Page 22 of Royally Twisted

Epilogue

The sound of a Harleypulling up had Tymber looking out the window of his tattoo shop, Twisted Ink. Ember and Lincoln, his two best friends and business partners glanced up as he muttered “Fuck me!” He was sure his tongue had more than likely hit the floor, right along with his tattoo gun at the sight of Ivy climbing off her bike. He stared, mouth agape as she turned her back to his shop, her ass in a pair of tight fitting jeans that molded to her curves like they’d been painted on, while she bent and placed her skull cap on one of her handlebars. Fuck, he wanted to run his hands over every dip and...he pulled his mind away from what he wanted to do with Ivy. Having a major hard-on wouldn’t be on his list of things to do in the middle of his shop, especially with Ember and Lincoln staring at him.

He turned to see if they noticed, but both of their eyes were trained on his woman, making him all kinds of irrational. The first thing his caveman instinct wanted to do was punch both men in the nose, rendering their ability to look their fill null and void. The second thing his inner Neanderthal wanted to do, was rush to the door and take her back to his place where he could strip her naked and do all the dirty things he’d fantasized about. Instead, Tymber tossed a balled up bunch of paper toweling toward Ember, who happened to be closest to him, before striding toward the front door to meet Ivy. “Be on your best behavior, assholes,” he warned.

“I’m always the best,” Ember agreed, wagging his tongue obscenely, his tongue ring glinting in the light.

Lincoln grunted. “You’re only the best when I’m not involved, then you’re second best. Don’t cry like a bitch though, it’s hard to compete with all this.” Lincoln grabbed his crotch.

Tymber stopped before opening the door, seeing their antics through the reflection in the window. “Nope, not happening. You two are not going to scare her off. She’s...special,” he breathed.

Ember tossed his hands in the air, the man laying on his table laughed. “Don’t even say it, jackass.” Ember pointed the tattoo gun toward the guy, silencing him. “Of course she’s special, brother. All you’ve done since you’ve met her is talk about her. We’ve been waiting for her to come back ever since you inked her the first time.” He crossed his big brawny arms that were covered in tattoos, his emerald green eyes narrowed.

Tymber shrugged but didn’t respond right away, his stare going outside. Ivy and he had spent the last few weeks getting to know each other better, solidifying their relationship. He’d known within a very short time she was the woman for him, and she had said the same about him. Shit, she’d fallen asleep under his tattoo gun while he’d been inking her ribs, a spot that was usually tender, yet Ivy had not only not made a peep, she’d fallen asleep, hard.

He pulled the door open but glanced backward. “I know. I’d apologize for not having her come by sooner, but I’d be lying. I didn’t want to share our time together just yet.”

Lincoln laughed. “You got it bad, boy.”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed as he walked out meeting Ivy on the sidewalk. “Hey, gorgeous. What’re you up to?” Before she could answer, he tugged her into his arms, the need to feel her lips under his overrode all other thoughts. He been sure his caveman instincts were in check. Clearly, he was wrong. If they’d been behind closed doors, he was positive he’d have had the both of them naked, or at least minus enough clothing he could’ve been buried in her sweet pussy. However, the sound of a car honking brought his head up.

“Hey,” she whispered.

He lifted his hand to trace the moisture left on her lips from his kiss. “Hey yourself.” Unable to let her go, he kept his arms locked around her waist. “Do you have any clue how fucking sexy you look sitting on your bike, getting off your bike, and hell, even standing next to it? I think I’ve come up with a dozen fantasies of you and me, fucking on my bike.”

She grinned. “Why’s it on your bike? I thought you said I was sexy on my bike?”

His right hand trailed down to her ass, cupping one cheek in his palm. “Baby, I’d fuck you on either one of our bikes, but I think my seat is a little bigger, making it much more accommodating for what I have in mind.” His dick jerked beneath his denim, letting him know he was more than willing to give it a go. When he’d first met her he had no clue she even owned a bike, yet after finding out she was associated closely with the Royal Sons MC, she had been gifted one years ago by King, the President. Ivy thought, since Luke’s death the club would take her bike, the same way they’d taken Luke’s. King, being the standup guy Tymber knew him to be wouldn’t hear of it.

“Jesus, you make my panties wet just thinking about it.” She pressed her forehead against his chest, shivering in his embrace.

Tymber loved how responsive she was to his words and touch. Since the first time they’d made love, she never shied away from whatever he suggested. His girl liked it soft, hard, sweet, or dirty, any way he gave it to her, she enjoyed it. “Come on inside, I have a couple dickheads wanting to say hi.”

Ivy lifted her head. “I came to see if you would ah...give me another tattoo. Remember when we talked about what I wanted?”

His mind raced. One night after they’d made love, she said she wanted to get another tattoo, this one she wanted to see about doing something like the semi-colon, only making it personal. When he’d realized the significance, his mind began working on designs for the suicide symbol, and how he could personalize it for her.

“Yeah, I have a couple drawings for you, but if you don’t like them I can start over.” He brushed his lips over hers again, unable to stop himself. “Come on, let’s take a look.” He took a step back, keeping one arm around her.

Ivy looked at the shop next door. “High Maintenance? I’ve heard of that salon. One of the Old Ladies goes there. I really need a new stylist. Maybe I’ll stop in there one day.” She nodded toward the closed shop with the colorful window front.

“They’re usually open. Not sure what’s up.” Tymber held the door open to his shop, the familiar buzz of the tattoo guns filling the air.

“Yo, Ivy, you ready to leave him for me yet?” Lincoln asked, not looking up from the woman he was tattooing.

Lux snorted. “Sure, she’ll leave the good one for the bad seed.”

“That hurts. Come kiss it better.” Lincoln scooted back and spread his legs.

“Pretty sure that’s sexual harassment.” She pretended to write a note in the air. “Keeping notes, boss man,” she said without heat.

Lincoln grinned. “I really like the way that rolls off your tongue. I want to hear it when you...”

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