Cain brought the finger that was just inside me to his mouth and licked it clean.
Damn, that was hot.
“I’m good, Rosie. Glad you texted me. I actually had someone cancel last minute and can take you tonight depending on what you’re wanting.”
“I was thinking a back piece of the night sky. Small stars, the moon, and whatever you want to add to it. We can start it today, and if needed, I’ll schedule the rest of it later.”
“Cool, cool. I have a couple hours, and can do that. Can you come now?”
My gaze moved to Cain, slightly disappointed we wouldn’t have time to have a quickie in my office.
“Yeah, now is good. I’ll be there soon.”
Ramon ended the call, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Hey, Indy, I’m headed out. I’ll be back late tonight. Call with any issues, okay?”
She was stacking clean glasses, getting ready to open. “Sure thing, boss! Have fun!”
I started walking toward my office, and Cain followed.
“I’m coming with you,” he informed me, as though I wasn’t already aware. We’d practically been inseparable these last few days.
“I know,” I quipped back. “How do you feel about driving?”
It’d been a while since I’d been on the back of his bike, and the thought of taking a ride with him was exhilarating. I missed it. The feeling of freedom that being on the back of his motorcycle had. The wind whipping through my hair. My tight grasp around his midsection as he sped us down the roads.
He pulled his motorcycle keys from his front pocket and spun them around his fingers with the keychain loop. With a wicked grin he said, “Thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
An hour and a half later,I was laying face down on a flattened tattoo chair with the needle from a tattoo gun scraping my flesh.
Ilivedfor this feeling—the addictive pain vibrating into my skin as my artist created something unique and beautiful.
Ramon had drawn up a stunning tattoo to fit across the width of my back, spanning across my shoulders. A dark black and gray rendition of the night sky glittered with shimmering stars and a crescent moon. He’d been practicing a glittering ink technique, and I was eager to see how he’d use it to make the stars come to life.
Cain sat on a leather stool next to me and watched Ramon create his magic. My hand sat in his lap, and I mindlessly drifted my fingers across his leg, listening to the loud music in the tattoo shop.
Only Ramon and one other guy were working tonight, and we practically had the shop to ourselves. Half walls separated the stations for privacy, and an antique wooden desk sat in the front. Art hung on the walls, all with small price tags under them, showing they were for sale.
I’d been coming to this shop, Inked Hypocrisy, for years now, and the only thing that's changed had been the art on the walls and a few of the other artists. What drew me in initially was the shop’s name, but what kept me coming back was the attention to detail that only Ramon could achieve.
When I first sat down in his chair and asked him why the hell the tattoo shop's name was Inked Hypocrisy, he chuckled and simply said the owner wanted to call out everyone who put on a façade. They tattooed clients who, on paper and on the surface, were sophisticated, and clean-cut professionals, but if you were to strip them down, you’d find the most salacious of tattoos inked into their skin.
Honestly, it made sense.
“It looks fucking amazing,” Cain mused, leaning closer to watch as Ramon shaded what I assumed was the moon.
He leaned closer, his lips dusting the shell of my ear. “I can’t wait to stare at it when I fuck you from behind.”
Ramon grunted, hearing him. “Should I add your name in there somewhere?” he teased.
“I willkillyou,” I threatened at the same time Cain laughed and told him, “I suggested earlier that she get my name, but she wasn’t in love with the idea.”
Ramon lifted the tattoo gun and wiped the spot he’d been working on with a paper towel. “I can’t imagine why.”
Another hour passed before Ramon finished. He stood and grabbed more paper towels, folding them, then spraying them with soapy solution, cleaning the excess ink and blood off my back.
“Alright, have a look.” He handed me a mirror, and I walked over to the full-length one hanging on the wall inside his station. From the reflection, I could see my tattoo.
