Hey Betty, this is Rayden. Just wanted to let you know the address for tomorrow.
Betty’s stomach flipped. Boss. She typed a response.
Thanks, Rayden. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.
Bring your book tomorrow. I’d love to show your designs.
Betty let out a whoop of happiness.
Really?
Yes. As long as you don’t take an hour to answer me. I was starting to get worried.
She texted back quickly, without giving it too much thought. An angel emoji and another one sticking out its tongue.
Yes, Daddy.
“Fuck. What am I doing? You shouldn’t be flirting, Betty.”
Do you worry about all your employees like this? She wrote, hoping to soften the previous message.
I do. But more if they’ve been sitting in a chair for over two hours and could have their blood sugar levels drop abruptly.
“Shit. Could I bungle this up anymore?”
Lesson learned. Thank you.
Rayden texted back a smiley emoji. She was about to set her phone down when it chimed again.
And don’t call me Daddy again, unless you want me to pull you over my knee and spank you.
Betty gasped. Her body woke up with a ravaging hunger. The image of herself over Rayden’s knees, barely containing her balance as he slapped his palm to her ass had her pussy leaking. She swallowed a moan. What was she supposed to answer to that?
“Be professional.”
No Sir and no Daddy. I’ll try my best. Though considering how bossy you are, it might be difficult.
She gaped at her message. Was her pussy doing the writing for her?
Don’t tempt me, baby doll
How can I not? Besides, it’s not very fair for you to call me baby doll, is it?
There. She’d just thrown the ball in his court. Betty waited for a reply, but none came through. Had she scared him away? Her microwave rang, and she set her phone down. She’d come on too strong, teasing him when she really shouldn’t have.
“He’s probably realized he’s your boss and decided to cut this out before it got out of hand, which is what you should have done.”
Grabbing a glass of water, she glanced at her phone’s screen. Nothing.
“We haven’t even signed a contract, so technically, he’s not my boss, yet, right?”
Yeah, but did she want to ruin everything with some hot sex? Working with Rayden was her dream. It’d help her aid other women and men in need, who wanted to cover up past hurts. They were both eager to play, and one of them had to put the stops to it. She was the one interested in learning and becoming a tattoo artist, whilst he had nothing to lose, did he?
I’m sorry. I’m overstepping boundaries. It won’t happen again.
Sir. She was dying to type Sir. But she hit send instead and switched off her device. There. Temptation gone. She had better eat and, she hoped, get some rest. Tomorrow was bound to be a long day.
Chapter Six
Rayden had hardly slept. He’d spent all night tossing and turning, reexamining Betty’s text message and cursing his phone for running out of battery when it did. Overstepping boundaries? He was the one who’d initiated it. She’d innocently called him Daddy, and then he’d had to go and mention spanking. She could have just ignored him, told him to fuck off, or something, but instead she’d followed his lead. By the time his phone had charged enough to revive, she’d already apologized for giving into their playful chemistry. To say he was disappointed was an understatement.
He wanted her.
Badly enough, he’d slept like shit, jacked off to her twice in one night and considered texting her in the morning. As if they had a relationship. As if they’d slept together. As if, they were something more than two people who happened to work together. She was his trainee, for God’s sake. You didn’t fuck your intern, did you?
Could you?
Rayden rubbed his face. What the hell was he going to do? This uncertainty was unlike him, and it grated on his nerves. He was usually calm and collected. A man capable of separating his emotions from everything else. Except, it seemed, with Betty.
The brunette touched a raw nerve in him and brought every cell in his body into an amalgam of hormonal madness. He had to find a solution, and he had to do it pronto, before he became a blubbering mess unable to keep it in his pants.
Grabbing the last of the equipment they’d need for the afternoon’s session, he hurried to his car. His phone beeped and he balanced the bag he was carrying to check it. It was another message from Vivienne threatening to cut off his balls if he didn’t hurry up.
COMING.
Placing everything in the back seat, he climbed aboard his vehicle and revved up the engine of the old Camaro. His phone rang again, and he glanced at the device. His heart skipped a beat.
I can’t make it. My car won’t start.
He stared at Betty’s message, worrying his bottom lip. This was the out he needed. He could tell her not to worry and go to the festival without her. Come Monday, he could explain that if he couldn’t rely on her, she couldn’t be his trainee. It was the perfect excuse to fire her and then ask for a date. Rayden groaned and threw back his head.
“That’s the shittiest thing you could do to anyone.”
Besides, he was pretty sure she would refuse dating him if he had just been the asshole who’d destroyed her dream to become a cover-up tattoo artist. Not to mention, he’d never forgive himself either. He would have let her down twice in her life.
Rayden checked the time on the dashboard. It was past midday. He was already late, and it would take him another two hours to arrive to the location. He pursed his lips.
He might not be able to fuck Betty, but he had offered to mentor her, and he sure as hell was going to do it.
Rayden: What’s your address? I’ll pick you up.
Betty: Aren’t you there?
Rayden: No. I overslept. Send me your location.
Betty: You don’t need to do that, Rayden.
Rayden: I want to do it. Address.
He waited, breath bated, for her to refuse again. If she did, he would call her and force her to give it to him, but seconds later, he got her position.
