WickedSeduction (10 page)

On the day of Marnie’s first inking, Tor brought her to the
parlor hours before the rest of the staff would arrive. He left the lights off
in front and headed for the counter. “You need to fill out the forms before we
can begin. Shouldn’t take more than two or three hours.”

He lifted a stack of papers, showing them to her.

Uh-huh. “Maybe we should wait until Jasmina or Lauren get
here. They might know a shortcut.”

Tor gave her a wounded look. “What fun would there be in
that?”

None, as far as Marnie was concerned. “I’ll do whatever you
want.”

“Sure? What I want could take days.”

Sounded like a plan. “Before we do anything, show me where
my portraits are going to go on the wall of fame.”

She went to the area where Lauren displayed his and Van
Gogh’s work, all of the art magnificent. Tor’s was startlingly creative, his
use of color and shading for his portraits like nothing she’d seen. Van Gogh’s
paintings reminded her of his namesake—wild bursts of color, the images
slightly surreal. As Marnie regarded the pieces, she munched on one of the
pasteles Tor had gotten from his uncle’s restaurant, the puff pastry filled
with cream cheese, glazed with sugar. An orgasm of taste in each bite.

Tor came up behind her. “I’m thinking about putting your
stuff on easels outside.” He slipped his arms around her waist.

Marnie leaned into him, loving his solid strength, heat and
clean fragrance. She lifted her pastry, offering him a taste. “The portraits
are so awesome, tourists might steal them.”

“I can outrun any visitor, especially in the heat.” With his
hand wrapped around her wrist, he took a bite of the pastele. “They screw with
your portraits, they’ll find out what a mean mother I can be.”

Perfect for a badass woman. Marnie turned into him, brushing
her lips over his, both of their mouths bearing traces of the glaze. They
kissed, tasting each other, moaning softly.

Someone whistled long and loud.

Marnie flinched. She and Tor turned to the front window. On
the walk outside, two teenage boys gave them thumbs-up, both of the kids
laughing.

Tor leaned down to her ear and whispered, “We better take
this in the back.”

“Or charge admission.”

“There’s a plan. I’m always looking for ways to make more
money.”

She finished the last of the pastele, holding back when he
tried to lead her to the counter. “You’re sure doing my tats isn’t cutting into
your time or earnings too much?”

“Positive.” He swooped down to kiss her briefly even though
the boys had moved on. “All I ask is you don’t scream from the pain while I’m
inking you. Passing out is optional.”

“Pain?”

He studied her face. “Didn’t anyone tell you this might hurt?
I will be using needles.”

Somehow, Marnie hadn’t considered the uncomfortable part of
the process.

“Hey,” he said, smiling suddenly. “I’m only kidding.
Stupidly, I can see.” Sobering, he cupped her face. “There will be some
discomfort around the areas that don’t have a lot of meat on them, your knee
and elbow mainly. But the feeling is more like a paper cut, or a prick from a
needle, not a, ah…”

He didn’t finish, embarrassment flooding his features.

Marnie guessed he’d been ready to say getting a tattoo
wasn’t like being stabbed with a large knife. She felt worse for him than she
did for herself. “Hey, let’s get something clear from the start. It’s okay to
mention what happened to me.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and
squeezed gently. “Maybe if my relatives had acknowledged what my mother was
going through, things might not have gotten so bad. No reason to pretend the
past didn’t happen. Only makes things worse. Remember, I’m not going to break.”

“Did you forget I might?”

Smiling, she dropped her hand and smacked his ass. “You’re
tougher than that. Come on, let’s get this baby started. Wait.” She stopped him
before he could grab the paperwork from the counter. “What part of me are you
going to start on?”

“Before or after you take off your clothes?”

Marnie bumped her shoulder against his. “Be serious. You’re
going to strip too, right?”

Tor laughed. “I think this might be the best session I’ll
ever have.” He gave her a bear hug, rocking Marnie back and forth.

With her cheek pressed against his shoulder, she embraced
him in return. Several seconds had passed when she caught movement in her
peripheral vision—a glimpse of someone turning away quickly from the front
window and moving past. Wasn’t one of the boys who’d been outside earlier. From
the brief glance she’d had, the build belonged to a man.

