Masquerade

by Nyrae Dawn

Bee grabs something from against the wall and I see it’s a foldout table. After helping her set it up, she nods toward the table. “You going to start drawing?”

  Her words send electricity shooting through me. She could easily draw whatever she wants, exactly how she wants it. Instead she’s asking me.

  Trust. She fucking trusts me.

  “What do you want?” My mouth feels dry, so I open the bottle and take a drink. Fuck, this girl does something to me. She ties me in knots and makes me feel free at the same time.

  “Leaves, on my shoulder blade.” Her eyes dart to the desk and back at me. “Everything you need to get started is right there. I’ll be right back. I’m going to change.”

  And then she’s gone and I’m at the desk. After taking off my jacket, I toss it in the corner. Leaves. What the hell? A little flash of memory hits me. Seeing the leaf fall on her shoulder. Watching her pick it up, then another one.

  I think of the stars going down her side and the story she told me about camping. Her Gemini, the mask like someone would wear at a masquerade on the back of her neck and I know. I fucking know what she does. Those things are important to her and the leaves from today are too.

  This burst of pride like I haven’t felt in so long fills me. I brought her today and it was important to her. She trusts me to put this piece of her life into her skin forever.

  I’m not sure anything has ever been so special to me.

  My hands actually shake a little as I sit at the desk. As soon as I put the pencil to paper, it’s like something takes me over. This need and desire to create something incredible for her possesses me and it starts to flow: one leaf on top, another floating below it, and a third under that. The second two are both bent whichever way the wind chooses to fold them. With the side of the pencil I shade some curving lines for the wind. I draw little spidery lines in each leaf, smearing some of the lines. What happens next is automatic. In each of the leaves is a letter, spelling her name.

  Not Leila. Not Coral. Even if she goes back to either of those names, she needs to know she gets to decide who she is. And she chose Bee.

  By the time I finish, I know it’s been at least forty-five minutes. Bee isn’t back yet but then I didn’t expect her to be. She’s waiting for me. I don’t let myself overthink how I know that.

  Sticking my head out the door, I call, “We’re good.”

  It’s not five seconds later she’s coming out of the room across the hall wearing short-shorts and a tank top with a thin strap. Her hair is up and all I can think about is how much I want to taste her neck. To put my hands through her hair and kiss the skin I’m about to mark to show it some sweetness before the pain.

  “What’cha got for me, Scratch?” She walks in the room and I follow. Bee heads straight over to the desk, her back to me as she studies the drawing. My heart kicks up as I crack my knuckles.

  “If you want something else—”

  “It’s perfect.” She turns. “It’s beautiful.”

  I think about that sunflower on the back of her calf, I know her stars, her Gemini, the mask, and her leaves but I don’t know that.

  “Are you sure you want me to do this?” It fucking kills me to ask but I have to. I can do it. I’ll make it fucking beautiful but I need her to be sure.

  “I wouldn’t let anyone else.”

  Christ I want to kiss her so bad. I know if I do, we won’t stop. And I want to do this tattoo for her. “This is going to get in the way.” I run my finger down the strap on her tank top.

  She looks up at me, all strength and honesty. “Then take it off.”

  I slide my hands down—down her shoulders and her arms to her waist. Bee shivers when I reach my destination but I start going back up, this time with the bottom of her shirt in my grasp. She raises her arms and I pull the fabric off her before tossing it to the floor.

  I swear it’s like my fucking insides are shaking. My tongue traces my lips and I wish I was licking hers instead. Or a tattoo, or each peak of her perfect breasts as she stands in front of me naked from the waist up.

  “You’re fucking killing me here.”

  She grins. “Then we better get started. I’d hate for something to get in the way of getting my ink.”

  My hand slides around her side. “Just worrying about yourself, huh?”

  “It’s a great tattoo.”

  Her compliment only reignites the wildfire burning me up. “You’ll be the perfect canvas.”

  She gasps, my words shocking her the same way they do me. She recovers quickly. “There’s antibacterial soap in the bathroom down the hall. Wash up. I’ll get everything set up.”

