Get Off on the Pain (8 page)

I’ll just let Memphis know that I’m leaving, thank him for being an asshat, and go home. The only good thing about this night was getting a few sips of my drink. It was pure deliciousness before I dumped it all over Ryder and myself. Now, I’m just ready to jump into my nice comfy bed and pretend this shitty night never existed.

I wander down the hall in search of the right door and realize that I’m standing in front of it when I get an earful of some rock music and the sound of him punching something, hard.

It doesn’t take much for me to figure out that it must be him letting out his anger and frustration on a punching bag; probably one similar to the one I found him punching in his garage the other day. How many bags does this guy need?

A huge part of me says to turn around and leave without telling him, but the other part has me feeling bad at the thought, remembering the look of concern in his eyes when he asked me to come here. Obviously he knows Ryder much better than I do, so I trusted his judgment and the sincerity in his eyes was real. It was a moment of weakness, but that moment is far gone now, thanks to his dickhead attitude.

Pulling the door open, I slowly walk down the stairs, listening to him growl out as he lets out his frustration. I have to admit, there is something oddly sexy about hearing his grunts; to the point that I almost want to sit back and just watch him pound his fist into the bag, all sweaty and out of breath. The thought gives me chills, but I move past it and keep walking.

Once I get to the bottom of the steps I look around the corner to see him standing shirtless and sweaty, his back muscles flexing as he continues to beat the big, black bag in front of him. It’s somewhat dark and almost hard to see him from this distance, so I walk further into the basement.

Each swing seems to pack more heat as he continues to work out his anger. I’ve never seen him shirtless. Holy fucking shit! It has rendered me speechless just from his back alone.

Every single muscle in his back is defined and flexed, changing visually with each steady hit to the bag in front of him, only stopping occasionally to wipe the sweat from his forehead. There’s also a huge tattoo that stretches across his back that reads,
Never back down. Fight
. And the O from the word “down” turns into a pink ribbon for breast cancer.

It causes my anger toward him to slowly fade and for me to be able to meditate on the beauty in front of me. He’s obviously had someone in his family battle breast cancer and seeing the ribbon on his back just proves how supportive he must have been. This is real beauty to me.

I find myself grabbing for my camera, pulling the lens cap off, and snapping a few pictures of him from behind. With each move that he makes, the pictures only seem to become more stunning to me. The human body is an extraordinary thing and his is a work of art. I continue to snap a few shots until he freezes and grips the bag. That’s when I notice the huge mirror on the wall in front of him. He’s now looking at me.

Wanting to capture his face I snap a few shots as he turns around. The look on his face is both intense and sexy at the same damn time. He flexes his jaw and takes a few steps toward me, stopping a few feet in front of me. His icy eyes bore into mine, sweat running over his eyelids and down his strong facial features.

“I thought I told you to stay upstairs? Dammit, Lyric.” His voice is thick and harsh as he fights to catch his breath.

I swallow as he grabs my camera and removes it from around my neck, setting it down on his dresser. My treacherous eyes wander down to his stiff chest and abs, landing directly on the V of muscle leading down into his jeans. The narrow, moist patch of brown hair almost causes my mouth to water as I think about what it leads to.

“I’m leaving,” I blurt out, unsure of how to act now that my resolve has crumbled. “I was coming to let you know. Now give me my camera so I can go.”

He walks forward until I’m backed against the wall with his arms pinning me in. He inhales a deep breath and leans down so that his lips are just inches above mine. Our bodies aren’t touching, yet my stupid body is reacting as if we are. My breathing picks up. I smell his minty breath mixed with hard liquor as it brushes against my lips.

“You like taking pictures of me, Lyric?” He presses his body a little closer, but still doesn’t touch me. Call me crazy, but my body is screaming for him to at this point. “I can bare the rest of my body right now and let you take as many pictures as you want as long as you promise to keep my jacket on. Is that what you want? Huh, Lyric? Because that is all I can do for you.”

I fight to catch my breath before I place my hands on his sweaty chest and push him away. He hasn’t even touched me and I am so damn turned on that I can’t fight the wetness forming between my legs. Just the thought of his sweaty, naked body is insanely hot. Him offering to show it to me . . . I can’t even go there. I just need to get out of here.

“Just because I like taking your picture does not mean that I want to see you naked. It means that . . . just never mind. I don’t have to explain shit to you. I’m out of here.”

I walk past him and reach for my camera, replacing the cap.

“Let me walk you and make sure Ryder isn’t there.”

He runs up the stairs ahead of me and I quickly follow up behind him. I’m not used to having any man try to protect me. It gives me an odd feeling of warmth, yet makes me feel weak. I’ve always taken pride in being strong enough to take care of myself. I don’t understand why he has the urge to protect me.

I finally catch up to him and see him standing outside his garage door, leaning into the frame. He doesn’t even turn around before speaking. “Looks like you don’t need me to walk you home.” He looks me up and down, stopping on my breasts for a quick second before he turns around and runs a hand through his hair. “Keep the jacket. I’ll get it later.”

Then just like that—he walks away.

I look down at my breasts to see that my nipples are hard once again, the piercings pressing against the tight fabric.

“Great!”

I’m pretty sure I know when that happened.

Memphis naked . . . don’t even consider it.

I walk past a stunned Bailey and Landen, closing myself inside my room.

Push it far from your mind, Lyric. I’m sure it’s easier said than done . . .

