TWO
Sienna
River Madden, tattoo artist and the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on, was tattooing my body. His fingertips rasped across my skin like sandpaper, making my nipples pebble and bead under my thin T-shirt. I crossed my legs, hyperaware of every touch, every breath, every glance of his eyes up and down my body.
I liked the way his eyes on me made me feel. My panties were soaked, my thighs damp with this foreign need racing through my bloodstream. I shifted my hips again, resenting the way the soft leather stuck to the backs of my thighs. Praying he couldn’t smell how much I wanted him.
He’d turned in the chair at my side earlier, the outline of his thick cock tenting the loose jeans he wore.
My mouth had watered shamefully, all sense lost from my head and replaced by the fantasy of sliding onto my knees between his thighs and taking him in my hand.
Tracing the ridge of his naked cock with my fingertips and listening to him groan and grunt with desire and lust. Maybe he’d push his hands into my hair and force me to swallow him, suck down his length and empty his come down my throat.
My fingers twitched and ached with the urge to slide my hand between my thighs, slide the pads of my fingers over my clit and come, thinking of pleasuring him.
I was handling the pain of this tattoo just fine. It was the maintaining some sense of normalcy under his hard gaze that was my problem.
I’d made an appointment with River and had been willing to wait for it because I’d seen his work online, not because I’d laid eyes on the man himself. If I had, I may have run the other way. Men like River didn’t see me. I was the scrawny, little-sister type, not the girl who made hot-blooded men everywhere fall to their knees.
I’d never been that girl, and I didn’t want to be. I had a brain in my head, I cussed like a sailor, and who gave a shit if River liked it or not? I was here for his artistic skills—the fact that he made my thighs damp with a single glance was totally beside the point.
“So, I’m thinking a high school boyfriend broke your heart?” He interrupted the silence. If only it were that simple, I sighed inwardly.
“Sure you wanna go assuming again?” I cocked an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “Probably not.” His eyes held mine, fingers pausing as his gaze penetrated my soul. “Got a mouth on you, Sienna Taylor.” His eyes danced when he teased. I loved that.
“Got a problem with that, River Madden?” I retorted, my grin deepening.
His smile quirked to one side, eyes still on me, his thumb rubbing a path of small circles at my wrist. Was he doing it absentmindedly? I wasn’t sure, but I was addicted to his touch already. He finally admitted, “I like a woman who isn’t afraid to speak up. So what makes a girl like you get a tattoo like this?” He began working the outline of the scar. The memory of the night that altered my life irrevocably slammed into me. The memory I was trying to eradicate from my mind—and my body—right this moment.
“Didn’t peg you for a man who spent time on useless things like judging people.”
“No judgment,” he replied. “Just curiosity.”
“The truth is…” I paused, wondering if I was ready to say the words out loud. “Truth is it’s from the one night that ruined my life, and I’m trying to cover it. It has nothing to do with a boy.”
He nodded, eyes flicking up to my face and then back to his work. That explanation was the most I could muster. I didn’t talk about the night that shattered my life, cracking it wide open, and leaving me bleeding out. No one talked about that night. Life was better that way.
It’d taken me a year to finally find just the right design to replace the bumpy white scar I carried. And then it’d taken me months even to get on River’s books. I’d been going out of town for all my tattoos, most happening on drunken, reckless nights with friends where I hardly even remembered where I’d been. But this tattoo, I wanted to get it done in this town. Call it some twisted sense of closure, but it felt like the right thing to do.
“Want to take a break?” River offered, swiping at the fresh ink pressed into my skin and causing me to wince. “Ribs are a tender spot.”
“No, I’m good. Keep going, I like it. It was painful getting the scar, it should be painful when I destroy it too.”
I caught the surprised look on River’s face. His eyes held mine for long beats, air pregnant between us before his fingertips were sliding across my ribs again, sending zaps of fire through me. There was no way he hadn’t noticed the outline of my nipples by now. I cursed myself for not wearing a thicker bra or a sweater or anything to prevent his fingers on my skin from turning me on so damn much.
His deft hands worked across my skin, wiping tenderly and checking me often. I found I liked being under his touch, the center of his world for even a few minutes, even if he was torturing me with a tiny gun.
“Got plans after you leave here today?” His voice was thick, gravelly, like there was something else on his mind other than what he was saying.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m in no rush. In fact, I’d rather hang out here all day than go back to where I’m going.”
