Shotgun's (B) Ride (Men of Valor MC)

"Here?" he murmurs, and I nod. I temporarily seem to have lost the ability to speak, for some reason. Maybe it’s got something to do with how good he smells – the scent of leather and fresh air, of engine oil and dark wood. I want to bury my face in his neck, but I figure that doesn’t come as part of the cost of service.

"Okay, you ready to get started?” he asks.

My eyes widen. "Just like that?"

"That’s what you came here for, right?" He cocks an eyebrow, looking me over. I feel my cheeks flush. I almost don’t know if I am ready to go ahead with it just like that. But I take a deep breath, and I nod.

"I did," I agree firmly, and he heads off to gather everything he’s going to need for this piece.

I can’t believe I’m really doing this. I never thought I would actually get the nerve up to get a tattoo done – it just seems like so much pain and effort for a little picture on your body. But this is a picture I never want to forget – this is the version of me that I always want to remember.

He returns a moment or two later and takes my hand in his, starting to sterilize the skin around the spot that I am going to get inked. When he touches me, I shift slightly in my seat, and he glances up.

"Nervous?" he asks. I nod.

"First time?”

I nod again.

"It’s not going to be as bad as you think," he assures me, with a smile. "Hey, why don’t you tell me about your tattoo? Keep your mind off of it."

"Sure," I mutter, and I watch as he pulls the needles out. Honestly, I’m not sure that they bother me any more than the thought of him touching me again. His jawline is so sharp in profile that it looks like it could cut glass. It’s smattered with a dark stubble, and I have to fight the urge to run a finger down it.

"Why a tulip?" he asks as he loads up one of the needles with the first color.

"You know what kind of flower that is?" I reply, surprised. He nods. The needle meets my skin for the first time, and I gasp – he grasps my hand to keep it in place. I try not to think about how strong his fingers are right now.

"It’s... what my grandma used to call me," I admit. "Just a nickname she had for me. Nobody else calls me that, but when she passed away, I knew that I needed to get something to commemorate her."

"I’m sorry you lost her," he replies softly, and there is a slight sadness to his voice that tells me that he means it. His fingers tighten on my hand as I shiver, nearly jerking away as the needle scrapes at my skin. It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, and though I could close my eyes and just pretend like this isn’t happening, that would mean missing out on him. And the intent expression of concentration on his face as he stares down at my skin like I am the most important person he has ever seen in his life.

It’s something I haven’t felt since Grandma was alive, and it feels good. Which is something of a miracle considering the needle poking me right now. A smile spreads across my face as I relax, feeling totally secure under Shotgun’s hand.

3

Shotgun

As she tells me a little more about her grandmother, I do everything that I can to keep my eyes on the tattoo. I don’t want to fuck this up. But she’s so damn sexy it’s hard to keep my focus. Hell, I’ve never had a woman like her in my chair, and I wish the tattoo she chose was massive so I’d have her under me for hours on end.

"...it’s just that she always said they were a new beginning, a fresh start," she explains to me. "And she said that they reminded her of me because they always bloom in spring, and, well, that’s my name."

"That’s pretty damn sweet," I remark, as I trace out the stem of the tulip in bright green ink on her wrist. This might be her first time, but she’s picked one hell of a difficult place to get her first tattoo, and she’s taking it like a champ. To be honest, it turns me the fuck on – she looks like innocence but is acting brave as hell.

In that sundress she’s wearing, and with the sunshine pouring through the window, I can practically make out her entire body – she's small, curvy, sexy as all hell, with that mess of blond hair around her shoulders and piercing green eyes that seem to cut right through me. We don’t get many girls in here, and the ones we do get are nothing like her. More leather than lace.