"Is it going to hurt?" I asked for about the millionth time. "Like, this thing is huge. It's going to hurt." I look down at the intricate mandala design Boston had transferred onto my skin. "It's sooo pretty though."
He sits back in the chair saying, "Monica, I can still wipe it off and you can keep the drawing. I made it for you but I don't have to tattoo it onto you."
"No! No. I want it!" Which I really do. I just don't want to deal with the pain.
"Finish the soda and eat your candy bar then." He runs a hand through his hair as I finish up both of them. He'd said the sugar would help keep me from passing out, which he seemed pretty sure I'd do. I truly hope I don't. "Alright. I'm going to start with the diamond-like shape at the top." He snaps on some gloves. "It's small, so if you decide you can't take it then let me know."
I glare at him, "why do you doubt that I can take it?"
He raises his brows with, "oh I don't know, only the gazillion amount of times you've asked if it's going to hurt? Here goes nothing, Cherry." He leans forward and begins. I wince at the initial sting of the needle but don't give him anything after that. He finishes the small design and then looks back at me. "You good?"
"I'm fine." It wasn't a lie and I suppose he could see that in my features as he goes back at it. "It just kind of stings."
"We've just started." He chuckles. "We'll see how you are in an hour."
"I didn't know this was going to be such a time consuming event."
"This isn't a peel and stick, baby, this is for life."
"I'm well aware."
"When I first met you I wouldn't have thought you were an all or nothing type of person." That's because I hadn't been. I'd just kind of went with the motions, let my life be dictated by what I thought would be the best for me.
"I wasn't until I met you."
He doesn't pause his ministrations on my skin but he's quiet for a while. Just the hum of his gun and wipes of my skin every now and again. He's extremely focused and I can't help but watch him as he permanently inks the work of art on my skin. Watching him makes me forget the pain. He's so beautiful in his intensity. It makes me wish I had been awake to watch him draw the piece.
Five hours later, with only two breaks in between, he had finally finished the piece. I'd surprisingly been alright throughout the experience, lost in all that was Boston. It was a bit sad really, but I was grateful that he was such a distraction from the gnawing, scraping sensation of the needle against my flesh.
"It's beautiful." I marvel at the piece in the bathroom mirror. "I love it, Boston." I find his reflected gaze. "Thank you. Now what do I owe you?" He snorts out an incredulous laugh. "What? My dad is always bitching about how expensive it is to get his touch-ups or new work done."
"You think I'd make you pay? I'm not making my girl pay, you're out of your mind. Besides, you have no idea how badly I've wanted to ink you, give you something that's forever." Something about the way he'd said that made my chest flutter. "Plus, when you're back at school and I'm back in Vegas, you'll be able to look at it and think of me." I have to swallow the lump in my throat at that thought.
"Take a picture!" He cocks a brow insinuating that's probably not the best idea after my dad had seen the picture of the two of us but I don't care. I don't want to fall into a bad mood at the thought of us having to separate. "Please? I want to show it off." That makes him smile.
"Alright but then you gotta let me wrap that thing up so we can get something to eat. I'm starving."
"Deal." He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture. "One more?" He quirks a brow and I beckon him with a finger. "Give me the phone." He hands it to me as he comes up to stand behind me. I snap one with us both making a silly face and then I pull his arms around my middle. He surprises me by leaning down to place a kiss on my shoulder, right at the tip of the tattoo. I snap that twice with the stupidest grin on my face. "Send it to me?"
He nods his head as he stares at the picture. "Do you mind if I share it on my page?"
"No, show off your craftsmanship." He gives me an interesting look. "What?"
"It's not the work I want to show off, Monica. It's you." A warmth spreads all over my cheeks. I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck before pulling him down for a kiss.
✩✩✩
Sharing an image of my freshly tatted self, especially with Boston's arms wrapped around me, kissing my shoulder, was probably not the smartest thing. I honestly didn't care though. Not even when my father text me certain expletives about Boston's lips on me again. I don't even want to think about his initial reaction to the fact that he'd tattooed me.
My mother had messaged me, she'd apparently seen the picture too. She said she couldn't wait to hear about my new friend but asked me to stay safe. She also asked me to refrain from posting any more of my spontaneous impulses online until my father knows I'm back at school. I'm assuming she took his phone from him before he could flip any more of his lid.
I'm probably going to give my father an aneurysm if I keep it up.
I hadn't heard anything from Carter but that wasn't a surprise when I'd checked his page. He was draped in beautiful girls, seemingly unfazed. Guess it was easy for him to move on to easier girls.