Watching them?

To have a couple of kids acting goofy over seeing a kiss was
one thing. Having an adult peeping at her and Tor was kind of creepy.

“Let’s go in the back,” she said, not wanting to draw a crowd.

Tor’s station smelled of disinfectant, the area scrupulously
clean, the same as her mother’s kitchen had always been.

She sat next to his desk, the bag of pastries on her lap.
Marnie considered what she’d said earlier about mentioning the past—the truth
will set you free and all that. Big talk from someone who was afraid to reveal
what she’d gone through with Ethan. The signs she’d refused to see. A quick
temper. Being slow to forgive. Finding fault. Not a lot at first, minor stuff
she didn’t notice until his criticisms were never-ending, the same as her
father with her mother.

Yeah, that’s what she hadn’t told Tor, and how she still
lived her life in the shadows. In the back of her mind Marnie always wondered
where Ethan was, what he was doing, what he had planned.

Tor touched her wrist. She jumped.

“Whoa,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Marnie was doing a fine job herself without any help from
him. “You didn’t. We ready?”

“Not until you do this.” He tapped the paperwork he’d put in
front of her, then inclined his head at a pen to the side. She’d been so deep
in thought she hadn’t noticed him offering either item.

“I know it’s a bitch,” he said, “but either you fill out the
forms, or the state will have my balls.”

Marnie cupped them through his jeans, loving how weighty and
warm they were. “Not while I’m around.”

Tor blew out the breath he’d just taken. “Sounds good to
me.” After easing her hand from him, he kissed her knuckles and sank to one
knee at her side. “You’re sure about this? You seem kind of scared. No
judgment, simply an observation.”

Marnie kissed his cheek, smiling at his stubble, at him
remembering not to shave. “I don’t want to be anywhere else. Let me get through
this stuff. Get your things ready while I do. Where should I put these?” She
held up the bag.

Tor put the treats in one of the cabinets. “For later, if
you’re good.”

“Sure you want me to be?”

He wagged his finger at her, offered a smile and set to
work. After disinfecting the already clean area where he was going to work, Tor
washed his hands.

Marnie smiled. “You’re beginning to remind me of McDreamy on
Grey’s Anatomy.”

“My hair’s better.”

Hell, everything about him was.

Once he’d dried off, he gathered a series of packages Marnie
guessed held sterile needles and pulled a pair of dark latex gloves from a
dispenser on the wall.

This was really going to happen. Excitement and a bit of
anxiety raced through her. “I’d like this to be totally private.”

“No problem.” He pushed the door shut with his foot and
continued his preparations.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, Marnie filled in the
necessary blanks on the papers, pausing at the one for her driver’s license
number. She was ready to write ‘don’t drive’, when she decided to provide the
number. No way could the information lead Ethan to her, if he was even looking
any longer.

Marnie hoped to God he wasn’t.

She moved on to the medical history next, a series of
yes-or-no questions regarding allergies, current medications, STDs, blood
diseases and the like.

Finished, she turned to Tor. His gaze was already on her,
affection and desire in his eyes.

“If you’re ready,” he said, “you need to take off your top.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She pulled off the peasant blouse she’d worn the first time
Tor had seen her. The other day, he’d explained how loose sleeves were better
than snug ones against a new tattoo—if she didn’t have a sleeveless top. Marnie
hadn’t owned one since she’d turned twelve. Shorts either. Gym in high school
had been torture, considering the uniform she’d had to wear. Even though none
of the other girls had made fun, she’d seen them staring.

She looked at the scars on her arm now, horribly obvious in
the harsh light. Although stitches had closed the gaping wounds—as they’d had
on her leg—the treatment had left maroon fissures in some areas, puffy and
uneven skin in others, some of her flesh stark white. A world of difference
from her natural complexion.

Tor didn’t say anything. He gave her space and time, merely
turning on the sound system, keeping the volume low on a sultry Latin tune from
a group she hadn’t heard before.

Marnie swayed her hips to the hypnotic beat. “Nice. I like.”

“Me too.” He stared at her bra.

