I finish my clients for the day and take a few walk-in piercings. Oorah ink is building a name faster than I can keep up. I’m going to have to bring in another artist to keep up with the demand.

It is eight fifteen when I hear the knock on the door. Jaci is standing nervously outside the door. Her fingers are worrying the hem of her shirt, a habit I noticed when we first met.

She sees me through the tinted window as I’m unlocking the door. I swear it looks like she is about to make a run for it. Our conversation earlier was enlightening. She is a virgin and relationships scare her as much as casual sex does.

Everything in me says to stay away because I don’t do commitment. Jaci is a fucking virgin, who deserves to have the white picket fence with two point five kids and a dog. I should mark her skin with my tattoo, then send her on her way. Let some other asshole pop her virginal cherry and wake up in her bed every morning. The thought is as unappealing to me as getting stabbed in the dick with a needle.

I’ve given my fair share of dick piercings. It comes with the territory, but I don’t care who it is, nobody is getting near my junk with a fucking needle. The idea of Jaci with some faceless asshole, who isn’t me pisses me the fuck off.

When I open the door, I pull her in and back her up against it as I turned the lock. Anger is still pulsing through me, so I take it out on her with a hard-unyielding kiss. She whimpers. Fuck.

Way to fucking scare her dickhead. I chide myself and ease up, gentling the kiss. Her hands are on my shoulders with her fingers clutching at the fabric. I reach up with my right hand and run my thumb along the underside of her jaw, caressing and calming her. She is relaxed and kissing me back when I end the kiss.

My left hand is splayed against the glass door above her head, as I rest my forehead against hers. She is panting, while her lips are puffy and wet from my kiss. I grit my teeth as I imagine her perfectly pouty lips wrapped around my cock.

“Fuck, Jaci.” I groan when she runs her tongue across her lips. She has no idea how much I want her and how close I’m to losing control.

“How can you write woman’s porn and still be so innocent?”

She stiffens, “It’s not porn.” She pushes me away and starts pacing. “It’s romance, and just because I don’t have personal experience doesn’t mean I don’t read and can’t imagine. If I don’t know the answer, I research it. You should see my browser history. I’m probably on a list somewhere.” She threw her hands up, and her cheeks are flushed with irritation. God, she is exciting.

“Oh yeah. What kind of research have you looked up recently?” I’m hoping she’d say something kinky and hot.

She pauses and gives me a pointed glare, “How to castrate a man. Surprisingly it’s not that different from pigs or cows.”

“What the fuck are you looking that up for?” I shudder and resist the urge to cover my dick.

She shrugs and turns her back on me, dismissing the subject. Jaci might be innocent, but she knows what the fuck she is doing by leaving that thought in my head to fuck with me. I’m both pissed and proud of her for it. Evil innocence.

“So, about the tattoo…” She changes the subject as she walks around looking at the sketches on my walls. I have photographs of work I’d done and sample artwork hanging on the walls. The walls are also covered with my flash art, and she is studying each drawing as if it were a piece of fine art hanging in a museum.

I walk up behind her to see which sketch holds her attention so intently. She is staring at a unicorn I’d tattooed on a girl’s ribcage. I can’t remember her name, but I remember spending hours on the tattoo getting the shading and colors just right. Afterward, I covered her new ink and fucked her in the back room. She is faceless to me, a picture on the wall. I remember the art, not the girl.

“This is pretty.”

“It was a fun one, but you’d regret something that big for your first tattoo. Plus, it hurts more on the ribs.”

“How many tattoos did she have?” I look to see if she suspects I’d slept with the chick, but she doesn’t look like she means anything by the question.

“I can’t remember.” It wasn’t a lie. That tattoo was done when I first opened my shop nearly four years ago. I can barely remember the girl, only the tattoo and fucking her after I gave it to her.

“It was back when I first opened. I really only remember the tattoo.”

“What is your favorite tattoo you’ve done?” She asks moving on to look at more pictures.

“I haven’t done it yet.”