Wasn't hard for you to move on to Boston. No it wasn't. Everything with him was just natural. Everything with him just felt right. He just felt right.
My friends back home loved the pictures and couldn't believe I'd actually gotten a tattoo. No surprise there either. Introverted good girl, Monica, stepping out of her shell was probably hard to wrap their heads around.
Marcella though, she sent me the most filthy texts. I had laughed at each one. She told me what a badass roommate she had and how she couldn't wait until I got back to hear the stories directly from my mouth. She wanted all the dirty details. She was also glad that I wouldn't be kicked out of school.
I didn't even know the girl really and yet she was the happiest for me. I've only known Boston for nearly two weeks and already my heart beats irregularly for him. It's funny how the people I seemingly barely know make me the happiest these days.
As for my tattoo, initially the pain hadn't bothered me. I don't know if it was the adrenaline, excitement, or whatever have you, but now I am feeling it. It stings like a burn, a massive one that goes from the top of my shoulder to my mid-arm. It doesn't just sting either, it itches.
God, it itches so baaaad.
"So, you're saying I can't itch it, right?" Never in my life, well maybe after a bad case of poison ivy, have I been this itchy. I'm like a dog with fleas but I can't scratch.
"No, you can't itch it. I've only told you that about a five-hundred times over the past forty-eight hours."
"But I really want to itch it." Just saying the words out loud makes me want to even worse.
"Do you want to get an infection?" I frown at him. "I didn't think so." He bumps his nose with mine, it's a habit of his that I adore. "Give it some time and it will heal. The itching will stop."
"Promise?"
"For the umpteenth time, yes." He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath. "Remind me to never tattoo you again."
"Hey!" I push him over, roll on top of him, then straddle him. "I've never had a tattoo before and it's not my fault I'm not used to it!" I point a finger in his face. "And if you don't want to give me my next one then fine! I'll find another tattoo artist!"
His expression darkens and he gives me a hard look, "you better never let anyone else touch this beautiful skin." There's a threatening glimmer in his eyes. "Especially in a permanent manner."
"And if I do? Hmm? What if I get a face tat?" He surprises me by rolling my body over completely, hovering above me on his forearms. "Boston!"
He cups the side of my face with one hand and growls out, "you better never let anyone defile this beautiful face." He places a soft kiss on my lips and then whispers fiercely, "or this body." I whimper as he thrusts against me, making me feel his hardened self against the now-aching spot between my legs.
"Not even you?" The words were barely audible. He steadies himself over me, unmoving now, as he looks down at me. "What?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Do you want me to defile you?" Yes. No? In truth, I want him to ruin me for all other men. Even though we haven't gone all the way, I'm afraid he's already ruined me anyway.
"I don't think you understand."
His eyes search mine. "Understand what?"
"What you've already done to me. The affect you have on me." The way you make me feel.
"The feeling is mutual." My brows furrow. "You do all of the things to me, Mon. You make me feel all of them."
"All of the things?" I try to hold back the traitorous, emotionally-charged tears that want to leave my eyes.
"Yes, all of them. Even things people shouldn't be feeling after two weeks of knowing someone." My heart pounds irregularly in my chest and I can feel his meaning. "Tell me it's not just me?" His eyes are searching my face as I stare at him speechlessly. I'm afraid if I speak I'll get choked up. "Shit. I just made this awkward. I didn't mean to make you feel like you have to— fuck." He goes to get off of me but my hands clasp onto each of his biceps firmly.
"It's not just you." I blink my eyes dry so I don't make a complete fool of myself.
"Thank fuck." He nearly collapsed on top of me in relief.
"Did you really think I wouldn't feel the same about you? After everything that's transpired between us? I've never been touched by a man the way you have touched me. You're the only one I've ever let do that. The only one I've wanted to."
"I'm glad I make you feel all the things too." He peppers kisses down my jaw as his hands lift up my shirt. "Especially the good things, the sexy things." I lift up slightly and let him pull my shirt off, feeling entirely exposed to him. All I have on are my lace underwear. His kisses continue to trail down my neck. "Is it horribly selfish of me to want to be all of your firsts?" He nips from one nipple to the other before looking up at me.
"No." I could barely tremble out the word as he fingers the hem of my panties.
"It's not?" He blows a breath on my abdomen and goosebumps spread out all over it. I'm a quivering mess beneath his touch. "Why isn't it selfish to want them all to myself?"
"Because I want you to be all of my firsts."
His eyes glisten before he says, "that's the right answer."
A/N:
Cliffhanger!
How're we all feeling about that little convo?
Happy Tuesday!