Page 11 of Covert
He wipes away extra ink a little too aggressively. Yeah, something is going on there.
"What's the point? She won't last."
"You sure about that? Seems to me she's fitting in just fine. Scar's taken a liking to her," I reply, nodding back over to where Nikki has her head tilted back in a full-belly laugh.
Another aggressive wipe. Alright, I should rein it in before I get a penis tatted on my forearm.
The rest of the appointment is quick. When Saints and Sinners got together in the sixties, there wasn't a ton of creativity for a logo. Graphic design wasn't a thing. A skull with wings on the sides, with the words Saints and Sinners underneath and a few stars above the skull representing the afterlife, we can all expect to find sooner rather than later.
When he's finished, he sprays it down, wipes it one last time, and then lets me examine it. It's the same tat that dozens of my brothers have, and it's more symbolic than artistic, so I don't really care what it looks like. I'm just eager to get back into Nikki's orbit.
I go to stand with an easy 'thanks, man,' when a large hand lands on my shoulder, pushing me back into the chair. Maddox levels me with a deathly glare.
"I fucking mean it. Leave her alone." His voice is low and for my ears only, but it doesn't make me want to hit him any less.
I wiggle out of his grasp and hip-check his rolling chair as I stand, issuing my own warning.
When I round the half-wall, I catch Nikki's eye again.
"Let me see," she says easily, reaching out and touching my forearm at the wrist and elbow so she can twist it and admire the new ink. Her touch is like fire, and I yearn to feel her hands all over my body. I stand there, stupidly, my tongue suddenly too big for my mouth as I imagine those tiny hands on my chest while she rides me, or on my shoulders while I drive into her, or on my cock as she brings it to her mouth.
Holy fuck. I've never been this gone for a woman before.
"He didn't wrap it?" she asks, looking up at me questioningly.
I still can't speak, so I only shake my head.
Scar picks up on the tension radiating from the back room, but Nikki's already on her feet. She reaches into a small supply closet in the corner and brings out some plastic wrap. She places my forearm on her table, likely smudging it with my sweat, and tenderly wraps my arm. The way she's leaning over me, though, my fingers are inchesfrom her chest, and I hold my breath. I could just flick out a finger and trace the swell of her breasts.
Scar chuckles softly next to me, too shrewd not to be aware of my current predicament. The temptation gnaws at me.
Somehow, I manage to resist until she's finished.
"I assume you know tattoo care?" she says to Scar, cleaning up the plastic backing.
"Yes, ma'am."
Ma'am? My head whips to the side. Excuse the fuck out of me. Did the Pres of Saints and Sinners just call this little girl ma'am? What the hell did they talk about while I was back there?
"How much?" I ask, still completely stunned, as I fish my worn wallet out of my back pocket.
She returns to the computer and sits on the stool, but hesitates, looking between me and the computer.
"You know what? My first paycheck's burning a hole in my pocket. How about this one's on me? As a patching present."
My fingers pause, thumbing through the bills in my wallet, and I look up at her numbly.
"I... I can't... I can't let you do that," I reply almost breathlessly.
Her returning smile sets my chest on fire.
"Guess you don't really have a choice, do you?"
Before I can lunge for her to stop her, she slides her wallet out, covered in foxes, and slides the bills in the till before closing it and locking it again, smiling victoriously the entire time.
Scar nudges me out of my stupor and nods to her, widening his eyes with meaning.
"Uh... we're having a party tomorrow to celebrate. Would you like to come? I can pay you back in beer and food?"