  Before I lose the strength to do it, I head out of the room. It doesn’t take me long to wash my hands and she’s almost finished with the setup when I get back into the room. The supplies, towels, gun, and ink are all laid out on the table. After grabbing the saran wrap, I put some Vaseline on it.

  “Sit down.” My voice comes out scratchy.

  Bee does as I say, leaning forward so her back is to me, her breasts up against the back of the chair. Laying the paper against the smooth skin of her shoulder blade, I watch as the hairs on the back of her neck move with my breath.

  “Do you have a mirror so I can make sure you like the placement?”

  “It’s perfect.” She doesn’t even turn around.

  “Bee—”

  “I know what I’m doing, Maddox. I can feel where it is. I saw the drawing. We’re good, okay?”

  Without a reply, I slip the gloves on and find the right speed on the machine. Goose bumps travel down her arms when I rub a light layer of Vaseline on her shoulder. All inked up and ready, with no hesitation, I touch the needle to her skin. Bee doesn’t flinch—doesn’t move at all as I move down the first line.

  Neither of us talk for the longest time. No words are needed right now as I make something that’s important to her, a piece of her forever.

  I do the first leaf and then move to the second. Time passes but I don’t know how much. It doesn’t matter. All that does is the art. The whole time I don’t let myself wonder if I’m ready for this. She thinks I am, and I trust her. Christ, I fucking do.

  I’ve never felt as connected to another person as I do in this moment with her.

  And I know it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.

  “You good?” I ask her before I start the third leaf. Each of the lines is clean and how they’re supposed to be. The skin of her shoulder is red and puffy but it doesn’t take away from the beauty of the ink.

  “You have a steady hand. I can tell.”

  “Thanks but I asked how you are.” I lift the needle from her shoulder and she turns to look at me.

  “Rock steady up here.”

  Fuck she gets to me. I wonder if there’s anyone like her in the world but know there’s not.

  Once I’m working on the third leaf, I say, “You have stars because of that night on your birthday. The Gemini because you feel like two people. Your mask because you hide . . . I saw you.” After wiping more Vaseline on her skin, I continue, knowing this is the one place where she can’t pull away. It’s fucking crazy. I want to talk to her, want her to talk to me, push her to open up. “I saw you with the leaves at the party, Bee, and now you want them in your skin. Your tattoos are about what’s important to you, aren’t they?”

  She’s silent for what feels like forever. Anger at myself sneaks in, singeing my edges when I’m not sure they have a right to. We said from the beginning what this was about and telling each other about our past wasn’t included.

  Neither was this . . .

  But fuck . . . I want to know, need to know more about her. “If you don’t want to tell me, you can say it.”

  “I always want to be able to take the good things with me. I want a reminder because you never know when everything will change. When you won’t be able to tell what’s good and bad or right and wrong, so I make sure the good is with me.”

  It’s a struggle not
to pull the tattoo gun from her but I keep going, don’t break the contact so she can’t pull away and so I can’t either. She wants to keep the good with her. I fight through my angry memories and try to think of the good. I blocked it out, not wanting to hold on to it because I didn’t know which parts of it were real or not.

  “That’s good. There’s strength in making sure you remember, Bee.”

  She lets out a deep breath. “You think?”

  It takes me a minute to reply. I’m working on the hidden e in her last leaf, wishing I could wipe away the angry red skin so it will be perfect the first time she sees it. “Yeah . . . you’re kind of incredible. Has anyone told you that?” Closing down my thoughts, I focus on the muscle in my chest for the first time in forever.

  “No.” Her voice is soft . . . sweet in a way I’ve never heard it. “It scares me that you did, only not as much as it should. That freaks me out even more.”

  “It’s not like you’re the only one who’s nervous here.” Because I’m falling for her. Really fucking falling for her. I think I’ve known it for a while but it hasn’t been as real as it is right now.

  “This is different, isn’t it?” She drops her head and I really wish I could see her face. She’s voicing what I’ve been feeling.

