Wicked Beat
Page 84
“Sorry. I’ll try to come up with smarter jokes from now on. The stupid ones are all yours.”
“This is why we work,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Compromise.”
“I thought it was the great sex.”
Her flippant comment elicited several stares from nearby tables.
“Well, there’s that too,” Eric said.
After dinner, they walked across the parking lot to the mall. They found the jewelry store, but when they arrived the metal gate was down, and the lights were off.
Rebekah’s heart sank with disappointment. “Closed? How can it be closed? What time is it?”
“It’s after eight,” Eric said.
“Why is it so late?”
Eric lifted his eyebrows.
She made a sound of annoyance. “Of all the days for Isaac to come out of the closet.” She gazed into a display window with longing. Not because she really wanted a ring, but because she wanted the world to see proof that she’d given her heart to Eric. “These are all too girly anyway,” she said, trying to make herself feel better about having to wait at least another day.
Eric chuckled and wrapped an arm around her back to direct her to the parking lot again.
“There’s probably someplace still open that’s more suitable to brand you as mine,” he whispered into her ear.
“Yeah, a tattoo parlor,” she said with an unladylike snort. Once the idea took hold, she grew excited. “Eric!” She grabbed his forearm and stopped walking abruptly. “I want your name as my tramp stamp.” She lifted the back of her shirt and pointed to her lower back. “Right there. Your name and music notes on either side. Maybe some little butterflies.”
“Are you serious, Reb? That’s permanent, you know.”
“I know. You don’t want me to?” She traced a tattoo on his forearm with one finger. It showed a dagger through a skull. It was a beautiful piece of art, but masculine. “Would you rather I get one that matches yours?”
“I would love my name permanently etched on your sexy little back. I could stare at it while…” He lifted her shirt and took a peek at the area in question. “Damn…” he said breathlessly and gave himself a little shake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
He scooped her into his arms, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed toward his car.
“Right now?”
“Yep. And I’m going to get your name tattooed down the length of my cock.”
“You are not!”
“Yeah, I am.”
She wondered if her name would get bigger when he was hard. She wondered about something else. “How long does it take for a tattoo to heal?”
“Several weeks.”
“Then you won’t be able to have sex for several weeks.”
“You’re right. Forget that then. Where do you want your name?”
She thought for a moment. What was the sexiest part of Eric’s body, besides his cock? That sweet V-shape at his lower belly that disappeared into the waistband of his underwear. That’s where she wanted her name. Then when he held her back against his belly, their names would press together.
“Put me down,” she said. “Let me show you where I want it.”
He gently set her on her feet, and she lifted his T-shirt in front. She pushed the waistband of his jeans lower and traced a swath of bare skin above his underwear. “I want it right here.”
He drew a breath through his teeth. “That is going to hurt.”
“More than it would on your cock?”
He chuckled. “Good point.” He hurried her to the car and opened the door for her. “I know a great artist. He’s done all my ink and the smiley-faced flower on the top of Jace’s foot.”
“Jace has a flower on his foot?”
“Yeah, I got him really drunk. Let’s just say his judgment was impaired. Usually, they won’t tattoo someone when they’re that inebriated, but I’ve known Butch for years. And Jace said it was okay before he passed out. We both got our ni**les pierced that night too.”
“Kind of like when girls get their nails done together.”
He looked grievously offended by that comparison. “Uh, no.”
She laughed. “If you say so.”
Eric headed out of the parking lot and drove toward the coast. “As excited as I was to get you a ring, I’m even more excited by the thought of my name tattooed on your skin.”
She smiled. “Me too. My mother is going to hate it.”
Eric’s face fell. “Is that what this is about? Revenge on your mother?”
“Of course not.”
The tattoo parlor was in a quaint strip of old stores a few blocks from the ocean. A cool breeze blew onshore. Rebekah wished she’d brought a sweater. Eric fed a parking meter with quarters while Rebekah waited. He grabbed her hand and led her into The Ink Well—a shady establishment at best. A man, tattooed from neck to toe, looked up from the tattoo he was inking on some guy’s chest.
“Yo, Sticks. Back for more?” the artist called.
“You know I can’t get enough.”
“Who’s the pretty lady?”
“My girlfriend, em…” He glanced at Rebekah. “Fiancée? Can I call you that?” he whispered.
“Do you see a ring on this finger?” She shook her bare, left hand in front of his face.
He sighed. “Still my girlfriend,” he said. “She wants my name tattooed…” He turned her around and lifted her shirt, running a finger along her lower back. “… right there.” He then rubbed his lower belly. “And I want hers right here. Can you squeeze us in right now?”
“Yeah, I’m almost done here.” Butch dabbed the guy’s chest with a towel, removing dots of something red from his skin.
Rebekah winced when she realized the guy under the needle was bleeding.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered to Eric.
“Yeah. In a strange way, it feels good too. Like, you know that itch you can never scratch enough? This scratches it. Do you want me to go first?”
She shook her head. “If I wait, I might chicken out.”
“You’re sure you want this done?”
She looked at him, her heart fluttery with emotions. “Yeah.”
When it was Rebekah’s turn to go under the needle, she explained her vision to the artist, Butch.
