Page 12 of Sunshine & Ink

When he had raised me to my feet, with unsteady wobbling legs, he zipped his big cock up and headed for the door.

“You’ll come into the tattoo shop with me soon,” he said. “I want to get some pieces started on you.”

“Pieces?” I asked curiously, wetting my lips.

And now I could get water, as much of it as I wanted, from Raker’s own cooler in the corner, water withiceeven!

“Yes,” Raker said. “I’ll do my mark first.”

“Your mark?” I asked curiously.

My mouth felt sore, but in a delicious sort of way, like a pleasurable ache.

“That’s right,” he said, a corner of his harsh mouth tipped up. “So everyone can see at a glance that you belong to the Saints. To me.”

CHAPTER 4

Sunni

You belong to me!

The power of those words rolled over me.

Could he really mean it?

The next morning, his words were still running through my head. After I bathed, I lay down on the bed again. I’d never felt anything so soft and inviting. My bed back in my old apartment before I had gotten evicted was lumpy, with springs missing, and a weird smell when the desert winds changed.

I had been right. Raker wasn’t the kind of man to let me bathe in filth, and I had washed slowly in the heated water, watching in delight at the decadence of having enough water to make soapy bubbles with.

The unexpected luxury of my situation made my head spin.

Raker might be a hard man, but maybe no one knew how kind he really was?

Romantic visions of things Raker could say to me filled my mind, and I was trying to tamp down my fantasies when I heard a knock on the door, and I opened it to two other Saints club girls.

“Time for morning devotions,” the red-haired one said cheerfully.

I flushed to be caught so obviously half-naked and recently fucked, but I knew it was something I would have to get used to as I reached into my duffel bag for yoga pants and some flip-flops.

The fabric of my T-shirt was threadbare, and I covered up a little hole self-consciously.

“I’m Amira,” the taller woman said. She was a few years older than me, a tall, beautiful Black woman with soft dark brown skin and box braids.

“And you don’t have to worry aboutthat,” the other woman added, pointing right to the hole in my shirt I was trying to hide. “You’ll get an all-new wardrobe, especially if you’re Raker’s favorite.”

I tried to keep the huge grin from spreading across my face.

Raker’sfavorite! Was I really?

She was tall too, with pale alabaster skin, long bright red hair, a lightly freckled face, and sapphire blue eyes.

“I’ve never seen Raker have someone in his room before,” she went on eagerly. “Won’t Angel be mad, though! She always thoughtshewas Raker’s favorite, butAngelnever gets to sleep in hisbed!”

“We don’t want to be late,” Amira interrupted firmly. “You know Apostle doesn’t like it if we’re late for his sermons. And you forgot to introduce yourself.”

“Oh, right! I’m Bridget.”

Amira was clearly the calm, sensible one, and Bridget the chatty, friendly one.

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