Page 7 of His Red Carnation

“I’m eighteen. I want a red carnation. A small one,” she answered confidently.

What happened to Ferdinand?

“Okay, cool. Where do you want it?” he asked, sitting down on a swivel chair near the reclining chair.

Sloane hesitated, glancing at me for a moment before turning back to him. “Beside my ribcage.”

“Got any example photos? I’ll draw something up for you—just show me what you had in mind.”

I watched as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him. Then it hit me—how the fuck was she going to get a tattoo in that spot without lifting her dress, exposing herself to this shithead?

“Cool. This won’t take long. I’ll draw something up and come back,” he said, quickly walking out. I felt a twinge of nervousness being alone with her again.

“I thought you wanted Ferdinand the Bull?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from where it had been heading.

Sloane shrugged off her cardigan, leaning over slightly, her perky tits stealing my attention for a second.

“That’s my next one. I just wanted something small tonight.”

She stood up and started checking out the tattoo designs framed on the walls.

“Are you going to show me any of yours?” she asked, still not looking at me.

I glanced down at my left forearm. “There’s an anchor here. Pretty self-explanatory.”

She glanced over, her gaze lingering on my arm with a spark of desire.

“How many do you have?” she asked, curiosity all over her face.

I thought for a second. “I don’t know. Over thirty, at least.”

Her eyes widened. “Holy shit. Over thirty? Where are they all?”

Fuck, there goes her eagerness again.

I shrugged. “Everywhere. Mostly my upper half.”

Her eyes scanned my body. My dick involuntarily twitched again.

“You sure you want it on your ribcage? That’s right on the bone. Might hurt a little.”

Her eyes flicked to my lips before meeting mine. “I can handle a little pain.”

Did she fucking know what she was doing to me? Did she know I’d imagine her bent over, slapping her ass and pulling her hair?

“I’m sure you can,” I muttered, keeping a straight face.

No, you fucking idiot. Don’t flirt back with her.

She smiled shyly at me.So, she can dish it out, but she can’t take it? Oh fuck that, I’d make her take it.

I was saved by the hipster idiot again.

“How’s this?” he asked, handing her a tablet with what I assumed was his drawing.

She smiled at him, and it made me jealous as fuck. “Perfect.”

He pulled out a flat, cushioned table and started laying a paper sheet over it. I noticed Sloane standing there, looking uneasy.

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