  “You know the answer to that.” It’s all I can think of to say and I know she’ll appreciate me for it. Because that’s how we work. We don’t need words.

  So we don’t use them. She stays bent forward as I continue to tattoo her. Soon I’m changing the tip so I can do the shading of the wind. Bee hardly moves, just trusts me with her body.

  When I finally finish, I have no idea how late it is. After turning the gun off, I set it to the table. “Done.” Obviously but she doesn’t call me on it. It feels wrong to completely study it before she gets the chance, so I pull my eyes away and stand. “Let’s go.”

  Grabbing her wrist, I help her stand. When she turns, I remember she’s half naked, and for the second time in the past few seconds, I have to rip my eyes away from her.

  Bee lets me lead her to the bathroom. I stand against the wall as she leans forward, her back toward the mirror, neck turned so she can peek over her shoulder.

  It’s the most incredible fucking sight I’ve ever seen. Her breasts, her flat stomach with the piercing. Those stars that go up her side, and then my mark in the middle of the puffy skin on her shoulder.

  Knots form in my stomach as I watch her, as I wait for her. This is her memory, this is the way she wants to take this day with her wherever she goes and it’d kill me if I fucked that up.

  Our eyes meet in the mirror and then she turns her head to face me. “It’s even more amazing than I thought it would be . . . Maddox . . . you’re incredible. Do you know that?”

  It’s so close to what I said to her not long before. Words are trapped in my throat, clogged in my brain as I try to figure out how to reply to her. Instead, I do the only thing I can think of—try to take care of her.

  She doesn’t say a word as I slip out of the bathroom. I grab the saran wrap and find some medical tape in the cabinet. Bee is right where she was when I left her, only again she’s looking at the tattoo.

  “Let me wrap it for you.”

  She nods. The plastic wrap sticks to her tattoo because of the Vaseline. I tape it down to be safe. It’s a short distance to bend forward and press my lips to the back of her neck, where it meets her shoulder. This time, it’s Bee who turns to face me, looking up at me with a look in her eyes I’ve never seen from her.

  This frenzied need explodes inside me. Nothing can keep me from tasting her. My lips cover hers, soft, pleading for her to let me have her. To give herself to me the way I want to give myself to her.

  Her mouth opens and I slip my tongue inside. My hands squeeze each side of her waist. It fucking kills me not to press her against the wall but I don’t want to hurt her tattoo.

  Her hand goes between us and I’m scared she’s going to push me away but instead her hand goes down . . . down until she cups my erection. “Fuck,” I hiss, pulling away from her. “I want you, baby. Fuck the rules. Let me have you.”

  Bee steps back and it’s like a fist slamming into my gut. I need her beneath me. Need her bare skin under my hands and mouth. I don’t think I can take it if she says no.

  “Bee—”

  Her voice cuts off my plea. “If you want me, take me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ~Bee~

  Maddox doesn’t give me time to contemplate my words when his mouth swiftly comes down on mine. It’s stronger, fiercer, and more intense than any kiss we’ve ever shared when his tongue passes between my lips and into my mouth. Even though I know it’s only been seconds, it feels like years that I’ve been waiting for him, and I immediately melt into the kiss.

  My hands touch his face, feel the rough stubble. It might be one of the best feelings in the world. I keep going, continuing to touch him before tangling my hands in his hair. He palms my ass and then lifts as I wrap my legs around his waist.

  “Christ I’ve wanted to do this again for so long.” His lips are moving across my neck and . . . down, as he starts to head out of the bathroom.

  “Me too.” I lean back, hating the honesty that flows out of me so easily. Confused as to why I do want him so much. Or maybe not confused but scared. I don’t want to fall in love. It makes people do stupid things.

  “Which door?” Maddox’s gravelly voice sounds almost like a growl.

  “What if I don’t tell you?”

  His grip on me tightens. “Then I’ll use the wall.”