“Just his first name? Or first and last?” Butch asked.
“This is why we work,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Compromise.”
“I thought it was the great sex.”
Her flippant comment elicited several stares from nearby tables.
“Well, there’s that too,” Eric said.
After dinner, they walked across the parking lot to the mall. They found the jewelry store, but when they arrived the metal gate was down, and the lights were off.
Rebekah’s heart sank with disappointment. “Closed? How can it be closed? What time is it?”
“It’s after eight,” Eric said.
“Why is it so late?”
Eric lifted his eyebrows.
She made a sound of annoyance. “Of all the days for Isaac to come out of the closet.” She gazed into a display window with longing. Not because she really wanted a ring, but because she wanted the world to see proof that she’d given her heart to Eric. “These are all too girly anyway,” she said, trying to make herself feel better about having to wait at least another day.
Eric chuckled and wrapped an arm around her back to direct her to the parking lot again.
“There’s probably someplace still open that’s more suitable to brand you as mine,” he whispered into her ear.
“Yeah, a tattoo parlor,” she said with an unladylike snort. Once the idea took hold, she grew excited. “Eric!” She grabbed his forearm and stopped walking abruptly. “I want your name as my tramp stamp.” She lifted the back of her shirt and pointed to her lower back. “Right there. Your name and music notes on either side. Maybe some little butterflies.”
“Are you serious, Reb? That’s permanent, you know.”
“I know. You don’t want me to?” She traced a tattoo on his forearm with one finger. It showed a dagger through a skull. It was a beautiful piece of art, but masculine. “Would you rather I get one that matches yours?”
“I would love my name permanently etched on your sexy little back. I could stare at it while…” He lifted her shirt and took a peek at the area in question. “Damn…” he said breathlessly and gave himself a little shake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
He scooped her into his arms, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed toward his car.
“Right now?”
“Yep. And I’m going to get your name tattooed down the length of my cock.”
“You are not!”
“Yeah, I am.”
She wondered if her name would get bigger when he was hard. She wondered about something else. “How long does it take for a tattoo to heal?”
“Several weeks.”
“Then you won’t be able to have sex for several weeks.”
“You’re right. Forget that then. Where do you want your name?”
She thought for a moment. What was the sexiest part of Eric’s body, besides his cock? That sweet V-shape at his lower belly that disappeared into the waistband of his underwear. That’s where she wanted her name. Then when he held her back against his belly, their names would press together.
“Put me down,” she said. “Let me show you where I want it.”
He gently set her on her feet, and she lifted his T-shirt in front. She pushed the waistband of his jeans lower and traced a swath of bare skin above his underwear. “I want it right here.”
He drew a breath through his teeth. “That is going to hurt.”
“More than it would on your cock?”
He chuckled. “Good point.” He hurried her to the car and opened the door for her. “I know a great artist. He’s done all my ink and the smiley-faced flower on the top of Jace’s foot.”
“Jace has a flower on his foot?”
“Yeah, I got him really drunk. Let’s just say his judgment was impaired. Usually, they won’t tattoo someone when they’re that inebriated, but I’ve known Butch for years. And Jace said it was okay before he passed out. We both got our ni**les pierced that night too.”
“Kind of like when girls get their nails done together.”
He looked grievously offended by that comparison. “Uh, no.”
She laughed. “If you say so.”
Eric headed out of the parking lot and drove toward the coast. “As excited as I was to get you a ring, I’m even more excited by the thought of my name tattooed on your skin.”
She smiled. “Me too. My mother is going to hate it.”
Eric’s face fell. “Is that what this is about? Revenge on your mother?”
“Of course not.”
The tattoo parlor was in a quaint strip of old stores a few blocks from the ocean. A cool breeze blew onshore. Rebekah wished she’d brought a sweater. Eric fed a parking meter with quarters while Rebekah waited. He grabbed her hand and led her into The Ink Well—a shady establishment at best. A man, tattooed from neck to toe, looked up from the tattoo he was inking on some guy’s chest.
“Yo, Sticks. Back for more?” the artist called.
“You know I can’t get enough.”
“Who’s the pretty lady?”
“My girlfriend, em…” He glanced at Rebekah. “Fiancée? Can I call you that?” he whispered.
“Do you see a ring on this finger?” She shook her bare, left hand in front of his face.
He sighed. “Still my girlfriend,” he said. “She wants my name tattooed…” He turned her around and lifted her shirt, running a finger along her lower back. “… right there.” He then rubbed his lower belly. “And I want hers right here. Can you squeeze us in right now?”
“Yeah, I’m almost done here.” Butch dabbed the guy’s chest with a towel, removing dots of something red from his skin.
Rebekah winced when she realized the guy under the needle was bleeding.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered to Eric.
“Yeah. In a strange way, it feels good too. Like, you know that itch you can never scratch enough? This scratches it. Do you want me to go first?”
She shook her head. “If I wait, I might chicken out.”
“You’re sure you want this done?”
She looked at him, her heart fluttery with emotions. “Yeah.”
When it was Rebekah’s turn to go under the needle, she explained her vision to the artist, Butch.
“Just his first name? Or first and last?” Butch asked.
