Crash (Evil Dead MC 2)

“Excuse me.”

He looked up to see her eyes looking back at him over her shoulder as she bent over the table. She moved her cue forward and back an inch, and he saw he was blocking her shot. He scrambled off the barstool, pulling it out of her way. “Sorry, darlin’.”

She made the shot and straightened, walking around the table, contemplating her next shot. She bent and sank another ball, then missed on her next shot.

Crash stood up and chalked his cue. His eyes met hers. “So, you decide yet what ink you want to put on my body if you win, Princess?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe my name in big block letters across your chest.”

He chuckled and leaned down to make his shot. “That’s not very original. Come on, baby, you can do better than that.” He sank the ball and moved to another.

“Where did you say the most painful area was? Your ribs? Maybe I’ll put it there.”

“Ouch!” he said around a grin as he sank another ball. He looked up to see her studying the table. He had only one ball left and the eight ball. He could finish her off right now, but he was really curious to see just what she’d pick if she won, so he decided to give her one last shot at it. He sank his last ball and purposely missed on the eight ball.

When he looked up this time with an, “Oops,” he saw she was on to him.

She slid off the barstool with a smirk, moving up to him. “You want to give the game away, I’ll take it. Maybe you enjoy pain.” She cocked her head sideways, her eyebrows raised as she slid the tips of her fingers down the ink on his ribs.

His eyes bore into hers as her touch set a flame tearing through him. “Go ahead. Finish me off, and we’ll see. Otherwise, it’ll be me putting my mark on you.” He watched her swallow, and he smiled.

She moved to take her shot. She sank the first of the two balls she had left on the table easily. Moving to the eight ball, she realized how tricky a shot it was going to be. She had to stretch across the table to get her cue in position. She was practically lying across the felt, her ass once again in the air. She glanced back and caught his eyes moving over her ass and legs again, and he watched her as she trembled.

They exchanged a look that said it all. In another minute, one of them was getting ink.

She pulled back her stick and tapped the cue ball. He watched as she scratched, and her head dropped to the table. A moment later he was leaning over her, his chest pressed up against her back, covering her, his arms coming to rest on the felt on either side of her. He whispered in her ear, “I know just what I want and where I want it, Shannon.”

“Oh, God,” he heard her say into the felt and chuckled.

“You’re not gonna wuss out on me now, are you? That’s called welshing.”

“I’m not a welsher.” She turned her head to the side.

“Prove it,” he said in her ear.

“Fine. Let’s do it.”

He lifted off her and pulled her up and around to face him. Then his eyes moved past her to the pool table and the light hanging above it. “This is as good a place as any. The lighting’s perfect.” His hands went to her waist, and he lifted her up and set her ass on the pool table.

She looked up at him, startled. “Crash, what are you doing?”

“Gonna lay my ink on you. Here’s as good a spot as any. Lie back, darlin’.” She stared up at him, and he could see the confusion and maybe a little fear in her face. He lifted his hand to her cheek, cupping it and looked into her eyes. Stepping closer, he pushed between her knees. “I don’t want you to be afraid, Shannon. I can’t promise you it won’t hurt, because it will. It’ll sting like a bitch, but I’ll go easy on you, sweetheart. That I promise. All right?”

She looked up at him, and he could swear he watched the fear slide right out of her eyes. And then she nodded, gazing up at him trustingly.

“That’s my girl. Lie back for me, baby,” he coaxed softly. She did as he told her, and he found himself standing over her, his hips wedged between her spread thighs, her knees hooked over the wide table bumper.

“What…what are you going to put on me?” she asked him in a hesitant voice.

“You’ll see when it’s finished.”

“Where?”

He stared down at her, and then his hands moved to the snap of her shorts.

“I’ll show you.”

Her hands clamped over his, stopping him. “Crash.”