Brian laughed. “Sorry if I embarrassed you, but I couldn’t resist squicking her out.”
“So…you were joking, then?” Inquiring minds had to know.
“About the apa or about putting it on display out there?”
“Both, I guess.”
“I’ll never tell.” He winked at her before going back to fiddling with his equipment. She hadn’t a clue what any of it was, but it looked scary, and she admired the confidence and efficiency with which he handled it. He’d already gone over all their sanitation techniques as if she were any other customer and he’d selected the colors he would need, which were only red and black. The inks sat in two tiny cups on a table beside her.
She’d chosen a small blood-red heart design with black tribal art extending out from both sides. Brian had already transferred the purplish outline to her skin…so low on her belly that even the flimsiest bikini bottoms in existence would probably cover most of it up. She often went swimming in her parents’ pool and there was no freaking way they could ever see it, so unless she wanted it smack on her butt or her boob—which she didn’t—it was the only place she could think of. Shedding her jeans to mid-thigh and pulling her underwear down until it only covered her most private area had almost been the deal-breaker. When she’d planned out her act of rebellion, she hadn’t really let herself think that far ahead. If she had, she might never have gotten through the front door. He’d made her stand while he got down on his knees and rubbed the transfer onto her skin. Thank God she’d waxed. She could only hope he hadn’t noticed how her legs quaked and her nipples beaded at the feel of his fingertips gently smoothing the stencil on. He hadn’t so much as blinked at her dishabille, and she had to keep in mind that he’d probably had hundreds of girls drop their pants in here to get him to do far more risqué body mod than her little tattoo.
Now, lying on the table with her design perfectly centered and ready to be inked, she stared at the ceiling and tried to concentrate on keeping her breathing steady.
“Nervous?” he asked, and she looked over to find his steady gaze on her. “You have a certain deer-inheadlights look I’m quite familiar with.”
“Yeah. Really no use in denying it.”
Cherrie Lynn
“It’ll be all right. Most people compare it to a bee sting.”
“Which isn’t very fun.”
“Not fun, but nothing you can’t take, right?”
“If you say so.”
He chuckled. “If you need a break, tell me, but I’m betting you won’t. Do you want me to do a dry pass so you can get an idea of what it’s like?”
Candace considered. “Better not. I might chicken out, but if you go ahead and start, I’m kind of stuck going through with it, right?” Her eyes widened as his black-Latex-covered hands tore open a package containing a needle. “Holy…”
“Now settle down. It’s not a shot at the doctor’s office. You just get the very tip.” He wheeled the stool he was sitting on closer to her. At that moment she was reminded of being in her doctor’s office, a dreaded event that always made her panic.
Oh, Jesus. There was no way. She couldn’t get through this. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on the music filtering through the speaker system. It was Killswitch Engage, one of Brian’s favorite bands, if she remembered correctly. The singer had an incredible voice. She focused on that rather than the sounds of him getting his machine assembled— machine, he’d told her, not gun—and testing it out. But that whirring buzz whisked her straight from her doctor’s office to the dentist’s chair, and nothing on earth caused her more anxiety than that. Being helpless, immobile, at the mercy of someone wielding an instrument capable of causing her great, agonizing pain…
What in the hell had ever made her think she could do this?
“Have you ever had anyone start to get the tattoo, freak out and not be able to finish?”
“Don’t worry about that. Everyone’s experience is unique, and yours is the only one that matters.”
Great. A whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it even though he had yet to lay the first hand on her.
She must have caught his attention. “Breathe,” he said calmly, and only then did she realize she wasn’t doing so. “Slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” She filled her lungs to capacity and exhaled as he instructed, but she was still too frightened to open her eyes and see how close she was to feeling that needle in her skin. “Keep it up. You’re gonna be fine.”
“I’m glad you’re so sure of that.”
“How old are you today, sunshine?”
She smiled, and suddenly wanted to cry. Yeah, that would be utterly cool of her. But he was trying to put her at ease, and maybe she was a fool of the worst sort, but it made her feel cherished somehow.
“Twenty-three.”
