Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(44)

She possessed the music; the music didn't possess her.

She was wearing a gray cotton, backless, belly shirt that was held in place by a simple, thin string, tied in a bow across the center of her back. Her ripped up jeans hung low on her hips, the hem dragging on the floor beneath her. She was covered in tattoos. One sleeve completely finished on her left arm. Her right arm halfway there with a few places of creamy, white skin peeking through.

But the tattoo on her back was what had my attention. It was a masterpiece. I had never seen anything like it before.

Intricate, mesmerizing, dark, yet the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It had a pin up style angel drawn in the center, starting at the top of her spine and ending down the middle of her back. The angel’s head was bowed not revealing her face, hands placed out in front of her, clasped in prayer gesture. Purple hair, flowing wild and free.

The wings attached to the angel, spread out on each of her shoulder blades, descending all the way down both sides of her back. Narrowing in on her tiny waist. The wings were so f*cking detailed. I imagined she must have spent hours upon hours and several sessions lying on a table.

The wing on the right side of her back was so pure and white, illuminating to the eye. I had no idea there could be that many shades of white all intermixing, creating the feathers texture. Hints of silver were interlaced with the white making it really standout. Each feather was perfectly placed, every stroke immaculate.

While the wing on the left side was clipped, made up of dark shades of black with red bleeding through the empty spaces. The feathers were tarnished, broken, all out of place, and moving in all sorts of directions. Some were missing, some hanging by a thread. The same flawless, distinct texture, and shading as the right wing.

They were contrasting and contradicting to say the least.

Baffling even.

I stood there amazed and in awe of the story and mystery before me. Desperately wanting to unfold it. I wanted to find out if every piece on her had a meaning, a significance behind it. The girl was a dancing paradox and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, even if I wanted to.

And I didn’t want to.

Her hands slowly worked their way up her body to her head, running her fingers seductively through her hair, holding it up in place. I wanted to sink my teeth into her luscious ass. The way she moved, the way she swayed, the way she danced was so unbelievably f*cking sexy, but it wasn’t like every other girl I was used to seeing.

She wasn’t dancing for anyone but herself.

She rocked her hips, spinning to the beat of the music, finally turning to face me.

I. Stopped. Breathing.

She was f*cking beautiful. Describing her wouldn’t even do her justice.

Her eyes were shut, oblivious to all the eyes that were fixated just on her. She didn’t give a f*ck who was around, who was talking, who was dancing.

All her facial features were pronounced and prominent but perfect for her. Her mouth was pouty and plump, seductively biting on her lower lip as the song came to an end. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly becoming dry. My gaze traveled down her body, her breasts were full, big, and perky as f*ck. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could see her nipples peeking through her top. She had the tiniest waist with her hips slightly curving out.

An hourglass figure, exactly how I liked it.

There were tattoos down the sides of her stomach, one on her lower abdomen, and few cursive writing pieces scattered around. The one on her collarbone caught my attention the most and I wanted to know what it said. My eyes wondered back up to her face at the exact same moment the song ended.

The vision in front of me opened her eyes, and I sucked in a visible breath. I’d never seen eyes so bright and blue before. She looked so angelic, even though I knew she was anything but pure. She cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at me. Taking me in as much as I took her in seconds ago. The music changed over to a faster beat, and the dance floor was once again filling quickly. The crowd of bodies started to surround her, but she didn’t let that deter her regard over me. Slowly, she walked toward me, parting through the men and women dry f*cking each other on the dance floor.

Never breaking our connection.

I was leaning against the railing, one leg placed over the other. The blunt still between my thumb, index, and middle fingers. My other hand placed inside my pocket, rubbing my fingers together, imagining the way her skin would feel beneath them. Patiently and calmly waiting for her to say the magic words that would allow me to touch her.

To feel her against my skin.

Along my mouth.

Around my cock.

She was intoxicating as much as she was suffocating.

I took in the way her hips swayed, the way her tits bounced, and the way she licked her lips, making my dick twitch at the sight.

She stepped out onto the balcony, closing the sliding door behind her to lean up against it. Angling her body in a way that only made me want to devour every last f*cking inch of her silky, white skin. The smell of weed, salt water, and something else, something tempting, something sinful, something her surrounded us.

Was now my new favorite scent.

Without saying a word, she gradually eyed me up and down with a fascinated glare. She took me in inch by inch until she stopped, reaching her desired destination. I followed her stare down to my hand still not moving from the place I stood. Grinning like a goddamn fool when I realized what she wanted.

“Can I have a hit?”