Page 111 of G.O.D.S Omnibus

Chester

Poor naïve Jolie—I warned her I’m fucked in the head.

You don’t spend years longing for someone that you can’t touch without finding other ways to channel that emotion. Tattooing was a good way for me to do that. I could always draw well, and when Kai came back to Olympia one day with a tattoo machine, we spent hours practising. However, I knew what I felt was different when Creed let me do his first tattoo. The intimacy of it all made me feel things I shouldn’t have felt for Creed at that moment. He is turned on by pain, and his erection caught my eye during that first sitting. We were teenagers at the time, and I needed to fuck, the impulse hitting me so hard out of nowhere that I couldn’t explain it. Over the years, I’ve only ever tattooed Creed. He gets it, shit happens, and to us it isn’t a big deal.

Jolie struts into the room in a damn sports bra and a loose pair of sweats. Her dark-chocolate hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun. I instantly get hard seeing how high her titsare pushed up, the sports bra looking like it’s about to bust at the seams. I won’t lie—from the moment she returned, all I’ve wanted to do is bend her over and fuck her senseless. Which I refuse to do unless she fully understands that once she gives in to me, I won’t be able to control the beast.

Loving someone shouldn’t consume you; it’s toxic if it does. I’m smart enough to know that. I also know that I’m powerless to stop if that’s what she wants. We have so many secrets between us, and I want to tell her everything, but Brennan insists she isn’t ready. She doesn’t trust us, and honestly, she has a good reason not to. But if she doesn’t trust us, she’s going to try to use us, and that won’t be healthy for me or her. Once I lay claim to her, she will have to kill me to stop me from being near her; she could run, but I would hunt her down and bring her back, even against her will.

“Where do you want me?” she asks. I smirk at her. If she knew what was going on in my head, she wouldn’t want to know the answer to that. She rolls her eyes, and her hands go to her hips. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” I retort, waggling my eyebrows.

She huffs and mutters curses under her breath.

“Lay down on the table.”

I’ve spent the last ten minutes cleaning and disinfecting the surface. Not that anyone has ever been tattooed in here. Creed helped me set up the room over the last few days, but it’s nothing overly fancy. The walls are painted a light grey, with lights bright enough to be able to see the finest of details—always important when it comes to tattooing. A rolling toolbox is against the furthest wall from the door, and it contains all the inks, needles, and tattooing equipment. Situated in the centre of the room is the table that I have directed her towards. It’s a multipurpose table that converts to a chair, depending on where we will be laying the ink. There is also a rolling stool to make movingaround easier, which is where my ass is currently planted, hoping she doesn’t notice the raging hard-on I’m sporting.

Really, this room was set up for Kai, since he actively tattoos students of Olympia. The guy has a damn waiting list booked months in advance.

She gets herself up onto the table and lays back. I try not to stare at her like a fucking weirdo, but the way her body moves draws my eyes to her skin.

“I drew a picture—it’s similar to the ones on the guys.” Snapping myself out of being creepy, I pick up the image and hand it to her.

A smile pulls at her lips as her eyes go glassy, and I hate that we have made her feel this way. Everything we’ve ever done has been for her, and I wish it hadn’t turned out like this. We finally get our damn Angel back and she’s more perfect than ever. She may think she is damaged, but all that means is she’s broken enough that she can really see us for who we are. There’s no longer a need for us to hide that part from her.

“It’s perfect. You’re so talented.”

“Don’t start with the compliments; my cock is already hard enough as it is.”

She turns, looking down at my crotch. I’d finally gotten it to go down somewhat, but my semi goes into raging bull mode with her eyes on him. Like he knows the girl who was created for him is in the room.

I take the image back and get the stencil ready. Once we have it in place and everything is set up, I try to even my breathing. I can already feel the excitement coursing through my veins at a rapid speed. My nipples go hard and the friction of them rubbing against my shirt isn’t helping my cause.

“How come you and Creed fuck when you tattoo him?”

Okay, she isn’t holding back with the questions. “Can you feel that rush of adrenaline shooting through your veins right now?”

“Yes.”

“I feel what you feel. I see auras and feel the emotions attached to someone. Creed was the first person I tattooed, and that might have been my first mistake since he liked the pain. The intense pleasure he was feeling was like a drug. As for fucking him, we just act on how we’re feeling. Maybe you can watch and see for yourself.”

Her eyes go wide, and she bites her lip. I can tell she’s picturing us together and fuck if that doesn’t do wicked things to me.

“What if someone is scared or just has no reaction?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t tattoo anyone else. It became too intimate of a process for me, and I haven’t wanted to do it to anyone else.”

“Yet you agreed to tattoo me, even though I don’t plan on screwing you.”

“I did, Little Angel, but let’s hold back the ‘not fucking me’ part. We haven’t even started yet.”

She snorts at my comment.

“Laugh all you like,” I murmur, running my finger along her collarbone. “I know pain turns you on or you wouldn’t have gone near Laughn. You wait until you feel the first little pop when the needle pierces the skin, as small droplets of blood are drawn to sit on the surface. The constant burn as I continue over already inked areas, and when you relax, the surge of endorphins that’ll flow through your veins. I’ll see it—your body won’t be able to lie to me.”

“How do auras work?” she asks, as I snap on a pair of black rubber gloves and start the machine. The buzzing reverberates through the room, and I feel the change in her almost immediately—anticipation. I take a deep, centring breath to try to hold myself together.

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