Page 2 of Shattered

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” she says, her back still to me.

“Yeah, there’s a great idea,” I say, my voice thick with sarcasm.

While I spray and wipe down my table, Raven approaches. The smell of her perfume invades my nose, tempting me.

“Raven,” I warn her.

“What?” She presses her palms against the edge of the table. There she leans in, her large breasts popping out of her low-cut crop top less than a foot away from my face.

“Do not start that shit with me. Do you think I’m stupid enough to fuck my boss’s wife?”

“Probably.”

I roll my eyes, turning my back on her so I can finish wiping down the rest of my station. She leans against it, putting her hands on my table.

“Raven, can you stop touching all my shit?”

“If you start touching mine.”

I shake my head angrily, feeling my blood begin to boil. “Go fuck your husband if you’re that desperate.”

“Come on, Asher, you know he’s a prick.”

“Then leave him. Don’t put me in the middle.”

“If you think I can leave him, you’re having a laugh.”

“What does that even mean?”

She steps around my table, closing the distance between us. Then she sits up on my tattoo table, opening her legs.

Jesus fucking christ.

She has crotchless fucking pants on. There’s a huge hole opening up her cunt like a Christmas present. I can feel my cock growing in my pants, and her brows wiggle when she notices the bulge.

“Please, Asher. I need something good.”

She pleads with those fuck me eyes that go straight to my cock. God, it’s been too long. The longer I stare at her cunt, I weigh the pros and cons. If Rocco finds out, he’ll kick my ass or worse.

But right now, with my busted leg, some part of me doesn’t give a fuck.

I glance around, finding all the blinds are shut, and I can see the door is locked.

“Why me? You’ve never shown any interest in me before; why now?”

“You’re here, and don’t treat me like garbage.”

“Really? That’s the bar?” I ask. I wouldn’t even say I treat her with kindness, only basic human decency, because her husband’s always around. Of course, anyone who doesn’t physically beat her is probably better than them in her eyes.

“That’s the bar when you’re in hell,” Raven says.

My resolve weans more and more each minute. “There’s no cameras in here?”

“Not inside,” she says wickedly.

I shouldn’t do this. But I’m horny as fuck, and Raven might be the only woman in the world to not care about my leg. I know she knows; she’s always here, and I can’t hide the limp when I get up after hours of tattooing. Still, she’s never commented on it.

“Come on… Let me start with your cock,” she pleads.

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