Page 138 of Make Me Dream of You

“I’m cleaning you up. And you haven’t come yet.”

“What about this morning in the shower?”

“I’ve always got to keep you an orgasm ahead, angel.”

“Oh.” She throws her head back, her legs falling open, and I get to work.

“Are you ready?” The wheels of the stool squeak as Livvy sidles up to me, and I hear the familiar snap of latex gloves as I lie face down on the black leather table.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you tattoo my ass.”

She giggles. “I’ve been practicing.” Then she gives my bare ass cheek—the one without the stencil on it—a little smack.

That reminds me. I snag my phone and hit Wood’s number, putting it on speaker.

It rings a couple times. “Sup, bruh,” Wood answers.

“Hey, I’m going to need you to log into your parents’ security system and erase the video from around noon to one o’clock today.”

“Did you have sex in the pool?”

Livvy snickers in the background.

“I can hear you, Livvy,” Wood says, the stern edge in his voice completely exaggerated. “I thought I told you to stop having sex in the pool.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He sighs. “Fine, but you owe me. Again.”

“Thanks, brother.” I end the call. “Ready when you are, angel.”

Livvy inhales then exhales slowly. It’s her first tattoo on a person. For all I know, it might be her last tattoo, too. She’s been spending less and less time at the shop, and more time at home painting. She’s got paintings up at seven stores now, and they keep selling. And I couldn’t be happier about it. Or any fucking prouder.

“Don’t be nervous. You’ll do great. Besides, it’s just my ass. You’re the only person who’s ever going to see it. Maybe Wood if he catches me bending you over in the kitchen again.”

I can’t help it. She keeps sexting me during the middle of the day until I’m so needy I have to sneak up for a quickie between appointments. She knows I have a weakness for her dirty texts.

“He scrubbed the counter for half an hour after that.” She laughs. “Thanks, I am a little nervous. But not about the tattoo, about something else. Something I need to tell you.”

“What do you need to tell me?” I start to roll over, but she pushes my hip back down and smacks my butt again.

“Hold still or you’re going to have wobbly lines.”

The loud buzz of the tattoo gun drowns out any other sound and then her hand is holding my ass cheek still and taut.

The first contact of the needle with skin is always the most jarring. It’s been a while for me, but the memories rush back and it’s familiar again. Almost comforting. Still hurts like a motherfucker, though.

She pulls a line, then wipes. Another line. Wipe. She’s gentle, not too heavy-handed, slow and steady. After a few more wipes, she pauses the machine.

“You waited until I couldn’t move to tell me on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” she says innocently. “It’s not that big of deal, I just didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else. Don’t be mad, okay?”

Oh fuck. I chuckle. “What is it?”

She hesitates and I’m suddenly sweating.

“I texted Anthony the other day.”

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