Becca

Every time I thought about Jake, my brain was telling me ‘no’, but my pussy was giving me a big ‘yes’!

I’d been lying in bed for a good couple of hours, not wanting to get up. The morning was half gone already, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t slept much the night before, but I wasn’t tired. I was kidding myself thinking my frustration was with my father and the conversation at lunch was keeping me awake, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t my demanding, judgmental, arrogant father. Not at all. I’d been living with his stern stares and long lectures for years. No, my mind kept picturing a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed man I barely knew.

Just thinking about Jake made me wet. He’d looked so good when he stopped to help me change my tire. Beads of sweat had run down his golden skin as we stood under the scorching midday sun. His hands had been covered in oil and grease from fixing my tire, but it did nothing to mar his looks. The truth was the dirt and grime made him look dangerously sexier. He’d been willing to get down and dirty for me like a bad boy gentleman.

But he was older. Not like a creepy father figure or something, but he was twenty-four. At least. It was as if the age difference made him off-limits, forbidden fruit. No, it was more that I was too young, a virgin just out of high school. And he’d called me a princess.

To him, I probably was. But that didn’t mean I felt like one.

He was so different from the guys in the all-boys school we usually had dances with. They always looked so kept, with not a single strand of hair on their heads out of place. The polos and blazers they wore never creased. I couldn’t help but imagine a few of my guy friends trying to change my tire, and I burst out laughing. I just couldn’t fathom them getting down and dirty. I doubted they even knew how to do it. They’d probably have their chauffeurs change my tire instead.

But Jake…

I shook my head as his name made me sigh. Nothing about the way he changed my tire was humorous. He’d been oh-so sexy, efficient, and so…manly. I laughed imagining him putting the boys in the private school to shame. He’d been one himself, graduating and then going his own way. Giving his father and the country club lifestyle the finger.

The bad boy image worked for him. Every part of him seemed to have been carved by a master sculptor, and what made it even better was that all his tattoos seemed to fit perfectly with his physique. Yes. Him. Definitely.

I should have been interested in the boys who I graduated with. Off to Harvard or Princeton and then back to work in the family law firm, just as Jake had been expected to do. I was expected to work at my father’s firm until I married, after which, I’d never use my college education for more than popping out two children and taking them to the country club pool.

No, I didn’t want that any more than Jake did. He’d walked away. I wanted to. I didn’t want any of the guys my father pushed my way. I felt no attraction. No desire. Nothing. I wanted someone who made my breath catch, my heart race, my nipples harden and my pussy ache. If I was going to fulfill the stupid virgin pact I’d made with a few of my girlfriends before graduation, it was going to be difficult with the Todds and Chads I knew. So far, there hadn’t been anyone worthy. I wasn’t going to hand my V-card over to just any guy.

My friends Jane and Mary had already done it. Snagged the right guys and given it up. From the way they looked at their men—and they were men—they’d enjoyed it immensely. Jane had been the first, snagging our Civics and Government teacher, Mr. Parker. Mary, on the other hand, had been set up with Greg, Mr. Parker’s friend. Well, it wasn’t really a setup. Mary was babysitting Greg’s niece, and things had progressed rapidly from there.

Now, both were madly in love with their respective boyfriends, and they wanted me to find the same. They were always gushing about going on dates together, and that dating older men came with certain perks…both outside and inside the bedroom. From eating in classy, expensive restaurants to experimenting with hot sex, they boasted how it was better with older men. I believed them. No one could ever go wrong with experience, but the competitive part of me wanted the extra challenge of finding my own…virgin taker?

I laughed at the thought. Virgin-taker sounded so…medieval, but that basically summed up what I was looking for. He didn’t have to be older like Mr. Parker or Greg. He just had to be the right guy. My thoughts immediately went to Jake. Yeah, I finally found the guy who I wanted to give my virginity to.

I’d have no issues having my first time with Jake. I remembered how effortlessly he replaced my tire. He was strong and very good with his hands. He’d probably be able to carry and throw me onto his bed with one hand. I had no doubt he knew exactly what to do. A guy that gorgeous couldn’t have been single all these years. I hoped he knew his way around a woman’s body because that would make for an excellent first time.

