Page 3 of Marked By the Possessive Biker

I take a huge step backward, and only then can I breathe normally. “At one time, I would have agreed with you. Now I know better. I’m not interested in being your plaything.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I know I can’t stand here under his glare a second longer. “Bye, Boss.”

I turn on my heel and practically run from him. It’s not until I’m back inside that I start to rethink everything. Am I going to regret walking away from him? I haven’t been able to get him off my mind, and maybe I need to have sex with him just so I can forget about him. I lied when I said I moved on because how does someone move on from a man like Ben Dalton? Heck, we danced, but we never kissed or anything. Why and how does he still have this hold on me?

“Are you okay? What did he want?”

I’d forgotten that Carl was waiting for me, and he was probably peeking through the windows to see what was going on. “Nothing. He was here to see someone else.” I lie to him because I don’t really want to get into it with Carl. He’s a new study partner that is part of a group in class. There are no feelings between us, at least for me.

“If he’s bothering you….” Carl starts but then trails off. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but he surely doesn’t believe he’s any match for Boss. I appreciate the thought, but there’s no way I would put Carl in the path of him.

“No, he’s not. He’s fine. Should we get started?”

I gesture to the study room that our group is already getting set up in. Carl opens the door for me, and I sit at the chair that has my stuff. I’m opening my text book, pulling out my pen and paper to get ready, but my thoughts go to Boss and that first night I met him.

I was with my best friend, Tara and her then boyfriend, Grant. Grant wanted to take her to meet his brother, and I tagged along. I thought we were getting dinner or something at Red’s Diner in town. I had no idea we’d be going to some motorcycle clubhouse. Thinking back, it’s obvious we didn’t belong, but everyone was nice enough. Some nicer than others.

As soon as Grant introduced us to his brother, Boss, he stayed with us the whole night. At first, I wondered if I was imagining things or if there really was something happening between him and me. I felt his glances, the way his thigh brushed mine at the table we were sitting at.

He was completely focused on me, asking me questions one right after another. And when he asked me to dance, I thought I might melt right there on the dance floor. I wanted him to kiss me more than anything, but we were interrupted by one of the guys, and then he disappeared for the rest of the night. I couldn’t get him out of my head, and I was stupidly naïve when I showed up to Heat & Ink to see him.

Big mistake. Huge.

He was tattooing some woman, and right in front of her he told me that he didn’t want me chasing him and that he didn’t fuck virgins. It was mortifying to say the least, and I left there without a second glance. Since then, I’ve tried to push Boss out of my head, but I can’t forget the way he made me feel in his arms that first night. I could have talked to him for hours if I’d had a chance, and I really felt like there was a connection. I was so naïve.

“Lexi… what do you think?” Chelsey, one of the girls in the group, asks.

I look up, and I have four pairs of eyes staring at me, waiting for a response. “Uh, I’m sorry. I was reading the passage. What was the question again?”

For the remainder of the study session, I try to stay focused, but my mind keeps trailing back to Boss. I should have let him kiss me. Maybe then I could have gotten him out of my system.

3

BOSS

The blaring music and the sound of the tattoo gun keep me focused. I finish the dainty butterfly with a scowl. It’s not my favorite kind of piece to do, but it helps pay the bills.

Heat & Ink in Whiskey Run has a different clientele. Most of our work is done on club members or from the mercenaries that work in the compound across the street from us. We get some townie locals, and every now and then, we get college students that either wind up at the wrong place or the girls are looking to hook up with a biker. My current client is the latter.

I wipe at her skin and then back away from the chair. “Take a look, Charlotte.”

She leans up, not even trying to hide her cunt from me. She wanted a butterfly on her hip, and she got naked before I could tell her it wasn’t necessary. I tried draping a cloth over her, but she kept letting it slip away. I was determined to get her tattoo done and get her the hell out of here.

She giggles. “Oh, it’s perfect. Thank you, Boss.”

I make quick work of covering it with an ink sack, anxious to get her out of here. “Welcome. You can pay at the front.”

I turn my back to her and start cleaning up my work station. I’m hoping that Charlotte will leave, but it’s only a second that goes by and I feel her pressed against my side. “I can pay out front, but what about my tip? I want to give it to you personally.”

I blow out a breath and take a step back as I turn to face her. I know exactly what kind of tip she’s offering, and a few months ago, I may have taken her up on it, but I have absolutely no interest in anything she’s offering me now. She’s standing before me in nothing but a T-shirt because her skirt and panties are tossed on the tattoo bed.

The door to my tattoo station is wide open, and anyone can walk by or in and see her. Normally, nudity doesn’t bother me, but Charlotte is not the woman that is at the forefront of my mind, and she’s definitely not who I want naked. She reaches for me, and I grab her wrist, stopping her before she touches me. “I don’t want your tip. You can pay up front.”

She gasps in surprise, and then her face twists in anger. She jerks from my hold and then stalks over to where her clothes are. Grabbing them, she walks out, naked from the waist down, and I lean against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest.

Fuck. Everyone here is used to nudity, but I already know I’m going to get some shit about this.

I don’t have to wait long because Gunner walks in, shaking his head. “Your last customer seemed less than satisfied.”

---