Another new one Marnie had bought in preparation for today.
The cups were mint green with cream-colored lace at the top, barely hiding her
nipples. Suddenly, she felt playful. “Want me to sit on your lap?”

Tor laughed quietly. “The chair might be best. I don’t want
to make a mistake and have your tat looking like the ones on Van Gogh’s arms.”

Good point. Van Gogh looked as if he’d been in the middle of
a gangland war. She settled in the chair, trembling slightly at the cool
leather against her skin. “Whoa, cold, but I’m good.”

“I know. Talk if you want. Fall asleep. Whatever makes you
comfortable.”

“I’d like to watch. Seeing you work fascinates me.”

Smiling, Tor pulled on his gloves and shaved her arm where
the tattoo would be, finishing up by disinfecting the same area with a liquid
smelling of alcohol. While her skin was drying, he held up a thin piece of paper
with the design he’d created for her.

“You’re good with this?” he asked. “Don’t want any changes?”

“No way. Your work looks even better today than when you had
it hanging on your wall.”

Tor chuckled. “The tat will be great on your skin. This is
transfer paper,” he said, glancing at the design. “One side is shiny, the other
dark. I’m going to lay the dark side on your arm to transfer the design.”

“Thus the name.”

“Bingo. You’re a fast learner.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re babying me.”

“Not yet, but I will.” He lowered the design. “I’m going to
dampen your skin a bit so the paper sticks. Won’t hurt at all.”

With his hand wrapped around her upper arm and his fingers
stroking the other areas with a damp cloth, Marnie was relaxed, heading toward
arousal. “Wow. If I’d known the process would be this wonderful, I would have
come in earlier.”

“I’m glad you’re here now.”

She was too.

“Okay, I’m ready to transfer the design to your arm,” he
said. “If you move, the ink will smear. Keep as still as you can.”

“I will, I swear.” She even held her breath.

Gently, Tor pressed the paper to her arm, touching every
part of the design, his expression intense with concentration. When she finally
had to take a breath, Marnie did so carefully.

“Done.” He peeled the paper off her and nodded. “Looks good.
Go to the mirror over there and check it out. Make sure the design’s as large
as you want and in the position you prefer.”

Marnie regarded the purplish ink on her arm, stunned at how
the image he’d drawn from memory hid her scars. She held back a squeal of joy.
“Looks great. The artwork’s perfect.”

“Better watch what you say or you’ll be giving me a swelled
head.”

She turned. “Not without my mouth, hands, or pussy I won’t.”

Tor lowered his face, though not before she caught his blush.

“Lucky no one’s here,” he said. “And we have the door
closed.”

“There are still the security monitors.” After blowing a
kiss at the camera, Marnie turned to him. “Want to wave?”

“No need. I’m erasing the images as soon as we’re through.
Today’s for you and me.”

Absolutely. She sank back into the chair. “What now?”

“I do the outline today, nothing else. Since this is your
first time, I don’t want to tax you, and not because I’m afraid you’re going to
break. You’re a virgin at this. Color will come after you heal. Two weeks
probably, though you might take longer. We’ll have to see. Next Wednesday, I’ll
do your leg. While that outline is healing, your arm should be good to go the
following Wednesday. However, as I said, I don’t want to rush anything. You
don’t want your design to get screwed up and I sure as hell don’t want to cause
you unnecessary pain.”

“You haven’t. You won’t. I’m good with whatever you say. I’m
amazed I get to be a virgin again.”

He winked. “Let’s get started.”

Although Tor was confident in his skill and could
practically ink blindfolded, working on Marnie made him jittery as hell. Kind
of like a surgeon operating on a loved one. If the person beneath the knife—or
needle in this case—was a stranger, the stakes didn’t seem as high. Mistakes
were understandable, as long as they were minor and went unnoticed by the
client.

With Marnie, Tor wouldn’t allow anything except perfection,
which slowed his progress to a crawl. Each time she breathed, he froze,
thinking he’d hurt her.

“Are you hot?” she asked.

Not particularly. If anything, Tor felt oddly numb, except
for his hammering heart. If he kept this up,
she’d
have to baby
him
tonight. “No. Why?”