Get Inked: A Pucked Series and Clipped Wings Crossover Novella (Pucked #5.5)(6)

“So I shouldn’t make jokes about spelling things wrong?”

Randy makes a face. “Probably not.”

“Noted.” I do some more finger tracing. “Maybe I should get something, too.”

“You want a tattoo?” I’m pretty sure his voice lowers an octave.

I shrug and follow the outline into the crease of his arm. “I have some ideas.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“You only have regular earrings. You don’t really seem like the body-modification type.” He skims the shell of my ear. I’m wearing the earrings he bought me for Valentine’s Day. They’re mismatched skates: one is a black hockey skate, the other a white figure skate. I pretty much wear them all the time.

“Maybe I’ve just never had an opportunity to explore my wild side.”

“I’m pretty sure we explore your wild side every time we have sex in a public bathroom.”

“We haven’t done that in months!”

“Uh…the last time we were at Sunny and Miller’s, we totally f*cked in their bathroom.”

“That was attached to the bedroom we were sleeping in; it doesn’t count.” I pinch him, and he laughs.

“You can talk to Hayden about your idea tomorrow if there’s time,” he says. “Maybe he can sketch something for you.”

I caress his forearm. His tight, hard forearm. The forearm attached to the hand attached to the fingers that recently ruined my shorts. “He’s done all your work so far, right?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Randy watches my fingers crawling up his arm. “He has. He’s a seriously gifted artist. You should see the wings he put on his girlfriend’s back. They’re insane.”

“Insane how?”

“Like, they look real. He’s got pictures in his custom album so you can check them out tomorrow.” Randy traces an imaginary pattern on my arm. “So if you got a tattoo, where would you want it?”

I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t know. There are a few spots I wouldn’t mind.”

He peruses my naked body. “Such as?”

“Well, I thought about maybe my shoulder.” I tap the area just beside my blade.

He kisses where my finger just was, following with a nibble and a ticklish beard rub. “It’s a sexy spot, for sure. Any other ideas?” His very recently used cock kicks against my thigh where it’s been resting since it left the Vagina Emporium.

Interesting. Talking about me getting a tattoo seems to be making Randy randy again.

“I could put one on my ankle or my foot; that way I can cover it if I want to, but it’ll be visible in the summer when I’m wearing open-toed shoes and sandals.” I run my foot along the outside of Randy’s thigh.

“I like that idea. Tattoos on the top of your foot can be painful, and sometimes the ink bleeds.”

“Hmm. I didn’t think about that. Well, there’s always the hip. I mean, I guess it’s kind of cliché, but it’s sexy, right?”

Randy drags a finger over my ribs and down my side, stopping at my hip where a potential, yet-to-be-designed tattoo might go. “That would definitely be a sexy place for some ink.”

“It sounds like there’s a but in there.”

“It could be painful, what with you being so lean and all.” Randy’s way of calling me skinny is so much nicer than the way the jealous girls used to say it when I was a kid.

I reach down and give his semi-hard cock a pat. “It might be worth the pain if this is the kind of reaction it gets.”

“You think so?” He rolls over on top of me, fitting himself between my legs again.

“Wow. I didn’t realize you’d be this excited about me getting a tattoo.”

Randy hooks my leg over his hip. “You have no f*cking idea.”

Based on the smoulder he’s got going on, and the big hard-on now mashed against my stomach, I think I do, in fact, have a f*cking idea.

Round two is even better than round one. Now I’m really excited to meet his tattoo artist, and not just because Violet said he’s hot.





Chapter 2


Since When Do You Like Hockey?

HAYDEN




I pat my back pocket, checking for my wallet for the seventeenth time as I round the corner. “I gotta roll out, kitten. I’ve got a consult this morning.”

I’m greeted by a sight that immediately makes me reconsider whether I need to go in almost two hours early on a Saturday morning. Tenley, my girlfriend, is wearing my favorite outfit in the entire world: a pair of shorts that are far too skimpy for her to ever leave the house in, and a camisole that shows off some of the design I put on her back. But that’s not the best part. It’s the apron and the hot pink legwarmers slouched around her ankles that make my dick try to punch its way through my zipper.

That and the fact that she’s making cupcakes. I f*cking love cupcakes almost as much as I love Tenley.

She looks over her shoulder, her long, dark ponytail swishing. She’s holding up a spatula covered in fresh buttercream icing. “It’s only nine. I thought you didn’t have to be at the shop until eleven.”