You’re not too far away. See you in 20.
After texting Vivienne to apologize profusely and tell her he’d arrive even later than expected, he hit the road. Nineteen minutes later, he was driving into an almost empty parking lot. Betty was leaning against a battered red sports car, dressed in dark slacks and a simple white shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail, and she sported red-rimmed cat-shaped sunglasses. Her welcoming smile undid him. Warmth flooded his senses, a shifting feeling clenching his chest. He slowed down and parked next to her.
“Hey,” he said, getting out of the car.
Betty approached him, gesticulating wildly and speaking fast about how she had planned to go home and change, but her car wouldn’t start and now she was stuck here and he should have just left without her. Rayden crossed his arms and took her in. She was agitated, and he wouldn’t doubt if behind her sunglasses her eyes were pink and raw.
“Rayden, you really didn’t have to come. I mean, thanks, seriously, but aren’t you late already? I could have called another friend or…” She left the sentence hanging, no doubt realizing he hadn’t gotten a word in since he’d arrived. “Rayden?”
His lips curled into a smile. God, he’d love to draw her into his arms right about now and kiss the confused look off her face. Boundaries, man. You only want to help her.
“I came because I wanted to, Betty. You didn’t force me, and I’m happy to be able to help you.”
“But—”
“Let me finish, baby doll.”
“You really shouldn’t call me that,” she murmured.
“I know. In any case,” he plunged ahead. “As I was saying, I’m here because I wanted to help, and I didn’t want you to miss the Ink-Fest. Besides, I’m already late. What difference will anoth
er hour make?”
“Less clients.”
“Spoken like a businesswoman.” He chuckled. “Vivienne is networking, and Andre, my other tattoo artist, was tattooing this morning.”
“Okay.”
“So, I’m going to take you home so you can change into something else, like you said you’d initially intended to do, and then we’re going to drive up there. We’ll come back for your car tonight. I have a friend who has a garage and can give you a discount.”
“You’re being serious, aren’t you?”
Rayden pushed back his sunglasses.
“Does it look like I’m joking to you?”
Betty tilted her head. “I guess not.”
“Good. Then, grab your purse and get in the car before it gets any later.”
“And you decide to spank me?” she mumbled.
Chapter Seven
“What did you say?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Why did she seem to have no filter when she was around Rayden? It was almost as if he brought out the playful side of her, the one which she’d kept buried for years, too fearful to show it to anyone in case they took advantage of her.
“Nothing,” she said.
Rayden cocked his head, but didn’t push her for an answer.
“I live on Opal Road. It’s on the other side of the interstate. Are you sure stopping by my house is a good idea?” she asked, while locking her car and heading toward the passenger side of his Camaro.
“It’s on the way,” he said, opening the door for her.
“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, sitting down.
“And you’re horrible at whispering,” he countered, leaning over her. His blue eyes blazed, raking over her and making her libido spike.
“Rayden.” She held her breath.
“I hear you loud and clear,” he replied, dipping his head so his warm breath fluttered over her mouth. “Betty.”
His phone rang, the loud rock music blasting them apart. Rayden cursed as he hit his head against the door frame, and she sighed. Whether it was in relief or disappointment, she wasn’t sure.
“Hello,” Rayden answered angrily. He closed her door and walked around the car, all the while speaking to the person on the other line.
“That was Vivienne,” he said, taking the driver’s seat, and clicking his seat belt into place. “She’s livid. There will be clothes at the Fest. Can I buy you something to make up for, well, this?”
Betty stared at him. “Are you serious? You want to buy me clothes because we almost kissed?”
“If you put it that way it sounds terrible.”
“That’s because it is. I’ll be fine. Just get us there.”
“I also meant because I won’t be able to take you home to change as promised, but you’re right. I apologize.”
“Thanks,” Betty said.
Rayden nodded, set the car into gear and sped out of the parking lot, the classic rock radio station blasting Guns N’ Roses.
Betty’s mind churned with confusion. What was happening? She’d met Rayden yesterday. Less than twenty-four hours ago. Yet, around him, she didn’t seem to have an issue to just let go. She was unfiltered. Unafraid. Free. She didn’t understand it. Since Antonio she’d dated a few times, and she’d always been tragically embarrassed to make a mistake, to act in a way which was displeasing to the men she was seeing. Antonio’s shadow and the life she had lived with him followed her to this day.
Except with Rayden. The only thing that frightened her about being with him was losing the chance to be at his side and to learn from him. Betty scowled. And if she kept pushing his buttons, she didn’t doubt he’d send her home. But damn life. There was chemistry between them, clear as daylight, and the kind she hadn’t experienced in maybe forever. But did she want to risk losing the chance to learn from the best tattoo artist in the city for a shag?
Betty sighed and looked out the window. The city swept by, dead in the heat of the summer. It’d only return to life in the evening when the temperatures dropped slightly. She’d have to start fresh. Find another artist who did cover-ups, delay her learning process. She’d already had to wait enough, working her ass off and saving money for years from both the witness protection program allowance and her job at the restaurant so she could afford an apprenticeship. She peeked at Rayden. His lips were pursed, and he was toying with the ring on his bottom lip.