IT’S BEEN ALMOST A WEEK since I last saw Memphis, and I can’t help but to wonder where he’s been. I mean, who the hell just takes off on a motorcycle with no bags or personal belongings and doesn’t return for that long? Is it weird to admit I’m a little worried? I shouldn’t be, but I am.

I have found myself going through my camera, looking at the pictures of him on more than one occasion since they were taken. I even uploaded a few of them to my computer and edited the images. Not that they needed much editing. There’s something so damn beautiful about him that he’s almost painful to look at, yet I can’t stop. Honestly, I don’t want to.

The last time I saw him he was leaving his house. It was close to midnight and I couldn’t sleep. The sound of his motorcycle caught my attention and since I was already sitting by my window—I peeked out. He was wearing a plain white shirt, a pair of faded jeans, and some old worn out Chucks. His dark hair was standing up all over his head as if he’d been tugging on it. The sight of him made my stomach knot up for some odd reason, but I just brushed it off.

It’s almost as if he knew I was looking because not even five seconds later . . . his eyes met mine. I couldn’t make out his expression very well in the dark, but from what I could see—he looked extremely stressed and bothered. He just stared at me for a moment, lost in thought, before he abruptly turned his attention away and drove off.

I remember it being chilly that night, and it made me wonder why he still hadn’t taken his jacket back from me before he left. Since then I have been bringing it to work with me just in case he needs to get it while I’m not home.

I know it sounds stupid, considering the fact he doesn’t even know where I work, but I have a feeling he could find out easily if he really wanted to.

Pulling open the glass door to
Ravage
, I nod to Styles who is shoving a whole donut in his mouth. I reflexively lean into Ryan as he places a quick kiss on my cheek. They both look half asleep and just ready to pass out any second.

“Hey, boys. Late night?” I look them both over with a grin, secretly enjoying their misery before searching through the box for a glazed donut. I take a quick bite, moaning as the sweet goodness melts in my mouth. I close my eyes to add effect. I don’t care who you are; no one passes up glazed donuts. “Mmm . . . this is delicious.” I lick my fingers clean. “They’re fresh this time. I’m impressed.”

Setting down Memphis’ jacket, I yawn before taking another bite.

Ryan reaches around me for the leather jacket and holds it up with a smirk. “Why have you been bringing this jacket with you every day this week?” He holds it next to me, showing that it’s too damn big to be mine. “You can just give it to me now. Stop pretending you haven’t been thinking about me. Gifts are completely acceptable.”

I shove the rest of my donut in my mouth and snatch Memphis’ jacket away from Ryan, who just scrunches up his face.

“Mind your own business, Ry. Don’t you have some tattoos or girls to do or some shit?” I ask, the sarcasm dripping from my tongue. “I’ll be in my room setting up, and before you ask, NO I will not pierce your penis again so don’t even try.”

“Bullshit,” he mumbles. “You’re doing it before I leave town because I don’t trust anyone else with a needle that close to my dick. You’re off the hook today, though, because I have an old friend coming in soon for a tat. Sorry, but I can’t go in there with a hard on and my penis throbbing.”

Ryan is one of the two tattooist at the moment, but he plans on moving in March of next year, so that gives Styles six months to fill his spot. Even though he can be a huge pain in the ass, I have to admit he’s one of the best I’ve seen. I’ll almost be sad to see him go just because I’ll miss his art.

“Well in that case maybe I can make an exception. I’m sure I’ll be free for the next ten minutes or so.” I smile and start backing away, toward my room with one eyebrow lifted. “Let me know if you change your mind, Ry.”

I’m in my room for about ten minutes before I hear footsteps enter. I almost think it’s Ryan, desperate for me to pierce his penis, but then I hear female voices, followed by nervous laughter.

I look up to see two dark haired girls standing in the doorway. They look scared, as if I’m going to bite them or something. You have to love the innocent ones so early in the morning.

“Alright, but you’re going first. It was your idea, Kim,” the shorter brunette says to her friend as she shoves her into the room.

“Hey, ladies.” I greet them while jumping up to my feet and walking to stand in front of Kim. “So you’re my first victim of the day? Where do you want it?” I look at her flawless skin and decide to have a little fun with her. I’m not fully awake yet and could use a little entertainment. It’s going to be a long shift. “Your nipples or your clit?”

Kim’s eyes widen along with her friend’s.

“Neither!” The other girl quickly blurts while closing her legs and clearing her throat. “That’s not all you do is it?”

I cross my arms over my chest and give them a long, serious look, making them tense up even more before breaking out into a playful smile.

“It’s a joke. Don’t get your cotton panties in a wad. I’m just having a little fun.” I uncross my arms and usher them further inside. “I’ll pierce anything you want, those two places included.”

I open my drawers and start reaching for the needed tools. If I had to guess—these girls are here to get their bellybuttons pierced. I can tell almost eighty percent of the time where the target is, before they even open their mouths.

“I was ah . . . just hoping to get my bellybutton pierced.” Kim looks to her friend and reaches for her arm, pulling her closer. “Amy too.”

No surprise there . . .

I sit down in my stool and spin around to give Ryan the middle finger as he attempts to enter the room. He throws his arms up in defeat and backs away, knowing not to mess with me this early in the morning. “Take a seat victim number one, Kim was it?” I look at her with a small smile. “Victim number two, hold Kim’s hand. I have a feeling she might need it.”