Once the alcohol flowed, people would head outside and dance up on the deck if they chose to.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” I sighed, “just enjoying the last rays of sunlight before its picture time and I’m needed everywhere at once.”
“Is that your way of saying I’m a pain?” When I didn’t answer, Mom took my hand in hers and turned me to face her. Her eyes, so much like my own, were sad. “When did our relationship turn sour, Beau?”
“Not so much as sour, but I’m tired of the heavy load you constantly place on my shoulders.” Giving her a small smile, I squeezed her hand and turned to walk away. Now wasn’t the time or place to air out grievances. “I’ll be up in my room. Call me when they are ready for family pictures.”
“It was never my goal to alienate you, much less have you hate me.” Her words made me pause, the regret in her tone causing me to turn back and face her. “You, kid, are an amazing woman, and I am sorry if I don’t tell you enough. I’ve never had to worry about you. Not once.”
“Mom, we can talk later. Now—”
“Now is the time, Beau. I hate this ever-present wall between us. Hate that you think I don’t love you when I do…more than my own life.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and her lip trembled. “Your sister has always needed me, while you stood on your own two feet from an early age. And that’s no excuse on my behalf, not at all, but I want—need you to know that I am so proud of you. That I love you, and I hope one day we can get back to being close.”
“Love you too, Mom, and I miss you.”
“Please forgive me,” she begged, and I nodded. “I’m not perfect, pumpkin, and if I ever hurt you, please know that it was never intentional.”
“Thank you.”
“Never thank me for saying the words you should already know. That fault is on me.” Mom pulled me in for a quick hug, and then kissed both my cheeks. Dad called her name from the deck, and she waved at him with a smile. She walked back toward the house, leaving me a surprised and a bit of an emotional mess.
Gave me just enough time to get myself together before his scent hit me. Made me bite my lip to keep in a groan. The man always smelled of sex and the outdoors.
Like my favorite kind of sin.
“Everything okay, nymph?” Hendrix’s sudden entrance into my personal space meant that we were alone and his OCD supervising duties were done. “Shouldn’t you be inside with the bridal party?”
“Nope. I’m taking the night off.” Had become a private joke between us. This wedding had been brutal in the planning arena. Gloria wanted something gaudy and huge, while Ivan wanted mellow and fun.
Hendrix and I were the compromising super team that brought it together.
“That’s good to hear.” He pressed himself closer, his cock hard and tempting. “Because I miss my favorite girl. It’s been too long since we had some time alone.”
“Agreed. Need you,” I whimpered as his hands skimmed the edge of my strapless, knee-length chiffon dress. “Can we sneak away upstairs?”
“Fuck, I wish we could, baby. But there’s a problem that needs your attention…”
“What happened now?”
“This.” I felt him drop to the ground and worried something had happened to him. What greeted me when I turned left me speechless in the best of ways. There, was my gorgeous boyfriend in his white and black suit down on one knee in the sand.
In his hand he held a piece of paper that looked an awful lot like a contract.
“Read it.”
“Parker this is not the time to—”
“Please, Beau. Just read it.”
Taking the single page from his hand, I read the first line and gasped.
Sugar Agreement of Marriage…
“Hendrix, what…how…I?”
“Keep reading, Miss Carter.”
This contract hereby states that we say a big fuck you
to all the rules, and promise to live a happy life together.
That we will honor each other and remain faithful.
Support and cherish.
That I, your husband, will fire any secretary that gives you shit,
(As I did with Kaitlyn)
and pawn them off on Jax as payback for being annoying.
We will love past old age, and still get it on while living
in our nursing home down in Boca.
If you have me, Beau Carter, I will live the rest of my life making memories with you.
Marry me?
“Hurry up and put that ring on my finger,” I demanded while he chuckled.
Hendrix stood, and grabbed my hand, kissing each fingertip before presenting me with a beautiful ring. “So, I take it that’s a yes?”
“It’s a hell yes.”
“Fuck, I love you, Beau.” He kissed me then, slow and sweet. At the touch of his tongue—the seductive way he caressed my own, a feeling of pure bliss overtook me. His every touch was nourishment for my soul.
He was everything to me.
Catcalls from the deck interrupted our moment, and we pulled away. Not completely, but just slowed down into pecks between shared breaths and smiles.
“Time to go up, nymph. Dinner should be starting soon.” Another kiss, this time over the ring on my left hand. “We’ll play nice for now, but once they leave, you’re mine.”
“Promises, promises.”
“No, it’s a warning, Beau. I’m going to show you just how grateful I am that you accepted my proposal. Make you come on my cock repeatedly, until you cry out for mercy, and then, I’ll still ask you for one more.”
“You can’t say things like that and expect me to act as though nothing happened.”
