Dark Secret - Avelyn Paige Page 0,54
feel like I’m in some sort of a fishbowl being watched from leather wearing men on all sides.
“Whatcha gonna get, asshole?” Twat Knot chuckles. “A butterfly on your ankle?”
“No, a flower on his foot,” someone else calls out.
I ignore them all, and motion for Wyatt to take a seat. “Okay, handsome. What are we doing?”
Wyatt whips his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the table. “I told you, you get one tat. Your choice of what and where. Make it count.”
Suddenly, I don’t feel so confident. I’m an artist, and a fucking good one at that. But right now, I have an audience, and all of them are rooting for me to tat something stupid on the man I love. The man I love has never wanted a tattoo on his skin before, and now, he’s letting me put my mark on him.
“She won’t do it,” Karma scoffs.
I chew on my lip, thinking about our story. About our daughter. About the struggles we’ve survived and the ones we still have yet to face. And then, I get an idea.
I pull on my gloves and get the ink ready. Slowly, I approach Wyatt and stand directly in front of him. Our eyes meet as I lower myself and place one leg on the right side of him, the other on the left.
“Jesus,” somebody mutters, but I tune them out.
My eyes are locked on Wyatt’s as I sit on his lap, his hands cupping my ass, holding me steady. “You ready?”
His nostrils flare, and butterflies erupt in my belly. Focus, Shelby.
I can feel his cock growing hard beneath me, and it takes a great amount of restraint not to roll my hips and grind myself against him. The audience around us forces me to pay attention to the task at hand.
I grab up the paper towel from the table and place the tattoo gun to Wyatt’s muscular chest. I work quickly and efficiently, dipping the gun with ink and swiping away the excess. Wyatt’s eyes never leave my face, and I’ve never felt more beautiful, or more desirable, than I do right now.
I switch colors three times, and when I’m finished, I use a cool cloth to wipe his skin. Finally, I grin and press my lips to his. “You’re finished.”
“Not quite.” Placing his hands on my thighs, he grinds his cock against me.
I laugh, handing him the small mirror. “I meant your tattoo.”
He grabs it out of my hand and I stand up, taking a few steps back to admire my work. Wyatt stares at the design, frozen.
“Do you like it?”
He finally looks up at me, his eyes filled with so much love. “You’re amazing.”
I grin, proud of the work I’d done. It’s a small tattoo, but I’d put a lot of detail and precision into making it just right.
There, over his very real, beating heart, is a red, tattered, perfectly drawn heart, filled with rips and jagged lines. Along every one of those lines is a thread—a stitch. And above that is the needle with a piece of thread that curls along, forming the words, End Game.
He stands and pulls me into a hug. “I love you, baby,” he whispers in my ear. “You are my fucking end game.”
“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Our hug lasts a long time, and I don’t ever want it to end. But as it always happens in this clubhouse, the moment is disrupted when Twat Knot flops down into the chair Wyatt had just vacated and says, “My turn!”
Hashtag
“Why do we have to go to this party again?” Hayden grumbles from the back seat of our new Ford Explorer. I’d wanted to add a side car to one of my bikes for family trips, but Shelby had vetoed that idea, and away we came with this beast of a car. Little did she know, Hayden and I had made a trip of our own to the Harley dealership beforehand. The sidecar was already being installed on my spare bike. Better to ask for forgiveness later than permission now, right?
“A patch party is an important night for a prospect, Hay,” I explain.
“Not really a place for a child, though,” Shelby argues.
“We’ll be long gone before the debauchery starts, Shel. As a member, I have to be there, and it’ll be nice for the two of you to meet everyone officially.”
“Is Walter going to be there?” Hayden inquires.
“I don’t know what you see in that beast of dog.”
“He likes me.”
“You mean, he