323 Tender Way

“That’s my studio. Make yourself at home while I go wash up.”

I flicked on the light in his small private space and felt like I’d been given a secret tour of his heart. His drawings covered the walls, tacked up with pins, as did framed finished pieces, bigger and brighter than the works in progress. The space was inviting, but still clinical and professional. He had a shelf filled with books on tattoo art as well as look books that showcased his work. I loved being in that space and feeling his energy, his vibe.

When Duke finally returned, he carried two water bottles, a tattoo gun, and what looked like ink cartridges. I swallowed hard. Both from nerves and attraction. Duke was so captivating in his studio, confident, creative, and just as gorgeous as ever.

“What a day…it’s not even close to noon.”

“Yay. I like privacy anyway and I don’t need anyone to see me faint at the sight of a pinprick of blood.”

“You got vasovagal, or just don’t like needles?”

“Needles are triggering. Seeing blood around them is worse,” I told him.

“I feel you. This is different. Let me show you.”

Duke sat next to me in the chair and pulled himself in close. He showed me the components of the gun and how to put the cartridge in. The needles were tiny, just little itty bitty things, and the most surprising part was that there was more than one. Duke turned it on and the soft whirring sound didn’t seem scary. He showed me how the needles moved across the skin and it was more of a stamping than the painful poking I had imagined. When he came so close to me, I could feel his intention. He was gentle and kind, very comforting and somewhat overprotective. I’d never been in love before, but I knew in that moment what it consisted of, these feelings so big and deep they terrified me as much as they fulfilled me. I wanted more of Duke, I wanted all of him. I felt desperate and euphoric. When I looked into his golden irises, the connection was so fierce, it made my heart swell.

Without warning, I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck. He put the gun down and pulled me into his lap.

“I wish I had another story to tell you, Madison. A story of football stardom, college, travel or success. But my story is true, it got me here today, it’s all I’ve got, and I’ve learned to accept that.”

Chapter 8

Duke

Madison wrapped her arms around me and whispered in my ear. “Duke, yours is a story of triumph and it’s the bravest one I’ve ever heard.”

She kissed me then, fully and passionately. I held her to my chest and returned the kiss, unable to get enough of her. When I felt her hot center grind over my erection, I knew I had to tattoo her quickly or my hands wouldn’t be steady with the rush of hormones and adrenaline coursing through my body.

I smacked her butt playfully, but the touch sent a jolt right to my dick.

“Tell me what you want and where you want it,” I told her.

“Are you always so forward with your customers?” she cooed. Madison was stepping out of her jeans and I couldn’t tear my eyes from her.

“Remember, Tattoos are the three Ps. Painful, Permanent, and Pricy. The pricy is moot because this is on the house, obviously. But if you’re okay with the other two then we can proceed.”

I pulled my black latex gloves on and kissed her in the chair as she reclined in just a bra and panties. Her lingerie was a sheer blush color and transparent enough for me to see the dark pink of her nipples and the outline of her pussy. Her body was so sexy that my cock strained in my jeans.

Madison hooked her hands on both sides of her panties and lifted her hips as she slid them down, never breaking eye contact with me. She pointed to the tender spot on her lower hip, far enough in toward her pussy that my hands would graze her there as I inked her.

“I want a sparrow. Just like the ones you have here,” she said, her voice gone husky with desire. When she touched the ink on my arm, my skin felt alive with desire.

“A sparrow?” I asked her. “Right here?” My hand grazed her in that delicate spot and she arched in response. Her nipples were pebbled and she licked her lips as she watched me alcohol the area with a cotton ball. “I thought you were going to ask me for a chili pepper.”

The sparrow tattoo took a little over an hour and was the single-most erotic experience of my life. Madison bit her lip to keep from squirming under the heat of the needle and broke out in a sweat multiple times from trying to suppress the pain. When she moaned as my needle pricked into her tender flesh, I had to steady my own breathing and not come in my pants. She would arch her back up when I was got into the dark shading, whimper in protest and her pupils became dilated. It was hard to tell what noises came from pain and which were born from a deeper state of ecstasy. Ultimately, it was one in the same. Life and love were both equal doses of pleasure and pain.