Page 37 of X's and O's
“It’s not getting any use here. It’s just in the way. You’d be doing me a favor, to be honest. Give it here, I’ll show you how to use it while Boyd puts his big-boy panties on.”
Boyd gave him the middle finger and grinned. Daxsniggered as he set the machine up and showed me how to use it. He loaded the box up with inks and synthetic skin.
“Practice on that before you go tattooing anyone, yeah?”
I stared at the pile he’d made in my arms. It was too much. “I can’t accept this,” I practically whispered to him.
He added some wipes to the top of the pile. “Actually, man, yeah. You can. You think I willingly tattoo other people’s designs very often? And if I do, do you think I don’t need to change them up so it’s even possible?”
I couldn’t say I’d ever thought about it.
But Dax clearly had a point to make. “I just put your design straight on his skin without a single adjustment, other than his wife’s name. You’re good, Levi. You’re really fucking good. You’re already better than half the artists I’ve had walk through these doors. At least at drawing. You just need to learn how to get your designs on someone’s skin.” He shoved the box full of tattoo supplies at me again. “So go practice.”
It was fucking ridiculous, but a lump wedged in my throat.
I couldn’t remember anyone ever encouraging me to be something more than a Saint View biker thug.
Except Violet. And I’d lost her before I’d even had her.
I didn’t want to lose Dax’s respect in the same way. So I nodded, taking the supplies, with a promise I’d pay him back.
He went back to Boyd’s tattoo, and Boyd went back to wailing, but I walked back to the halfway house.
In my room, I pulled the crumpled violet out of the trash can and straightened it out.
With everything I’d lost tonight fresh in my head, I freehanded the design onto my skin.
I loaded the machine, and then ignoring Dax’s advice, I traced the lines with permanent ink, each drive of the needle into my flesh another reminder that she was never going to be mine.
But her name over my heart was.
10
WHIP
The woman on her knees in front of me was all teeth, and I was dying.
I winced, not for the first time, as her husband jerked backward, swearing beneath his breath and clutching his cock.
“Jesus, Fiona. You’re like a piranha.”
She sat back on her heels and stared up at me unhappily. “I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”
Clearly, yes. Being compared to a piranha while giving head was not exactly a compliment.
I got down beside her. “No. You’re not. You’re just inexperienced, and everyone sucks at this until they have some guidance.”
No pun intended.
“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I tried watching porn, but the women just looked like they were choking. There was no pleasure in it.”
Yeah, no shit.
I stared up at the woman’s husband. I hadn’t evenbothered remembering his name. “You gonna punch me in the face if I suck your cock and show her how?”
He blinked, recoiling. “Uh…”
I waited. Because I knew what his answer was going to be. It was pretty rare for me to take on a client who actually said no.