Daring a glance at his profile through her lashes, she saw one corner of his mouth tug up. “Twentythree,” he echoed wistfully. “That was a good year.”
14
Rock Me
“Oh, yeah? What was so good about it?”
He paused before answering. “Hell, I couldn’t really tell you. Just the mere fact that I was younger than I am now, I guess.”
“You talk like twenty-seven is old.”
“Twenty-eight. My birthday was in January.”
“Oh, right. I haven’t seen you in so long. Happy belated birthday, since I didn’t get to tell you then.”
She studied him while she had the opportunity. He’d slapped a black baseball cap on his head and twisted it around backwards to keep his hair out of his eyes. Dressed all in black from head to toe now, down to the gloves he wore, he looked ready to pull off a burglary later tonight. His olive skin was maddeningly without blemish. Exquisite lips, full and defined, were framed by a goatee that looked so sleek and soft… How would it feel against her skin if he ever kissed her? Rough or silken? Would it tickle or scratch? She would never find out, but a girl could dream. Yeah, a dream some other lucky wench would probably experience for real tonight. What the hell was an apadra-whatever, anyway? She’d have to hit Google as soon as she got home just to figure out what he might have going on down there. She had a feeling he’d only been teasing about the picture, but with the piercing? She would bet good money he had it.
“Thanks.” He smiled at her. There was a hint of wickedness behind it, a wickedness she’d love to see fully unleashed. On her.
Maybe it had been a mistake coming here. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her birthday depressed and pining over something she didn’t need and would never have. For so long, Brian had been labeled Michelle’s Boyfriend, pretty to look at, but nothing else. She’d been unprepared for the intensified effect he would have on her now that he’d shaken off that relationship.
“Are you ready to do this?” he asked.
One more deep breath… “Yes.” She closed her eyes again, unwilling to give him any more reason to think she was a total wimp.
“Get through the first few minutes, then your endorphins will kick in and give you a thrill ride.”
“Riiight.”
His chuckle turned into an outright laugh when the first touch of his gloved fingers on her lower tummy nearly jolted her off the table. So much for not appearing wimpy. “Candace, you can’t do that when the needle hits,” he scolded.
“Darn it,” she grumbled, opening her eyes and drawing another breath. “Okay. Just do it. I’m ready. Oh, God.”
“Here we go.”
She forced her gaze downward, when it suddenly seemed far more ominous to not see what was going on down there. Even more striking than the sight of the needle hovering over her skin was Brian’s presence
15
Cherrie Lynn
there, leaning so close to that part of her. She could smell the mint of his gum. Her heart was racing like a frightened rabbit fleeing a predator.
With a firm touch he pulled her skin gently taut, and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip as the very tip of the needle nudged her. She could imagine those fingers, so close to the lacy edge of her panties, slipping lower to do far more pleasurable things… his touch would be at once gentle and confident in his abilities, as it was now.
Her eyes closed again. She bet he would know just how to stroke her, just how much pressure to exert to leave her moaning and gasping for more…
“How does that feel?”
“Hmmm?” she asked dreamily. Did he even have to ask? It would feel magnificent.
“Not so bad, is it?”
Oh, but she wanted it to be bad, bad in the very best way. Just as the outrageous thought flashed through her mind, she realized that the needle tip had been dragging through her skin for the past few seconds and she’d hardly noticed. “Um…that’s it?”
“That’s it. All that freaking out for nothing.”
The buzzing went on, the needle leaving a sting in its wake. He paused often to wipe excess ink off her skin with a towel, and she found that the hardest part was lying still under his hands. She wanted to writhe and arch against them. Force them lower. Being trapped and helpless under his control was turning something on inside her, a burning need that had her stomach flipping slow somersaults. An aching throb built between her thighs, inches away from where his left hand rested on her skin. She licked her lips, watching his intense expression, his unrelenting focus, and wondered what he would think if he knew what was going on in her head, her body. What he was making her feel. When the pleasure-tempered pain of the needle caused her to break out in a fine sheen of sweat, she was wholly grateful they kept it rather cool in here. She began to watch the slow, easy rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. Her own rhythm was growing far too ragged and needy, threatening to dissolve into full-on panting.