“Oh, yeah?” River switched inks then, turning his attention to the bright red drops of blood dripping from the heart. He wiped tenderly, one palm flat on my tummy as he assessed the work so far. “Why would a girl like you want to hang around a place like this?”
“It’s a nice vibe, good people. I like it. And anything is better than home, to be honest. Dad works constantly. Mom is…well, not really here anymore.” Why was I revealing so much? Being chatty wasn’t like me at all.
“Sorry to hear that.” His gorgeous dark eyes flicked to mine, gaze heavy with understanding.
“I’ve applied a few places, just something to get me out of the house more, but there’s not much going on in this town.”
“You aren’t wrong about that.” He pushed the hemline of my shirt up a little more, his pinkie finger settling on the edge of my bra and sending a river flooding between my thighs. I’d come to get inked; I had no idea it’d be a near-orgasmic experience. Or maybe it was just River’s talent. I couldn't stop the illicit thoughts swirling in my head, all inspired by this man.
“You know…” His raspy voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Been lookin’ for someone to run the front, answer phones, make appointments. Dev has been bitching about wanting to tattoo more. It’s time I hired someone else.”
“Really?” I could feel a smile shoot across my face. “You’d let me work here?”
He laughed. “So, it sounds like you'd take the job if I offered?”
“Um, yes! I’ll take anything you’re offering.” I felt warmth crawl up my chest with the double entendre of my words. I stumbled to recover. “Seriously, if you weren’t inking me, I would hug you right now.”
His eyes grew large. “I kind of have this thing about personal space, but an exception could be made—”
“You don’t say?” I teased.
“I’ve also got this rule about smartasses.” He shot me a cocky grin. “Figured you deserved a warning.”
“A warning? So, does that mean there’s a punishment if I violate it?”
“Violate it.” A cocky grin, loaded with innuendo, lifted his lips. “Let’s not get into a discussion about violating things, doll face.”
“Doll face, huh?” I smirked. “Can that be my official shop name?”
“You are a live wire, aren’t you, Sienna?” His eyes returned to my pink flesh, bruised from his needle, and here I was, itching for more.
“Ready to see the damage?” He cleaned up his work with a damp cloth, his fingers slipping under the hem of my bra to tuck up my shirt. Butterflies rioted in my ribcage, a new wave of arousal flooding my pussy and making a moan nearly escape my lips. I felt naked under his gaze, vulnerable and laid bare. His hand clasped with mine, twining our fingers and making my tongue feel like a foreign object lodged in my throat.
“Looks fucking beautiful,” he muttered, eyes holding mine.
I clamped down on my bottom lip, heart rattling my chest as I sucked in a deep breath while he lifted me up.
The way his breath skittered across my neck sent something spiraling out of control in my belly. If he thought anything on me looked fantastic, I was happy. I’d never felt beautiful to anyone, always the plain-Jane tomboy in Chuck Taylors and cutoffs.
I shook the thoughts from my head and smiled when he spun me, angling me toward the mirror to catch a reflection of his art on my body.
I sucked in a sharp breath of air when my eyes landed on the tattoo. Dark droplets of burgundy hung from the heart, and the deep slash through the center covered by three well-placed stitches was perfection. And then the skull. He had done my imagination justice. The faint outline of the skull was like a mirage in the background of the heart, something so soft and almost ethereal. The overwhelming urge to hug him took over me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, leaping into his arms. His hands cupped at my backside instantly, and my arms wrapped around his waist as I clung to him. It’d been so long since I’d clung to anyone, and maybe the adrenaline or the dopamine released by the pain from the needle had flooded my system, but it felt good to be embraced.
“Told you it was goddamn beautiful,” he hissed at my neck, words like a snake trailing through my veins and slithering between my thighs.
“Thank you so much for hiring me. I can’t tell you how much I…” I paused, my hand pushing into the soft hair at the back of his neck. “Needed this.”
I sat back in his arms, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was wrapped around my new boss’s waist.
“Welcome, doll face.”
My cheeks burned brighter with his words. His eyes slid down my face to land on my lips.
I sucked in a soft breath, conscious of his stare all the way to my toes.
This man was fucking gorgeous, and his rough, tattooed hands were holding me firmly against his huge, rock-hard cock.
