Page 30 of Christmas with Four Tattoo Artists

“You know it.” I reached over and grabbed her little round ass through the short, black tennis skirt she had on, a squeal of surprised delight sounding from her. She turned, the two of us stopping and gazing into one another’s eyes. I chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Trust me, gorgeous, with you around, I don't think I'll ever run out."

We were alone in the shop, the last staff member having clocked out what felt like a lifetime ago. The quiet around us was punctuated by our shared laughter and flirtatious banter, the camaraderie between us making the empty shop seem less lonely.

“Where are the rest of the guys tonight?” she asked, hopping up onto her desk, a flash of her black lacy panties visible as she crossed her legs. God, I’d come only a few minutes ago and already she was making me want more.

“Kai and Finn are with their pops,” I said. “James is on duty.”

“That means I’ve got you all to myself,” she said, a devilish little grin forming on her lips. “That is, if you want that.”

I stepped over, my cock hard again and straining the denim of my jeans. I grabbed her hips, inching up her tennis skirt and revealing those luscious thighs. “You even need to ask?”

She grinned, biting down on her lower lip as I ground my hard-on into her pussy through her panties. “Maybe we should take this back to your place, then.” Julia flicked her eyes up at the security camera in the corner of the reception area. “Where we’re not being recorded.”

I chuckled. “Good call. Why don’t we—”

VROOM, VROOM.

The echo of the motorcycle engines rumbling down the street cut me off from finishing my sentence. A series of guttural roars echoed through the silent street, growing louder and more menacing with every passing second. My heart clenched at the sight of five bikes pulling up in front of the shop. I recognized the emblem on their jackets immediately—Crimson Devils.

A sudden rush of adrenaline surged through me as I took in the familiar faces. These weren’t just bikers looking for late-night tattoos; these were men looking for trouble.

I'd forgotten to lock the door in the aftermath of our passionate rendezvous, an oversight that suddenly seemed all too costly. The men dismounted, the gruff sound of boots hitting pavement sending chills down my spine. Their swaggering entrance was an ominous sign, and I couldn't ignore the knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

"Julia," I barked, my eyes never leaving the gang of bikers making their way towards us. "Go to the office and lock the door. Now."

“But—”

“Now.”

I saw a flicker of fear cross her face, but she nodded, wasting no time following my orders. I felt a surge of relief as she disappeared behind the office door, leaving me to deal with the imminent threat.

My adrenaline-fueled heart pounded in my chest. As the men approached, I steeled myself for whatever was coming. Despite my simmering anger at their intrusion, a part of me was calm and centered. Julia was safe, hidden away from the potential danger.

My heart pounded with the rhythm of a tribal drum, echoing in the silence as the bikers stepped further into the shop. "We’re closed," I said, squaring my shoulders and standing up straight, unyielding in front of the intruders.

The leader of the pack, a burly brute with a scar marring his rough face, sneered. "Door wasn’t locked," he drawled, his gaze slowly traveling around the place, eyeing our studio as if it was already theirs. "Nice spot you got here."

The words were spoken casually, but they carried the weight of an unspoken threat. The rest of the Devils snickered, their amusement echoing unpleasantly off the walls, amplifying the tension.

"Klaus sends his regards, by the way,” another of the Devils chimed in, a nasty grin splitting his face. "Heard this place is gonna be his soon."

I felt a rush of anger at his words, my fists curling at my sides. "Over my dead body," I hissed, shooting him a look that I hoped conveyed my full meaning.

I fought to keep my composure, to not let them see the rage bubbling inside me. "Get out," I growled, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. "You've seen enough."

Their laughter filled the shop. "Don't worry, we'll be seeing a lot more of this place soon," one of the Devils promised, his gaze filled with dark satisfaction.

They didn’t get a chance to say anything more. Thewhoopof a police siren filled the air, and seconds later a Miami PD squad car pulled to a stop next to the Devils’ bikes.

It was then that the distinctive figure of James stepped out from the patrol car, his partner Carlos Diaz, a muscular, imposing figure with eyes that missed nothing, following suit. The glare in James' eyes sent a silent but unmissable message to the Crimson Devils. The shop was our territory, and they were not welcome there.

The looks on the faces of the Devils made it clear that their fun was over.

"Shame we can't stay longer. It's been a real pleasure." the Devils squad leader snarled as his eyes flicked over to the advancing figures of James and his partner.

"Next time, don't bother coming at all," I spat, venom on my words, feeling a wave of relief wash over me as the flashing blue and red of the cruiser’s lights lit up the shop.

James and Carlos made their way toward the entrance with slow, authoritative strides.

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