“Want to add a spanking to the list? Behave, I’ll reward you later.”
“Fine.” I pouted, and then remembered that I had something important to share of my own. “Guess you should escort your babies toward the tent and feed them.”
“Have you eaten today? Baby, I know they like to run you…” he trailed off, eyes wide and lips moving without sound. Might’ve broken him.
“You okay there, stud? Looking kind of pale.”
“Babies?”
“Yeah.”
“Not as in: we’re being kinky fuckers and bringing another sugar into the mix?” That earned him a glare and slap to the back of the head.
“No, you jerk.”
“Babies?”
“Well, I am eating for two now.”
“Are you serious, or messing with me?”
“I hope it’s a girl so you’ll go grey before she’s even out,” I deadpanned a second before my feet left the ground. Poor child was doomed to deal with his over-the-top protectiveness from day one.
Hendrix squeezed me to his chest while kissing my lips hungrily, almost savage. Teeth, lips, and tongue; he devoured me for the second time within the span of minutes, leaving me a horny mess.
“Thank you,” he breathed out, a goofy smile on his face while his forehead rested over mine. I’d never seen the man so happy. Almost giddy. It was contagious, and I grinned just as wide. “We’re having a baby. Starting our family.”
“Yes.”
“A tiny human created by us.”
“Better be.”
“I’m fucked in the best of ways.”
“Pretty much,” I agreed and nipped his lip. “Now carry me to dinner. I’m starving.”
“And it starts,” he growled against my neck, causing me to giggle. We were by the tent when he stopped once more and looked me in the eyes. “Hope you know that I wouldn’t have it any other way, nymph. I love you.”
“Good thing I love you too then, Mr. Parker. Now, feed me.”
“Food, or...?”
The End.
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Summary:
Talan Cox wants to mark Maya—with more than his ink. The owner of a prominent tattoo shop, he’s used to being hit on by easy women. Though “easy” is not a word associated with Maya when she comes in to support her friend. Flirtation ensues, but what will it take to break the painted man.
By: Elena M. Reyes
Copyright © 2013 by Elena M. Reyes
Malfunction Erotica
(The House of Malfunction)
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by: R.E. Hargrave, K.I. Lynn, & N. Isabelle Blanco
Cover image licensed by: 123rf.com/ Piotr Stryjewski
Cover design by: N. Isabelle Blanco
1
I was tired.
My neck and back cracked when I stood up to lean over my client’s tatt and wipe it down. The girl in my chair, an obnoxious little blonde, hissed as the cloth swiped across her sensitive skin. My mark—my ink marred her flesh with a permanent stamp of my creation.
“All done.”
“It looks amazing, Talan.” She hopped out of the chair and stood before me. Her eyes ate up the tattoos over my arms, drinking in the sight of my art.
Or body.
This little girl didn’t give a shit about the cherry blossom tree she had me place over her ribs and down her hip. She was there to land, and then go brag about, the bad boy artist who she wished would mark more than her flesh.
“Glad you like.” I turned back to my gun and began to clean up the mess, not even looking at her. My dismissal didn’t make her happy and she pouted. “Now let’s go over the aftercare and you can be on your way.” It wasn’t that she was unattractive, quite the opposite. She had a tiny waist and ample chest, but it wasn’t enough to make me want her.
The looks she was giving me came off as desperate, and I wasn’t into easy pussy. Easy usually meant used and abused. Not my kind of deal.
“How about,” her finger ran down the length of my arm, following the Polynesian pattern that adorned my shoulder, “I buy you a drink, and you can take care of it for me in the morning?”
“How about,” I pulled her hand off my skin and walked over to my station where I picked up her aftercare guide, “you take care of this yourself.”
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to sneak out for a little while?” She batted her obviously fake lashes at me.
“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’m booked solid tonight and can’t get out of here.” My too charismatic personality couldn’t help but add, “Maybe some other time?” Bullshit—I had no intention of ever seeing her outside my chair.
“I can make it worth your while.”
Thank God someone knocked on my door. “Come in,” I yelled just as Simon, one of my artists, walked in.
Simon Palmer had come to work for me a year ago, after finishing his apprenticeship with a buddy of mine up in New York. The kid was young, but he was a natural. At only twenty-years-old, his portfolio could give some of the business veterans a run for their money.
He was an asset to the team, and right at that moment, my favorite person in the world.
“Yo, I’m heading out to pick up Lance; his bike broke down and he needs a lift from the mechanics shop.”
“What about his appointment at two?” I snapped my gloves off and huffed.
“Sorry, bro, but can you cover?” I barely stopped myself from shaking my head. Did I have a choice? Simon continued, oblivious to my growing annoyance at the idea of covering for Lance. “When we tried to re-schedule, she asked for you.”
