Page 4 of Submitting to Slade

She gawks all around as we navigate the shop toward the back. I'm guessing she's never been inside a tattoo shop before. She stops a few times to look at some of the artwork on the walls. A pretty blush climbs up her cheeks when she realizes the piece of art she's looking at is a couple fucking. She quickly averts her gaze, nearly tripping over the edge of a plush gray sofa in the waiting area.

"Careful, Who." I slip my arm around her waist, tucking her up against my larger frame to steady her. She fits against me like a puzzle piece, her soft curves nestling into my hard body.

"A person is a person no matter how small," she gasps.

"What?"

"The book. T-that's what it says."

Fuck. Yeah. I forgot all about the damn book.

"Short but mighty," I mutter, leading her the rest of the way to my booth.

"More like short but flighty," she snorts after a moment, regaining her equilibrium.

I stop in the doorway to my booth, glancing down at her. "Who says that shit about you?"

"Um, everyone?" She shrugs, peeking up at me. "I'm kind of a mess, but I'm used to it."

I don't say anything as we step inside the booth. She gawks around her again, taking in my setup. It's fucking nice. I spared no expense on this place. When you're inking billionaires, you can't afford to cheap out. Everything is state of the art.

Black tile floors and red brick walls give the place a stately vibe, as if we're deep in some mansion. Artwork hangs on the walls between recessed floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the town. A sofa rests against the far wall for guests. My chair sits in the middle of the floor, with my tools in cabinets and on shelves around the rest of the room. The entrance to the private bathroom is beside the sofa.

"Wow," Skye whispers. "This doesn't look at all like I thought it would."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. Neon and dragons and stuff, I guess."

"You should see Keegan's booth then." I chuckle. "He's got a little of all three."

"Really?" Her eyes light up. "I knew it!"

I shake my head, smiling. "First tattoo, huh?"

"Twentieth."

I shoot her a look that makes her giggle.

"Yes, it's my first. Is it that obvious?"

"I'll make your first time good," I promise, which has her blushing bright red. Interesting. I think my little Who might be a virgin in more ways than one. Fuck me. Why do I like that thought so much? She definitely isn't ready for any of the shit I want to do to her—and there's a whole fucking lot I'd like to do to her about now—but the fact that no one has touched her before isn't turning me off. It's only making my dick harder.

She'd run screaming into the night if she knew that I want her bent over my knee with that little dress flipped up while I spank her ass raw with one hand and finger her asshole with the other. She'd probably faint if she knew I want her to crawl across the floor to me with nothing but nipple clamps on, begging to suck my fucking cock.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter to myself, fumbling the bottles of ink on my table as that very image pops into my head. I shove it to the back of my mind, slamming a door closed on it. Now isn't the time, and she isn't the one, as much as I'd like her to be. She's a pretty little virgin, too sweet and pure for the filthy shit I want from her.

"Are you ready, Who?"

"Yes, sir."

Ah, goddammit.

I bite my cheek hard enough to draw blood.

"Sit in the chair while I sketch something up for you," I order, quickly grabbing my sketchbook.

She drops down onto the seat like an obedient little toy, and cum shoots into my boxers.

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