Undeniable (Haven Falls 5)

Tiny brings the needle up and double checks her marking before murmuring to Noah. “Alright, you’ll feel a small pinch. Deep breath in three, two-”

“No,” Noah calls out. “Don’t fucking count. Just do it.”

The needle pierces through and I gape at the sight before me. Noah’s hand squeezes mine and I fear for the little bones throughout my hand. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts before a long, pained groan pulls from deep within him.

“Nearly done,” Tiny tells him as she threads through the bar and works on attaching the ends.

Noah shakes his head as she finishes up and I tear my eyes away to take him in. “How’re you feeling? Do you need some water?”

“I think my life just flashed before my eyes,” he tells me, dropping his head to the table and staring up at the ceiling. “That sucked; like really fucking sucked.”

“At least it’s all done,” I tell him. “We can get out of here and you never have to think about it again.”

“Not quite,” he tells me, a smirk spreading over his face. “You’re up next.”

“Ummm…what?” I laugh. “Not sure if you’ve realized, but I come equipped with a different set of tools, and besides, you’re the one who lost the bet, not me.”

“Yeah, that’s the last time I challenge you to ‘Minute to Win It’ by the way. That had to be rigged. You must practice that shit day in and day out.”

I grin to myself. I’d found a YouTube video of ridiculous party game ideas and was laughing when Noah peered over my shoulder and suggested he could whip my ass in every single game. I don’t mean to toot my own horn but I absolutely smashed him every damn time. Hell, Aria even judged to make sure neither of us were cheating.

I was stoked and shocked to realize just how good I was at sitting on a towel and scooting up the hallway without using my hands and making a pyramid out of soda cans using only my shoulder and chin. I mean, I fucking rocked. I thought for sure Noah was going to have me on the tissue box challenge, but apparently, I can pull those bastards out of that box like a fucking machine.

“What are you waiting for, Spitfire?” Noah says, sitting up with a groan as Tiny finishes with his aftercare. “Sit your ass down. I think we’ll do your tongue.”

I blanch at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? No way. I won that bet fair and square. I’m not getting anything pierced.”

“The hell you aren’t,” he challenges. “I just had my dick pierced. Do you really think you’re in a position to argue about this?”

“Uh, yeah,” I laugh before glancing down at his new shiny dick. “Besides, wouldn’t you worry that we’d…uh, get stuck together?”

Tiny snickers as Noah requires a moment or two to understand what the hell I’m talking about. Watching him finally get it is like seeing that moment in a cartoon when the light bulb above the character’s head finally comes to life.

Noah grins wide and shakes his head. “Trust you to think about that shit,” he tells me before turning to Tiny with curious eyes. He indicates between the two of us. “How long before we can get nasty?”

Tiny rolls her eyes and laughs as she cleans up her station. “I’m not exactly going to suggest doing it right now, but you’re good to go whenever. Just use a condom until it completely heals to avoid infection and make sure you clean it well and stick to all the aftercare instructions. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with your first tattoo.”

“Yeah, I learned that lesson real fucking fast,” he cringes while sucking in a sharp breath. He turns back to me. “Come on, babe. Don’t tell me you’re a pussy and can’t handle what you dish out.”

“You know I’m not a pussy,” I remind him. “But I’m not getting my tongue pierced. I’ll get a tattoo though.”

Noah raises a surprised brow. “Really?” he questions. “You’ve never said anything about wanting a tattoo.”

I nod. “I know because I wasn’t ready to do anything about it and I’ve always worried about the pain. Besides, when would I have had the time to go and get it done? The past seven months have been hit after hit, and it’s not like Dad would have allowed me to do it…but now that I’m eighteen…”

“You’re serious?” Noah questions excitedly as though a tattooed chick turns him on.

“Dead serious.” I pull out my phone and scroll through my gallery until I find the screenshot I’d taken of the angel wing tattoo. I hand him my phone and watch anxiously as he takes it in, looking over the angel wing that would take up a good portion of my right rib cage and the beautiful blues and purples that blend throughout it, looking as though the ink is dripping off the wings. It’s stunning and if Tiny could do something like that, I’d be a happy camper.