“Fuck . . . okay. Who is it?”
Simon shrugged. “Don’t know, just some girl he had down for a dream catcher. The design’s already finalized and ready for transfer paper,” he explained. “So, can you, or do I call and tell her you aren’t available?”
“Actually,” my client interrupted our discussion, “we were just leaving—”
“Yeah, I’ll do it.” I sighed and turned toward my client, all while doing the touchdown shuffle on the inside. “Sorry, but duty calls.”
To say she was pissed would be an understatement, if the evil glare in her eyes was anything to go by. She snatched the papers out of my hand and marched out of my room without a backward glance.
“Did I ruin—”
“No, you just saved my ass.” I clapped his shoulder and smiled before pushing him toward the door. “Get going and pick that lazy fucker up. I’m sure he’s pissed over missing this tatt.”
“Actually . . .”
“What?” I huffed.
“He likes the chick, so he’s fuming.” Simon chuckled.
“No shit?” My eyes widened at the news.
“Yes shit,” he answered and left me laughing my ass off while he went to get Lance, my abstract artist.
“When’s my next appointment?” I asked my receptionist Janice while making my way around the front counter. I’d just walked out Lance’s crush and wanted the day to be over.
“You have one more, Talan. Esther is due in twenty.”
“Fuck, I forgot about her.” My body slumped against the counter. The boys and I were hoping for the evening to be slow, allowing us an early night.
“That’s why I’m here, handsome. To serve you in any way you need,” Janice purred, and I sighed as I flipped open my laptop and logged in. I’d made the mistake of wetting my dick in her a few months back when she first came through my door. Afterward, she became jealous and clingy, wanting more than I was willing to give.
The only reason she was still here was because she had bigger balls than the other two fuckers that worked here. Janice could handle the leers, gestures, and jokes like a pro, but fuck with her inventory or dirty my shop, and she will rip you a new one.
“Janice, cut that shit out,” I demanded before storming off toward the back and into my sanctuary. The guys all laughed when I walked by. I flipped them the bird and continued on into my room.
An hour had passed since I’d asked Janice if I was clear and there was still no sign of Esther. It was the usual for her. The woman would be late to her own funeral, but this level of tardiness was a new one for her.
She was never this late.
I was becoming agitated by the lack of common sense people had to pick up a goddamn phone. How hard could it be to let me know if you’re coming or not? There was just something about a person’s lack of punctuality that pissed me off. Not caring if I had shit to do or places to be was plain rude.
I was worked up to the point of walking out the damn door.
“Janice,” I called out into the now empty shop. She’d insisted – once the boy’s left – in staying behind to help me set up, not listening to my refusal. “Call Esther and reschedule. I’m beat and—”
“I’m here,” Esther yelled, rushing through the door. “Traffic was a bitch and I—”
“Save it and get in my chair before I kick you out,” I grumbled and rubbed my throbbing temples.
“But, I brought—”
“Now.”
“Is he always this rude?” a soft, feminine voice I didn’t recognize asked.
<
br /> I looked up, and was startled by the sexy little thing that stood before me. She was young. Much younger than what I was normally attracted to; at the most this little nymph was twenty.
The beauty had black hair; wavy and tousled locks that swept down to the middle of her back, with side-swept bangs across her forehead. Her face was sweet, innocent, while her gray eyes spoke of mischief, and in my case, trouble. Lips, those fucking cherry-red lips, were plump and inviting—the perfect Cupid’s bow that begged to be nibbled.
I let my eyes traverse her short frame and my mouth watered. She truly was an itty-bitty thing. With my six-foot-four frame, I towered over her, dwarfing her delicate one.
My feet carried me closer to where she stood, next to Esther in the reception area. I wanted her laid on that black marble top so I could feast on her. The drought I’d been on as of late might have been making me desperate...then again, looking at her was making something within me want to just take, consequences be damned.
We watched each other; she followed my every move and I, her every breath.
My eyes dropped from her perfect face to hungrily devour her chest and a shiver ran down my spine. The two pert, no bigger than a handful breasts, sat high on her chest. She wore a simple camisole that did little to hide her obvious happiness to meet me.
My cock twitched as her nips puckered.
I continued my assessment and found my hands clenching the second her narrow waist and flared hips came into view. My nails dug grooves into the palms of my hands, the slight pinch keeping me in check. The desire to pull her closer, grab onto her flesh, and leave my prints behind was almost unbearable.
She was a slim petite thing, with the sexiest pair of legs my eyes had ever seen; they were bare for my enjoyment. A tiny pair of denim shorts barely covered her lower region, marking every groove and molding onto her sinful flesh as if they were a part of her.
Craving Sugar Page 23
