Page 77 of The Dom with the Clever Tongue

Scarlet looked at Mal again, and wondered how she’d ended up letting him drive her truck. She didn’t even let Reece do that. She was getting too used to sharing control with him.

Malachi pulled up to park in front of the building, close to where the couple sat. He hopped out and went around the truck to open the doors for her and Reece. Really? Was this the 1950s?

Chuckling, she slid out of the truck and grabbed Reece’s hand as he shut the doors behind them. Instead of going right into the tattoo shop, he ambled over to the coffee drinkers, beckoning for them to follow.

He made introductions, and Scarlet couldn’t help but notice the assessment in the couple’s eyes. It wasn’t a simple curiosity about what their relationship was with each other and to Malachi – they seemed to be looking for something else.

“Showing them the shop?” Winter took a sip of her coffee. It was such a normal activity and comment from a woman that looked like she’d just stepped out of a mutant superhero movie. Her hair was bleached pure white, which was especially creepy with the pale blue of her eyes. The facial piercings looked appropriate and went with her black tee that had a picture of Eddie Munster on it.

Mack, on the other hand, had dark hair and eyes. He was one of the prettiest men that Scarlet had ever seen, with high cheekbones and a sensual mouth, but there was something about him that screamed danger. Creepy, kinky danger. After Reece had taken a good look at him, she slid partially behind Scarlet, as though her Domme would protect her from the scary man.

“Yes,” Malachi answered. “Scarlet is getting her first tattoo.”

“A tattoo virgin? Don’t worry, it’s not that bad.” Mack smiled, but instead of being comforting it was chilling.

Winter laughed. “You say that about everything. And I can assure you, some of it is very bad.” She seemed to realize what she’d said, and she looked back at Scarlet. “Not tattoos, though. They don’t hurt much at all.”

“The experience is relative, but I have a feeling Scarlet will manage it fine,” Malachi said meaningfully.

Winter collapsed back against the bench seat. “Phew. Safe to talk? That was all the vanilla I had in me.”

Malachi barked a laugh. “That was like, two sentences, Winter. You need to practice talking to other people.”

She shrugged. “Most people who come into the shop are either kinky or kink friendly. The rest of the time we’re either jamming or I’m tied down to something. My social skills are a little rusty.” Her tone turned sarcastically adoring. “Mack says my ball gag makes me pretty.”

“I’m surprised you’re hanging around here. You closed shop at five, didn’tyou?”

“Yeah. We were supposed to meet a guy here to drive him out to the house. We’re still looking for a drummer. The last few have sucked ass.”

“Easier to have them follow you out than give them directions?”

“Yeah, no doubt. Sending him out without a guide is mean. We’ll give him another few minutes then head out.”

The wind was picking up off the ocean, making Scarlet wish she’d brought a hoodie. “Hope he shows.”

“Thanks.” Winter grimaced. “Me too. We have a bet going, and you don’t want to know what Mack gets to do to me if the guy’s a no-show.”

The latter wound a finger into Winter’s hair and gave it a gentle tug. “Little does she know, I paid him to fuck off,” he rasped.

The girl shivered.

“Okay Morticia and Gomez. Try not to freak out nice people just going for a stroll. I’m going to get this tattoo started before I fall asleep in the middle of it.”

“Yep.”

Malachi flicked his fingers in the semblance of a wave and walked on. The street was still empty, and Scarlet wasn’t sure whether to feel bad or excited for Winter. From the look the girl had on her face, it seemed she didn’t know how to feel either.

“Good luck,” Reece said, looking at Winter.

Mack chuckled darkly. “She’ll need it.”

By the time they caught up with Malachi, he’d unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. The tattoo shop was bigger than Scarlet had expected, with modern furnishings and clean lines. Pieces of framed art lined the walls.

“Did you do all of these, yourself?” Reece asked, moving slowly from one frame to the next.

“Most of them. Gemma did this one and the one over there.” The one they were looking at was a detailed, realistic-looking gargoyle.

“That’s based on the first tattoo she did for me, the day she was hired. Cross was the guinea pig.” He laughed. “Little did I know what I was getting them into by arranging that.”

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