Betty’s breath caught. She wanted to kiss the frown from his face and watch his smile bloom as it’d done when he’d gotten out of the car in the parking lot. She clenched her hands. Why did life have to be so unfair? Betty shut her eyes. What was she going to do?
****
She awoke with a start, the first notes of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”, filling the space around her. How long had she dozed off for? Rayden sang softly. Betty gaped at him.
“Are you singing?” she asked.
Rayden winked at her. “Did you have a nice nap? We’re almost there, and everybody becomes a small-town girl when they listen to this song.” He belted a few more lines.
Betty giggled.
“Come on, Betty, you gotta know the lyrics.”
“I do, but I can assure you, you don’t want to hear me sing.”
“Do it,” Rayden teased her. “It can’t be so bad. Strangers,” he prompted.
Taking a deep breath, Betty joined him.
Rayden cheered loudly.
“That’s my girl,” he cried. He tapped his fingers against the wheel.
They sang the chorus, her off tune voice with his sensual baritone mingling with their hoots of laughter. The song ended, jumping to an AC/DC track.
“Well done, trainee,” Rayden said. He peeked at her, then back at the road. “I’m sorry about earlier, Betty. I promise I’ll behave from now on. No more sexual innuendos.”
“I’m sorry, too, Rayden,” she said. “I can’t seem to stop teasing you. It just seems to come out naturally when I’m around you. It’s not what I usually do, I swear.”
“That’s because you’re a brat,” he declared.
“What? Didn’t you just say no more sexual innuendos?”
“That wasn’t sexual,” he said, with a toothy grin. “You can call a kid a brat, too.”
“Fuck.” Betty covered her face with her hands. “Sorry. You see?”
“Don’t sweat it.” He patted her knee, then just as quickly removed his hand. “We’ve got chemistry, baby doll. It happens, but we’re adults. We can control this. You’re my trainee. I’m your master.”
Betty’s jaw dropped.
“I meant, your mentor, your teacher. Right?” Rayden rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.
“Yeah,” she agreed, sounding breathless. “Exactly.”
Chapter Eight
“Here we are.”
Rayden followed the signs to the guest entrance to the Ink-Fest. The car hit a few bumps and grooves as he drove it across the dirt, jostling them around. Betty shrieked.
“If this is for the guests, I can’t imagine what the parking lot for the attendees looks like.”
“It probably is better than this.”
The area, enclosed by a tall, metallic fence, came into view, a large banner with the Fest’s logo waving in the air. Rayden searched the crowded lot. Vivienne had told him she’d reserved a spot next to the shop’s minivan.
“Isn’t that your design?” Betty asked.
“Yeah. Thanks, doll.” He parked in the spot saved for him, jumped out of the car, and sprinted for Betty’s door just as she was opening it.
“Sorry,” she said, a smile dangling on her lips.
Rayden took a step back and swept his fingers through his hair.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to, um, be courteous.”
“Do you also open Vivienne’s doors for her?” She gave him a wry grin.
“She would bust my balls if I even tried.”
Betty laughed, the sensual sound wrapping around him and
squeezing his chest, leaving him practically breathless.
Fuck. I have it bad.
“I won’t hurt your family jewels, but I can get my own doors. I’m an adult, remember?”
Rayden nodded.
“Yeah, sorry. You’re right. And you’re my apprentice, so let’s get this stuff inside and help Vivienne out before she has a heart attack.” He handed Betty two boxes and took some for himself. “It’s this way,” he said, leading Betty to the main entrance.
After going through security clearance, they entered the festival. Rayden paused and took a deep breath. He loved the atmosphere in these places. Live music blared from an ongoing concert, while people drank, ate, and walked around, checking out all the stands. The whole place pulsed with life and with groups of likeminded people, who enjoyed tattoo art, piercings, cars, and good food.
“The stand must be that way,” Betty said, pointing to the map they’d been given at the entrance.
“Then, let’s find it.”
They’d barely walked a few feet when Vivienne’s spiked green hair came into view.
“You guys are finally here,” Vivienne shouted above the noise, approaching them with arms open. She took Betty’s stuff from her. “Welcome to the team, Betty.” She then turned to him with a glare. “When I told you to hurry, I didn’t mean you had to kidnap the poor girl from her job. You didn’t even give her time to change.”
“What? You said you needed me here ASAP, because Andre had had to go home.”
“Yes, but thirty more minutes wouldn’t have killed me. Ugh. Men,” Vivienne said, rolling her eyes. “Come here, Betty. Fortunately, I’ve got some t-shirts tucked away. The girls’ tank top is going to look great on you with your boobs.” Giggling, Betty followed Vivienne to the back of the tent where she began to rummage in some boxes. “Here. Let’s go to the bathroom. This place is filled with awesome people, but there are a few creepers, too.” Vivienne gave him a sharp look.
“Are you calling me a creep, Viv?”
“He’s already seen my breasts,” Betty said.
“And probably wouldn’t mind seeing them again,” Vivienne said, wagging her finger. “That reminds me I didn’t get a chance to see your new tat. I was on the phone when you left.”
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