Page 4 of The Inkslinger

Since Skye started working as our receptionist, she has been running around the shop taking pictures of our work, using it to build a social media presence. I didn’t think much of it, but apparently her plan worked.

“You’re up, cousin,” Alistair says before grabbing Skye around the wrist and pulling her into the kitchen. “I want to know about you wanting to see a strange woman naked.” His words aren’t meant for us, but I hear them all the same.

He is insanely protective of her and is probably worried she is into girls. It would be hilarious to watch his head pop clean off if that was the truth. But we all know they only have eyes for each other even if neither of them has never said it out loud.

Looking at Hailey, I don’t know if I can do this. But I know that her wearing our ink could put us on the map. I haven’t been this nervous since I kissed my first girlfriend.

Taking a deep breath, I jump in with both feet. “Do you have anything specific in mind?”I’m a thirty-two-year-old, grown-ass man and I can handle this, I tell myself.

She smiles and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. So much for the damn pep talk.

“I like to give artists free rein. If you want, I can show you the virgin skin I have left, and you can start working on an idea. Skye said you have an opening on Friday.”

I nod. My tongue is glued to the top of my mouth, so I gesture toward my booth. Once inside I close the door, and Hailey doesn’t waste any time getting out of her clothes. She strips down to her pure white underwear but keeps those damn stilettos on. Her tattoos are even more vibrant against the pure white lace that barely contains her curves and does very little to keep her nipples hidden from my view.

When she takes a seat in my tattoo chair, a person can clearly see she is comfortable in this environment. She isn’t ashamed to show off her body, and most of the prime visible spots are taken.

“How much coverage do you have?” I ask.

“Something like sixty-five percent. Give or take. Some places just don’t need ink, you know?”

My gaze instantly falls on her perfect, uninked breasts, and I feel like an asshole. Circling around her to hide my shitty manners, I take the opportunity to adjust my erection.

“Where were you thinking?” I ask from behind her, trying to see where she could possibly want me to work.

“How about here?” Hailey spreads her thighs, flashing milky white, pristine skin and I almost swallow my tongue. Her fingers dance over her skin, showing me exactly how close to her pussy she wants me to work. Nodding, I try to keep the façade of professionalism going. Leaning in, I touch her skin.

It takes everything I have in me to not act like a damn teenager and stare at her barely covered sex, but all I want to do is run my nose along the crotch of her underwear. Fucking hell! How can this woman turn me inside out so quickly?

Fuck. She is so warm and soft. And she smells divine.

Get over yourself, I mentally admonish. This woman has had hundreds of artists’ hands on her skin, there isn’t anything sexual about this. Besides, she surely wouldn’t have any interest in a scarred-up nobody inkslinger like me. Taking a breath, I steady myself and pack my lust away for later when I am alone in the shower.

“I can do that,” I say, but my voice is husky, and I know she picks up on it when she smirks. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, and I should have a rough idea for you.”

“Thanks, Laine,” she says before hopping off the chair and giving me a hug, in her underwear. My damn head nearly explodes.

I don’t say a fucking word as I watch her get dressed before heading out of the shop, but my thoughts are dirtier than they have been in ages. How the fuck am I supposed to work on her?

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