Page 3 of Saint
“With that being said, I would love to tattoo you, just not tonight. Would you like to do a consultation instead? Then we can schedule an appointment if you want.”
“Angel said you’re booked for the next two months. I want to get this done as soon as possible before I chicken out.”
I was booked for the next two months, but there was no way I’d walk away from having one of my pieces on her smooth, ebony skin. I looked at it as an honor if anyone chose me as their tattoo artist but Oya, she was a work of art.
“You let me worry about that,” I said. “I can work you in.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, pulling her lip between her teeth.
I resisted the urge to readjust my dick through my jeans. I didn’t believe she even realized how sexy she looked. It almost made me envious. I wanted to be the one to bite them.
“I’m positive,” I reassured her. “It would be my honor.”
“I would like that. Thank you, Saint.”
I wasn’t a praying man anymore despite the name, yet I prayed one day soon I’d hear her sexy ass voice moaning my name.
Reluctantly, I shifted my focus to Angel. “Close the shop. This will be the last client for tonight. And make sure you’re here first thing to open. I’ve got to go to the clubhouse.”
I noticed the look on Oya’s face, but I didn’t acknowledge it. Everyone in town knew Sin City. And most knew the members were in and out of here. I usually wore my cut, but not tonight.And it wasn’t something I elaborated on with clients anyway. If they knew I was a Sinner, they knew. And if they didn’t... that didn’t concern me.
“You got it, boss,” Angel said, doing a mock salute.
“I’ll just stay here with Angel,” her friend said, giving Angel puppy dog eyes like she’d met her soulmate.
He might give her a good fuck, but Angel was wild as hell and had a lot of growing up to do before he jumped into anything deeper.
I had no problem if Raquel stayed up front. I didn’t want Oya distracted if her friend decided to tag along. Consultations were done in private unless the client was totally against it.
“We’ll only be a few minutes,” I said.
“Take all the time you need,” she said while looking between me and Oya, then focusing her attention on Angel.
“Right this way, sweetheart.”
Oya nodded and followed me.
“You have a nice place,” she said as she followed me through the shop. “It doesn’t look like what I thought a tattoo shop would look like.”
“Thank you.”
I was genuinely happy she took notice. Not too many customers did even though I worked hard on it. Reaper accused me of being too anal because I wanted things to look a certain way. According to him, nobody even cared beyond the tattoo. However, I wanted my clients to have an experience when they walked into my place. Instead of having the typical tattoo shop, I wanted a place clients felt comfortable. Getting a tattoo was nerve-wracking for some people and I wanted to help calm their nerves if possible.
Hardwood floors extend throughout the entire building. Each artist had their workstation separated by a partial wall and a curtain that could be kept open or closed, especially if a specific area was being tattooed. Nobody wanted to see somebody’s ass getting inked.
There were six tattoo stations in the main room. Three on each side. At the back wall beside the hallway leading to my office, workstation, employee lounge, and customer restroom, there was a smaller room where all the piercings were done. Track lighting and dark ebony wooden beams accentuated high ceilings. The artwork of the tattoo artists employed at Forbidden Ink covered the pale blue walls, that Reaper gave me hell about. From the walls, floors, lighting, and artwork, all of it tiedtogether the main room of Forbidden Ink. Finally, off to the right, industrial-strength black metal stairs spiraled to a second-floor loft I used if I had late nights and didn’t want to drive home.
We made our way down the hallway, passing my private workspace, to my office. I pushed open the office door, allowing Oya to step through, her arm brushing against my chest. She gave an apologetic smile, and I waved it off.
As she passed me, I got a better look at her. To say she was attractive was an understatement. Her presence was beyond anything I’d ever experienced with any woman. The way she walked, the way she talked, and the way she gazed at me just made me want to drown in everything she offered.
“Have a seat,” I said, sliding behind my desk and pushing down the urge to bend her over it.
She looked around the room. My office wasn’t big, but it had enough space in it where I didn’t feel claustrophobic. Small spaces caused me anxiety. It had been that way since I got out of prison. The brick wall facing my glass desk gave it an urban feel, while the white walls and high ceiling gave the illusion of space to the windowless room.
“So, what do you have in mind?”
She pulled her long hair across her shoulder, then sat in the chair in front of my desk with as much elegance I’d ever seen in a woman.
