Page 64 of Stone: The Precursor

“But I don’t want you to do it, dammit. I want Onyx to do it!”

“Too fucking bad.”

“No, not too bad. I’m going somewhere else. You’re not the only tattoo shop around.”

She tries to walk around me and capture her hand again and bring her closer, as close as I dare, before I strip her naked right here and fuck her in full view of anyone who might walk in. “You want a tattoo, then by all means, let’s give you tattoo. One you won’t forget.” I pull her towards my office, full of rage. No man, and I repeat no one, is getting close to her pussy. I’ll kill him on the spot. Onyx is my brother, beyond blood, but the thought of him touching her skin, getting that close to her pussy is a fuckno. Whether I can have her or not, Camryn’s first ink will be mine.

Chapter 33

“Take off your skirt.”

“Excuse me?” Stone closes the door and sits down at a utilitarian desk, angrily ripping out a piece of paper.

“Your skirt. Off.”

Oh fuck. I didn’t think this through. I swallow. “Why? My skirt is short enough. I can just pull it up.”

“No.”

“Well then let me get some shorts,” I say, ready to head back upstairs.

“Listen, Countess. I don’t have all fucking day for you to play dress up. Either take off the skirt or this is done.”

“Jerk,” I mumble under my breath.

“What are you scared of? I’ve seen a pussy before. A naked one or one covered in panties doesn’t make a fucking difference. This is just a job for me. Money in the bank.”

He’s angry. Fine. So am I. He’s hijacking my tattoo appointment, and he can kick rocks. But I am also secretly thrilled. I’ll show him that I am not some fucking kid. Can I really do this? With Onyx, I wasn’t thinking about the sexualcomponent of having him touch my inner thigh. But now that Stone is going to do it, my pussy flutters, pulsating.

Yet, I still hesitate. Stone is setting up the tattoo section. He’s spraying the area and then wiping it down. Everything looks coordinated, like a well-oiled machine. He picks up what I assume is the tattoo machine. It’s smaller than I anticipated and cordless. He wraps it with some sort of binding. Another tray comes out. Who knew tattooing was such a major setup?

I touch the button on my jeans skirt, pushing the metal tack button and wiggle the skirt down, off my hips. I neatly fold it and look around for where to put it. His gruff voice makes me jump.

“Put it on that chair in the corner.” I notice the empty chair for the first time and head to the corner. It feels weird to be standing in my T-shirt, thong, and my sneakers. When I head back to him, he’s sitting watching, and I wonder if he was looking at my ass. I wait for his next set of instructions. Is he waiting for me? Should I sit in his chair? He pulls on a pair of blue latex gloves.

“Come closer. I need to shave the area.”

“Shave?” I rear back, confused.

“I need to make sure the stencil doesn’t attach to any hair. You could have stubble.”

My face heats at his words. The concept of him getting close enough to my lady bits to even notice stubble sends my brain into overdrive.

He studies me, hands moving calmly as he continues to set up the small table.

“Fine. Then I can do it.” I hold out my hand, waiting for the razor.

“No. I don’t want to waste time if you don’t clean the area properly.” He twists and picks up a fancy razor that appears to have multiple blades and a few bottles.

I step forward, standing in front of him, wearing my green thong as he sits on a stool. I feel awkward, but I won’t let him bully me into leaving. He can go fuck himself. I stare up at the ceiling, but tense when the wheels of the stool roll closer.

“Open your legs.”

Clenching my teeth, I growl. “They’re already open.”

“Wider, Countess. You wanted this, remember that.”

I scowl, looking down into his drop-dead gorgeous face.