Trix
CLIMBING ONTO the back of Boz’s bike, I wrap my arms around his muscular frame and lay my head against his shoulder. “I love your bike, babe.”
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says, just before he starts the engine.
The gentle vibration of the motor climbs up my legs and sends a tingle right to my pussy. Looking over his shoulder, his scent reaches my nose. His leather and the mesmerizing scent of his cologne reminds me of home, because Boz is my home.
My hair is whipping in my face, and I raise my hand to push it behind my ears. Boz’s gruff voice hits my ears. “Keep your arms tight, Trix.”
Doing as he says, I circle his waist again and hold on tight. The tires glide over the road as the scenery passes us by. After twenty minutes of riding, he pulls into a parking lot in front of Ink Blood tattoo parlor and cuts the motor.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks as he crawls off the bike and grabs my hand.
Climbing off the bike, I lean into his side. “More than ready.”
He leads me inside the shop, right to the receptionist’s desk, and says, “We’ve got an appointment with Frankie.”
Before she can respond, a tattoo-covered man comes walking out of the back. He comes straight to us and says, “Boz, my man.”
“Good to see you, Frankie,” Boz replies and says, “This is my old lady. She needs her ink and I want something new.”
“Sounds good to me,” Frankie says, before reaching out and grabbing my hand. His tattoo-covered arms draw my attention as I take in his ink. He is covered in every color of the rainbow, and I love them all. “Love your ink!”
“Thanks, sweet thing,” he says with a wink as he motions for me and Boz to follow him to the back of the shop.
Holding on to Boz’s hand, I let him lead me into a small room. He then hands the man a piece of paper and says, “This is my new piece. I don’t have much free space, so I’m thinking right on the base of my spine.”
Frankie laughs and says, “Please, don’t tell me you want a tramp stamp.”
My man’s eyes narrow and he says, “You better make sure it doesn’t look like a tramp stamp, little man. If it does, I’ll break your fucking hands.”
“Whoa, brother. I was just giving you shit.” The man throws up his hands. “Are you sure there’s nowhere else you can put it?”
Frankie is obviously worried now, not wanting to even chance putting a tramp stamp on my man. Boz takes off his cut and hands it to me, then whips his tee over his head. He turns around, letting the man see that nearly every inch of skin is covered.
“I have some room on my chest, but only my club colors and my old lady’s name will ever go there.” Boz shakes his head, running his hand over the tat of my name he got a week ago. “Other than that, you got my ass and my dick. You’re not getting close to either one of those.”
“I know your legs are covered,” Frankie says as he studies him, trying to find any ink-free skin. “I could maybe get it on the neck.”
I see where he’s talking about, right under Boz’s left ear, wrapping around the back of his neck, so Grim’s head looks like he’s taking a bite out of his master’s jugular vein. “I like that idea. It’s kinda fitting.”
My man is getting a tattoo of Grim, wanting to have a part of his dog with him forever. We took about a million pictures of Grim, before finally settling on one of his head with him snarling at the camera. Addy showed off her artistic ability by drawing the photo, only adding a bit more ferociousness to the picture. I think tatting him on the same spot he took Crank’s life would be fucking poetic.
Boz nods before sitting down on a chair and pulling me in his lap. “I want Trix’s ink to be started first. You work on her a while then come do mine.”
“You getting the normal old lady tat?” he asks, and I nod.
Boz wanted me to design something that was just mine, but I refused. I like the history behind the original old lady tat as much as the ink itself, so why would I change it? We went a few rounds over it, ended up spending the last two months fighting about it, but he finally gave in. Later on, I plan on giving in a little myself and getting something designed that somehow encompasses both him and Grim—the two men that saved my life. I want it on the arm that got injured from the shards of steel that hit me. The doctor was wrong; I do wear some scars from that day, but not many, only a few white spots where some of the metal went in a bit deep. I want that tat right above the scars.
“Yeah, that’s what I want. I’m getting it on my chest, right above my heart,” I tell him, turning my head a bit to place a kiss on Boz’s whisker-covered chin.
“Okay, I’m gonna go make the transfers I need. You need to lose the shirt and get up on my table,” he says before leaving the room.
I stand up from Boz’s lap and take off my shirt then climb up on the table. I look over at Boz to see him staring at me, his hand adjusting his cock. I shake my head at him. “I’m not even naked and you’re getting hard. You’re gonna have to learn some control, old man.”
His eyes are full of heat as he says, “Doesn’t matter whether you’re naked or not. My dick gets hard anytime you’re around.”
He gets up and comes over to me, cupping my face with his hands. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I stare into his beautiful green eyes and smile. “I have no doubt about wanting your name on my body. I don’t mind being property, if I’m yours.”
His lips gently brush against mine. “I love you, darlin.”
“Always?” I ask, kissing him back.
Right before his tongue delves into my mouth, he says, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”