

  Fear would no longer force me into submission.

  Fear would no longer hold every breath my lungs took in.

  Fear could go fuck itself.

  Chapter Ten

  Kash

  To some this city was big, it was a fresh start, it's a story in the book of their lives. But to me, this city was mine, just like the only woman I cemented my touch onto.

  The woman who let me caress her tender bloom, sample the heat I would claim with my cock.

  Of all the tattoos I'd given, hers was the only one that mattered to me.

  Willow's gift wasn't just for her, it was for me too. I wasn't sure if she noticed yet, if she saw my signature carved in the bark. But it was there, holding my place on her body.

  I've tried to look for Willow, searching the crowds for her face, trying to hunt down the beauty wearing my mark. But she'd escaped my eyes.

  She had come back, only to be swept from my hands.

  All I could hope for now was that my signature was making things easier for her, that respect was being cast her way out of the graciousness people had for me.

  A snap of my fingers, and I had the power to find out every damn thing about her life, right down to the time she was born. I knew if I wanted to, I could learn all her secrets, her past, her passions.

  Except I didn't want to hear it from someone else, or read it in a file sent my way. I wanted to hear it from her, let her lips answer all the questions I had.

  They were her stories, and no one else should share them but her.

  The thrill of the chase, the mystery of when and where I'd run into her, that's what fed my adrenaline.

  Because I would see her again, that I knew.

  I couldn't explain why, why I felt this urge to learn about her. It was just there, and it all came from one chance meeting. One night, one tattoo, one dip into her inner warmth.

  And I was hooked.

  Her face had turned into my nightly dream, her body had become the material I jerked off to. And she made that easy, my cock came to life with one thought of her, with one picture in my head of her flesh.

  The idea of her excited and angered me all in the same captured breath. I'd never wanted one woman so badly.

  For years no one claimed my most personal space, the one place that was unreachable and only for me; my mind.

  But she was, every minute for the past seven days she floated through my skull on a movie screen I couldn't shut off.

  Feeling her pussy that night, it was a taste of what's to come. Her curves ate away at my insides, heating my core. The scent of her pussy was so close to my nose I could smell her dulcet musk, and the taste of her sweet juice was just inches from my tongue.

  If her friend hadn't been there, had she been alone... I would've slipped the tip of my tongue under her panties, quench my ungodly need to have her.

  Instead I had to savor what flavor was left on my fingers. And let me just say, she was delicious.

  My brain had been consumed with images of her lips, coiling softly around my cock, tongue slurping down my shaft. Every fucking piece of her made me hard, every damn inch of her skin looked velvet smooth.

  I needed Willow, I had to have her. There was no denying the fac
t my dick was going to make her scream.

  I was planning on sending her voice into a tone she never knew existed. A high pitched coo would spill from her lips and hit my ears, my cock would throb to the edge of insanity.

  And when I finally thrust deep inside her, when her pussy sheaths my shaft, it would be explosive.

  She was already mine. She just didn't know it yet.

  With my name on her thigh, no other man would dare lay a hand on that girl. Not now, not ever. Especially if they knew what was good for them.

  My mark, my woman.

  End of story.

  I'm Kash Slade, and these hands were made for two things: Tattoos, and women. Her flesh was my canvas, her body my masterpiece. The ink I gave her ran further than skin deep.

  It claimed her body.

  Now, I'm claiming her heart.

  Willow was going to be mine. She didn't have a choice, I wasn't giving her one.

  Glancing at the clock, I had a meeting to be at in thirty minutes. While tattoos were my calling, I had my fingers dipped in several other pockets.

  You don't go from nothing to billions without branching out, taking risks, and reaping the rewards.

  Body art gave me the purge to do what I loved, but I realized early on that I had a gift for business. For some reason my brain was able to see the rise or fall of another.

  If I felt the rise, I'd take the chance.

  If I didn't, I'd walk out voiceless. No explanation as to why, I didn't need to give one.

  I didn't owe anyone else anything.

  They owed me, especially if I felt they wasted my time.

  Yanking the cuff down on my wrist, I pinned the edge shut, covering my skin. The black coat morphed my body into the man I played by day. The man with money, the man with power.

  And I loved my power.

  With power came respect.

  With power came everything I wanted.

  With power, I will have Willow.

  Pressing the dark sunglasses over the bridge of my nose, I flattened the collar, and headed out the door.

  Was I still myself inside the jacket, still myself as I sat across the table listening to others poor their life blood into emotion filled words that felt dead to me?

  Everyone had a story, everyone had a past.

 

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