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The sound of the tattoo machine whirred in the enclosed space of my station. It was close to eleven at night, and all the lights were cut in the shop other than the bright one that hung low from the ceiling to illuminate the area.
I was working the most gorgeous piece I’d ever done.
I might have been biased, but I didn’t give a fuck.
The tattoo chair had been adjusted so Charleigh could sit straddling it, wrapped around the leather with her cheek rested on the headrest.
I was sitting low on my stool so I could get to her lower back where I was doing the fourth session of her tattoo.
A piece that covered the scars that bastard hadcarved onto her lower back. Eradicating him the way I’d promised her I would. Covering her in beauty rather than the atrocity he’d intended.
It was a forest scene, an innuendo of Moonlit Ridge, though we’d taken some liberties to make it our own.
Trees rising up around the lake.
But this one…this one had a river running through.
She’d said we were the current that had led her here, and she believed she’d ridden on our energy that had called her to this small town. Hidden in the torrent was the silhouette of a blue puppy…stretched out and riding through the waves.
She flinched when I swept the needle over the ridge of her spine where I was adding a teal blue shading.
Could tell she was trying to hold her breath. Doing her best to ignore the burn that erupted on her skin as I marked her deep. Cutting into the lines and filling it with ink.
She squirmed and whimpered, and fuck me, my dick strained.
That first night when I’d tattooed her, I’d chalked the reaction I had to her up to me being a twisted fiend. Hungering for something I should never take.
I’d loved that I had been the one to etch her permanently. Loved that she had been going to walk out of my shop and forever carry a piece of me.
What I hadn’t known was this woman was the one who would permanently etch herself on me.
The one who would change everything.
The one who was going to take my guilt and shame and knit it back into love.
I edged back, and I wiped up the excess ink and the bit of blood with the towel before I leaned in and blew across the heated skin to give her some relief. Didn’t feel I was crossing a line that time.
Not when the Little Runner was mine.
“How you holding up over there?” I rumbled as I kept brushing the needle over her flesh that bloomed pink.
“I’m great.” It was all kinds of breathy.
A rough chuckle rolled out of me. “Great, huh?”
She shifted to look back at me from over her shoulder. The cinnamon flecks in her eyes flamed. “Any time I’m with you, I’m great.”
“That so?”
“Mm-hmm.” There was a coyness to it. The girl playing nothing but temptation and a tease.
“If this is great, then I can’t imagine just how good you feel when I’m tryin’ for it.” I let the suggestion wind into my tone.
A raspy laugh escaped her. “Now that is something else entirely.”
“Only thing I want…to give you pleasure.” I said it as I finished up the last few passes I needed to make. I set my tools aside and ripped off my black rubber gloves, then I eased back, inspecting my work.
Pride gripped me by the chest.
