Full Contact (Redemption #3)(56)
Pulse pounding in my ears, I shake my head. “Ray’s part of Redemption too.”
“He trains here, but he doesn’t fight here,” Doctor Death says. “He’s not part of the fight team or the staff. And he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to be one of us. But you are, and we’ll always have your back.”
“Why do I feel like I’ve suddenly inherited a club full of Tags?” I reach behind me for the door handle and turn away.
“We were always here,” Doctor Death calls out. “You just weren’t looking.”
After Doctor Death leaves, I call Jess at work. She says I shouldn’t trust him since he clearly has an ulterior motive and instead of assuming the worst, why not just put it to the side and ask Ray about it the next time I see him? I tell her she is too levelheaded and clearly doesn’t understand that artistic types thrive on emotional drama. Jess says she has enough emotional drama in her life for both of us. Tag showed up at her place last night.
We make plans to meet up for a drink after work, so she can share all the details, and for the first time since Doctor Death stepped through the door, my anxiety eases.
I spend the afternoon on two small walk-in pieces and yet another Redemption logo. But I don’t mind doing it and, in fact, I admire the loyalty the fighters have to the club. I suggest to Slim we all get Rabid Ink ass tattoos to show our loyalty to his shop. He suggests we get his name inked in our skin instead. Christos says Slim would look good on his ass. Many filthy comments ensue.
Ray walks in as I’m cleaning my station at the end of the day. He nods to Slim and Rose as they head out the door, then he sits on my chair and says he’s come to have his tat finished. I tell him I have plans with Jess. Christos and I are closing up for the night, and if he wants a tat, he needs to make an appointment with Rose. He leans over and whispers in my ear that he’s f*cking the artist so he doesn’t need an appointment, and if I have a problem with that, he’d be happy to pull me over his lap and spank my ass until I’m ready to work. I tell him there seems to be a lot of talk about spanking but no real action. Ray grabs my shirt and yanks me over his lap. Then he whacks my ass so hard I gasp.
Scrambling off his lap, cheeks burning, I turn around. Far from being shocked, Christos is laughing. He tosses me the keys and heads out to his gig. I am left alone with Ray, a lungful of mortification, and a burning ass.
“I’m never going to live that down.” I gesture toward the closing door. “He’s going to tell everyone.”
Ray turns in the chair and pulls me between his legs. “I’ll make it up to you. You can ink me while you’re naked and sitting in my lap.”
“I’m thinking that’s going to be more for your benefit than mine. And there’s no way I’m stripping down in the studio or doing a tat from your lap.”
He lifts my shirt and presses a warm kiss to my stomach. “We’ll see.”
Half an hour later, after securing the door and sending Jess an apologetic text, I’m still clothed, but straddling Ray’s lap on my client chair with the tattoo machine in my hand.
“This is so unprofessional,” I say after I put away the disinfectant. “I can’t believe the things you talk me into.”
He cups my breast in his palm over my T-shirt and licks his lips. “If I remember correctly, I didn’t have to talk.”
My cheeks burn at his reference to our moment in the staff room when he kissed me so hard my knees went weak and I moaned into his mouth.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice soft. “She knows what I’m talking about.”
Despite Ray’s protests, I have plugged my iPod into the sound system and the first mix starts off with Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida.”
“Christ.” Ray grimaces. “You sure know how to take a mood down. You got any hard rock? Linkin Park? Isn’t the client supposed to choose?”
“I’m sitting on your lap,” I say with a little grind over the bulge in his jeans for effect. “I’m also working instead of going out with my bestie. You’ve pretty much gotten everything you want from me. Is it too much to ask for a little musical indulgence?”
His hooded gaze rakes over my body. “Maybe if I were inside you—”
“Seriously?” I hold up the tattoo machine. “The tat is forever. If I slip up, it is a permanent mistake. I don’t want to do that to you. Also, you know it can be painful. You might not be able to…you know…keep it up.”
He lifts an admonishing eyebrow.
“Okay. I take it back. You are all lion all the time. But I have to draw the line at having sex while doing a tat.”
“Fine. I’ll give you a break.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Pleasure.”
“You probably already know this,” I say, “but the shading can be much more painful than the outline, so let me know if you need a break.”
He raises his eyebrow again, higher this time.
“Right. Forgot you are too manly to feel pain, just like every man who comes in here. However, when the pain overrides your pride, let me know.” Taking a deep breath, I try to ignore his cock pressed up against the curve of my sex, his body warm beneath me, and his hand caressing my breast as I begin shading. I manage to relax into the design and listen to the music, but after ten minutes of silence, I sigh.