Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(38)

I held my chin higher. “So much for being brothers, Lucas.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re not my brother.”

I looked him up and down.

He stepped away from me, adding, “Not anymore.”

I swallowed hard, blinking away the hurt I felt in my heart.

“Give him time, Austin. He’ll come around,” Dylan coaxed.

I nodded.

“Dylan’s right. You know Lucas… he’s hotheaded and stubborn as all hell. When he’s ready, he’ll forgive you. He’ll get past this. ”

“Have you?” I blurted, already knowing the answer.

They both looked at each other and then back at me, the truth written clear across their faces.

“Exactly.”

“Hi,” the girl with the tits from class greeted, pulling me away from my thoughts as I walked out into the parking lot.

I glanced over at her and she smirked, playing with the ends of her hair. I immediately envisioned pulling it while I was balls deep inside her. Gripping it back by the nook of her neck as I f*cked her doggy style.

My cock twitched.

“Hey there.” I smiled.

“You want to hang out?” she asked, doing that thing chicks do with their lips. A pout that she seemed to have perfected, making me wonder what they would feel like wrapped around my cock.

“I have some weed back at the sorority house. We could smoke, talk, you know… whatever.”

I was about to say something when my phone rang. I grabbed it out of my pocket to see who was calling me. Alex’s smiling face illuminated the screen.

“He almost f*cking killed her! She was in a goddamn coma!”

I hit ignore.

“Lead the f*ckin’ way, sweetheart.”





<>Briggs<>


Alejandro Martinez.

I never understood the importance of a name. It wasn’t until after that night three months ago that I learned that names carry a heavy load.

The connotation behind a name, and not just any name…

My name.

Martinez.

“Damn! I love your hair,” the girl behind the counter all but screamed as I walked into the tattoo shop. “How did you get such a vibrant purple? Oh my God! I would kill for that!”

I ignored her compliment and looked around the room, stopping when I spotted the guy in the back corner covered in tattoos. When he felt my gaze on him, he peered up and we locked eyes. I internally smiled.

I recognized those eyes.

I walked toward him, never breaking our connection. The tattoo business card that I found on my uncle’s desk safely hidden in my pocket.

If you wanted to know the truth about someone…

The secrets that lurk in their dark corners.

What they’re feeling… what they want… what they need…

The depths of their soul.

Just look them in the eyes.

They never f*cking lie.

I handed him the piece of paper that I had clutched in my tight grasp. He took it from me and looked it over, jerking his neck back with a fascinated regard.

“You want this tattooed?” he asked. His gaze still intently placed on the drawing in his hand.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“From the nook of my neck, down the center of my back, stopping in the middle.” I pointed to the sketch. “These I want on each of my shoulder blades, cascading down the sides of my entire back.”

He shook his head, mockingly. “Sweetie, this is an intricate tattoo. The detailed outline will take several hours, not to mention several sessions to do the color and shading. The pain alone can be unbearable.” He handed me back my drawing. “How about just a butterfly or something?”

I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at him. “I got nothing but time, sweetie.”

He arched an eyebrow. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

“Oh yeah?” He nodded at me. “Let me see your ID.”

“Alejandro Martinez is my ID.”

His eyes widened, it was quick but I saw it. I knew he would recognize the name, having an appearance of a man who was just released from prison.

“And trust me, he won’t give a f*ck,” I added.

He stood up and gestured toward the chair in front of him. I sat down, waiting for him to get suited up. It didn’t take long for him to have everything ready. Pulling over the curtain to give us some privacy, he laid down the table and patted it.

“You can change in the bathroom. I have a smock in there you can use, just leave the opening in the back.”

I smiled, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

“I'm not shy, I don't need the bathroom. Be a gentleman and turn around.”

He smiled back at me, spinning the chair that he was sitting in. I threw my shirt and bra on the counter and laid face down on the table. I heard his movements and the sliding of his chair on the tile floor. I felt his warm hands, rubbing alcohol all over my back.

“This your first tattoo, little girl?”

“I don’t know, is it yours, big boy?”

He softly laughed behind me. The vibration causing my back to stir.

“You sure about this? Once the needle hits your skin. There’s no going back.”