  He backs me up until my back is only an inch from the hallway but stops. Without him saying a word, I know exactly why. My heart turns to putty. I want to harden it, put in cement, but somehow he won’t let me. Even something as simple as him worrying about my tattoo makes me feel soft in a way I’m not sure I ever have.

  In a way that I should?

  No. I shove those thoughts out of my head. I want to enjoy this too much without thoughts of trying to be someone I’m not.

  “The door across from where you tatted me.”

  Maddox carries me inside, his mouth back on mine again. I dig my heels into him, trying . . . needing . . . to pull him as close to me as I can. He’s busting down those walls inside of me, getting closer and closer whether I want him to or not.

  Maddox turns before sitting on my bed. I’m straddling his lap, the hard length of his erection nuzzled right where I want him to be.

  “Are we doing this?” he asks. The question surprises me. Makes me wonder if I should want to run.

  “Don’t ask. Just do it.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “Not this time. I want you to tell me, no rules. Just us.”

  Desire and . . . love? Need? I don’t know what it is but they lure the words from my mouth. “No rules. Just us. We’re totally doing this.”

  His fingers slide across my belly as I stand up. My hands tremble as I push my shorts down.

  His eyes skate up and down my body like a gentle caress. I’ve never been embarrassed of my body before. I’m not now. Still a small urge to cover myself sneaks up on me. It’s more personal being naked around Maddox than it’s ever been with anyone else. Like he sees more of me than I show. Before I have the chance to think about it, his voice breaks through my nerves. “Jesus Christ, you are so fucking beautiful.”

  Maddox leans forward, his tongue slipping out of his mouth, flicking the piercing in my belly button. I have the urge to do the same thing to the one in his nipple but know it has to be tender still.

  “Your turn.” I run my hand through his hair and he looks up at me through his dark eyelashes. Those gray eyes seeking . . . searching. I’m not sure what for.

  And then he grabs the bottom of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head. It falls to the floor before he’s pushing off my pale yellow bed and going for the buttons on his pants. I can’t stop myself from leaning forward. Of letting my mouth taste and te
ase his bare chest, as close to the piercing as I can.

  Maddox hisses. I somehow know it’s not in pain. When his pants are gone, I look down to enjoy the view, but then he’s falling to the bed and pulling me on top of him. This strange happiness bubbles up from my stomach as a laugh tumbles out of my mouth. It’s so foreign-sounding that it makes me want to laugh harder.

  “What are you laughing at, baby?”

  There’s a playfulness in his voice that I’m not used to hearing from him.

  “Just realizing that since you gave me a tat on my back, I get to be on top.” The words weren’t planned but they make his gaze turn dark as his grip on my ass tightens.

  “You can be on top of me any time you want to.”

  Maddox pulls my hair tie out, and my blond waves fall over my shoulder before he lies down. I go with him, kissing him, because I need him on my tongue.

  He palms one of my breasts, playing with my nipple, and even though we just started, I feel the beginning of my orgasm already burning through me.

  “I want you,” I tell him.

  “Fuck, I love that about you. Love that you’re not afraid to say what you want.”

  My body freezes at the word. I know Maddox isn’t saying he loves me. It still makes a cold shiver run through me.

  “Don’t. Don’t fucking do that, Bee. You said you want me, so take me.”

  That’s what I need to hear. Leaning forward, I reach for the drawer beside my bed to grab a condom. When I do, Maddox’s warm, wet mouth covers one of my nipples. I can’t help but cry out, the need in me starting to blaze again.

  I open the wrapper before scooting far enough off of him that I can roll the condom down. He doesn’t stop touching me the whole time, and then I’m straddling him again. I lean forward and can’t help but look down at him. At the stubble on his jaw and the intense stare in his eyes. He’s lying there, waiting, looking up at me as though it’s the first time he’s seen me.

  My hair down, brushing his chest, Maddox reaches up and cups my cheek. “If you don’t do this, I’m going to.”

  My smile comes out of nowhere.

  And then I move, slowly, so so slowly, as I make us one. He’s inside me and we’re moving together and that satisfied burn starts building higher and higher again.