“I—” I swallowed, stumbling for words. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so long since anyone was really kind to me.”
“Kind to you? Why the fuck would anyone be unkind to you? Does your dad know?”
“My dad’s part of the problem,” I grumbled, sliding out of his arms. I moved to step away, but I was surprised when he pulled me right back against him.
“Did your dad hurt you?” His hand tightened on my arm, jaw clenching as his eyes darkened.
“No. Well, not in that sense.” I pulled out of his arms, turning to admire my tattoo again in the mirror.
“It’s so intricate, the shading around the scar, it just disappears. Like it was always meant to be there.”
“Don’t change the subject. What’s the problem with your dad? If you need a place to stay, I’ve got an extra room—”
“Wait, do you go around offering a bed to sleep in for all your new hires?”
“What?” His face darkened. “’Course not—”
“Never offered me a place to stay.” A woman in the tiniest tube top I’d ever seen slapped River on the shoulder. A huge tattoo of a dreamcatcher stretched across the planes of her abdomen, a piece it looked like she kept adding to with time. She was beautiful, gorgeously tall, and seemed to have a very intimate relationship with River.
“This is Dev. All bark, no bite.” River gestured behind him. “Dev, meet the new manager, Sienna.”
“Hey, Sienna,” she called before she sat down at her sketch table.
“Hey,” I returned, before glancing back to River. “Manager? I’m not qualified to be a manager. I have, like, three business classes from the community college under my belt.”
“From here on out, I decide what you can and can’t do.” He shot me a reckless look, squeezing a hand at my waist. “Now let’s get you bandaged up, and I’ll show you around.”
“Can't wait.”
“For the bandage or the tour?”
“Both.” And his hands on my skin again.
That was the part I was the most anxious for.
“I like your enthusiasm.” His smile deepened, his hand catching my wrist and raising it above my head. His other fingers darted across the tender flesh of my new tattoo as he rubbed ointment into it. His other hand trailed down the underside of my arm, sending a riot of pleasure through my bloodstream. Sliding his hand across my belly, he held me still as he bandaged me tenderly, sliding tape across the covering until it was secure.
His hands lingered on my body for extra-long beats, the wide expanse of his fingers making me feel impossibly small against him. I struggled to calm my raging heartbeat when his palm slid up my chest cavity, fingers dancing across every one of my ribs slowly, and sending my head into full-blown meltdown mode.
He caught my shirt in his finger and gently snagged it from its position in my bra, putting it back into place before leaning in.
I sucked in one slow breath, savoring the woodsy scent of his soap when his nose hovered at the shell of my ear. “Ready for that tour?”
“So ready,” I breathed without thinking.
His soft chuckle was the only reply before he hooked my hand in his and turned to the front desk. “Lucky for you, ink is free for employees. Got anything else in mind?”
“So many things.”
His eyebrows arched when we reached the desk. “I believe it. Live wire, doll face. Gonna be fun having you workin’ here.”
“What about you? Anything else you want?” I gestured to the tattoos across his forearms, another peeking out of the neckline of his T-shirt.
“Got a few special ones planned for someday.”
“Someday?”
“Space is at a premium on my body.” He lifted his shirt, revealing eight rock-solid slabs of abdominal muscle covered in the wings of an eagle. The feathers were so detailed it must have taken hours for one wing alone.
“That’s fucking incredible.” I stepped closer, fingers itching to trace the ridges.
“Thanks.” He nodded, lowering his shirt. “More across my back. Comes a time you start filling up, so the shit I add now has to mean something.”
“Didn’t it all mean something at one time?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “Older you get, the more shit means, though.”
“You’re not even that old, like, twenty-five? Six?”
“Might be surprised what a man can survive in twenty-nine years.”
I nodded. “Women too.”
“Yeah,” he finished, eyes lingering on mine before turning to the computer. “Ever used a program to make appointments before?”
“Never.”
“Great, so we’ll start at square one, then.”
“Told you, I’m not qualified.”
His grin turned sideways, hand catching my chin and lifting my gaze to meet his. “Strike number one. Get to three, and there will be punishment.”
“Which rule did I break?”
“The rule where I say what you're qualified for, and you don’t ever talk down to one of my employees.”
“And what happens at strike three?”
His eyes slid up and down my body, lingering for a long time on the swell of my tits before catching mine again. “You get pierced.”