What was even better was what my father would think of me hooking up with the black sheep, tattoo covered rebel like Jake.

Since our fathers worked closely together, mine never failed to talk about that “rebel kid.” He never said Jake’s name. He always ranted about how ungrateful Jake was to turn his back on his family. His parents, just like mine, had paid for everything. They’d put him in the best schools, groomed him for success he’d have no problem achieving. My father had even been ready to give him a position in his company as one of the heads of the legal department.

“He just walked away from everything, from an easy life of power, wealth, and success…to what?” My father had said on numerous occasions. Back then, his words never really bothered me because I only remembered Jake as another face from the funeral, nothing more. But now, they stung because I was in a similar position. I wanted to carve out my own path, one very different from what my father had been preparing for me my whole life. If he’d been so harsh with Jake, I wondered how he’d be with me, his own daughter. I had a feeling our lunch argument was only the beginning.

I forced myself to get up. I’d holed myself up in my room too long already that the thoughts in my head were making me grumpier. I needed to get out, and immediately I knew where to go. Who I needed to see. Hell, I’d spent all morning thinking about him.

An hour later, I found myself standing in front of his tattoo parlor, R.

R—the name of his business. It was catchy, yet its simplicity put the spotlight on where it was rightfully supposed to be—the artwork. I gathered enough courage to suck it up and go inside. What if he didn’t want to see me? What if he thought of me as a little kid? Or worse, a princess? I thought of calling and making an appointment to get a tattoo, and I didn’t even know if I wanted one. Now that I was here, being inspired by the artwork on display, I was certain I wanted some ink, and I knew specifically the design I wanted.

“Hey, good morning! Do you have an appointment?” the lady at the reception asked. She wore a white tank top that showed off the tattoos on her left arm and down over the back of her hand. “I’m Anna, by the way.”

“Becca,” I shared as I looked around the big room. “I’m just a drop in, if that’s okay?”

Honestly, the space was far from what I expected, and a little part of me felt ashamed at my own judgmental self. The place was sleek, modern, and upscale. The walls were in a dark gray palette with the ceiling in stark white. Ambient yellow lighting set the mood with white-light lamps strategically positioned right above the chairs and tables where people got tattooed. It was clean, neat. My eyes roamed the entire place, and they finally found him.

Jake was busy talking to a client as he smeared some ointment on a fresh tattoo, then wrapped it in plastic wrap. I thought of going over to him, but I didn’t want to interrupt.

“Sure, drop ins are fine. Have you met any of the artists before?” With that, I turned my head to look at Anna. “Most of the customers want last-minute appointments after randomly meeting one of our artists, so the schedule’s quite packed. It’s great though…very effective marketing.” The two of us shared a smile at that before I nodded my head.

“Worked for me,” I agreed. “I have a design in mind, but I can’t draw to save my life. Do you think I can speak to one of the artists and have him draw what I want?”

Anna beamed. “Absolutely. Want to see our artists’ portfolios? They’re all amazing, so your choice depends on the style and aesthetic you want.”

I didn’t need to look to know what I wanted. Who I wanted. “Jake…Jake Huntington,” came my instant response. “I want him.”

“Hmm…Jake…” she trailed off, moving her head to look at her desktop computer. “Unfortunately, he’s fully booked for the rest of the week. He’s available next Thursday. Is that alright? You’ll have time to iron out the details of the design you want.”

I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I’d made up my mind and waiting a week would only give me the time I needed to chicken out. Not about the tattoo, but about the rest. In this moment, I was bold, but would it last? Would I be able to come back and tell him I wanted him for more than just a tattoo? “He’s pretty busy, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s great, actually. He’s very hands on even if he’s the owner.”

Hands on. Good. I wanted him to be very hands on.

“He could let the other artists do his work for him, but he enjoys what he does. ‘Enjoy’ is even an understatement.”

Becca couldn’t help but smile at that. Can the guy get any more attractive? His looks were more than enough, and now, his passion for what he does? Damn, was all I could think.

If I couldn’t have Jake in bed, then I could still get a tattoo.

“Who’s free to tattoo me tonight? I don’t think I want to wait,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

I felt the back of my neck burn, and when I turned around, Jake was looking right at me. I sucked in a harsh breath at his steel gaze. He started walking towards me.