You tapped your foot nervously against the black tile. Your teeth sunk nervously into your bottom lip as you tried to focus on the fact that it smelled as if someone had spilled rubbing alcohol right in front of you. There was the soft buzzing of needles, the little whimpers coming form people who were sitting in their seats.
If you gave it more thought, you'd realize that you weren't exactly sure what you were doing here. Forty three miles from home, nerves crawling up the length of your spine, and a surging need for painkillers consuming you because you were going to get a tattoo. It had been an 'on the whim' decision and you weren't about to go back on it. Not when it was nearly one in the morning and this was the only tattoo shop that let you in this late.
A man walked out from the back room, pencil between his teeth. He smiled at you and then pulled the pencil from his mouth. Slowly, he licked his lips and tilted his head softly to the side. His lips parted, a curious smile on his lips.
"Ready?" It was one word. One word, but it was enough to push fear inside of you. You swallowed and pushed yourself nervously to your feet. "It doesn't hurt that bad."
At his words, a man let out a soft cry. You face paled, your hand running through your hair as he led you into the back room. He stuck the pencil behind his ear and then patted the seat.
"My name is Calum, and really," He began and then placed his hand on your hip when he noticed you were struggling to get onto the seat. Being five feet and three inches didn't help. His thumb grazed the bare skin of your hip, your breathing caught in the back of your throat. "The pain isn't that bad."
"Thank you," You managed and placed your hand on his arm as he lifted you onto the seat. He nodded and then licked his lips. "It's my first tattoo."
"I gathered that," Calum smiled and then pulled the desk over to sit in front of you before sitting in the stool. "Do you have an idea of what you want?"
"I don't know—I've always wanted a book tattoo because I love literature," You explained and leaned back. You watched as he did out a quick outline before lifting his head to look at you. "Jordan."
"Jordan," He repeated and bit down on his lip. "You're very pretty, Jordan."
You felt the blush creep up your cheeks. Warmth spread over your chest and suddenly, you were every conscious of everything. The way your shirt was riding up your stomach, how tight your jeans were, the slow and steady rise and fall of your chest. He stood and pushed the desk away, reaching for your hand.
It was a soft movement. The tip of his finger moving up the length of your arm, landing right where your lower arm met your upper arm. Your lips parted, tongue running over your bottom lip as he shifted his hand so the pad of his thumb touched the skin there.
"Right here," He whispered. "This is where you should get your tattoo."
You swallowed and leaned toward him, feeling the nerves sink away. Calum hardly needed to be verbally persuaded, neither did you. He placed his hand on the side of your neck and brought your mouths together. He was rough and unforgiving, his other hand pushing you against him. Your lips parted, a moan moving past your lips as he shifted down the length of your jaw and then neck.
This was completely out of character. At least for you. Your fingers were carting through his hair, gripping the strands and forcing him closer. Your legs wrapped around his torso, leaning backward until he was climbing onto the seat to remain on top of you. Calum's hand ran down the side of your body, the length of his thumb ghosting a teasing touch to your breast as he moved downward. You pulled away from his mouth, letting out a half-breathless, half-embarrassed sound.
