Page 56 of Church Girl
Pressing the pedal and turning the tattoo machine back on, I bend over and add a little more shading to the folds in the dress. Minutes later, I finish cleaning off the tattoo with green soap, admiring my work. It’s gorgeous. Ain’t no point in being modest about the shit. I’m damn good—hell, one of the best. After over twenty years of doing this, shit, I better be.
“Aight, Ms. Iman. I’m finished. You can have a look before I wrap it up.”
She stands, stretching and rolling her shoulders after sitting for three hours. Turning around to me, she smiles, and it lights up her pretty face. “I can’t thank you enough, Von. I’m so excited to see what that tattoo looks like.”
Returning her smile, I motion toward the full-length mirror in the corner of my room. “Over here.” I pick up a handheld mirror from my shelf and follow her across the room. When she turns, I hand it to her.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, staring into the reflection, studying the tatted image of her mother. As Iman lifts her bright, misty eyes to me, a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment crowds into my chest.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her fingers covering her mouth. “Thank you so much, Von. It’s simply beautiful andher. God, it looks just like her.” Her lashes flutter, and a soft sob slips out. But when she meets my gaze again, that smile curves her lips, and her eyes, though wet with tears, are gleaming. “I can’t express how much this means to me. Thank you again.”
“Of course. It was my pleasure. I’m honored to do it for you.” Taking the mirror from her, I cross the room and grab the ointment and plastic wrap. “Let me wrap it up for you.”
Minutes later, Iman stands at the front desk with instructions on aftercare and a tube of ointment, waiting for Malcolm to take her payment. Giving her one last wave, I return to my room and thoroughly sanitize it. My next appointment doesn’t arrive for another couple of hours, and it’s an original piece.
Picking up my Surface Pro, I sink down on my stool and turn the tablet on, navigating to the design I’ve been working on for a week. I frown down at it. My client requested a back piece that I’m doing the outline for today. We’ll set up another appointment for the color. That’s not the issue. The design is.
Usually, this part of the creative process is my favorite. After all, my love of art is what brought me to tattooing in the first place. My client wants an elephant. That’s her only stipulation, leaving the other elements, such as the tattoo style, all up to me. I continue studying the design, trying to pinpoint what’s bothering me. What about it Idon’tlove. Because if I can’t stand behind it, there’s no way the piece is going on someone.
A knock sounds on my closed door, and without removing my gaze from the screen, I call out, “Yeah?”
“Hey, Von, your nanny’s here,” Malcolm says.
Thatsnatches my attention from the art piece.
“What’s that silly-ass smile for?” I snap, and his mouth only widens into a big grin. No fucking respect. “Y’know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Send Liyah back. She’s only here waiting on G.”
And why did I feel the need to explain anything to him?
“So it’sLiyahnow, huh?” He arches an eyebrow. “You know I’ve been meaning to ask if you had a good time at Inferno. I mean, after you disappeared on us to go chill withLiyah.”
“Malc, don’t get thrown around this room, aight?” I glare at him.
“Fine, fine.” He holds up both hands, but that grin remains. “I’ll just go get your nanny. Just let baby girl know if she ever wants to join us at the strip club again, I don’t mind making it rain—”
“I swear fo’ God, Malcom...”
“Aight, aight! I’m going!” He laughs, backing out of the tattoo room, leaving the door cracked.
Moments later, Aaliyah appears in the doorway, hovering there as if she’s torn between coming in or running in the other direction. I’m a little glad she’s hesitating. It gives me a minute to get myself together, seeing her for the first time since Saturday night.
And gotdamn, do I need that minute.
It’d been two days since I’d had my fingers in her mouth, sliding over her tongue and tapping the back of her throat. Two days since feeling that juicy clit jump under my fingers. Two days since fucking in my truck like horny-ass teens and she’d come all over my dick and I’d painted her pussy with my seed.
And in not one of those days, minutes or seconds had I forgotten anything that happened between us. Not her delicate, intoxicating scent and taste. Not each whimper, groan or catch of her breath. Not the slick, soft glide of her pussy. Everything clung to me like a cranky kid, not leaving me in peace. I’ve been both dreading and looking forward to today.
Dreading because I would have to stand ten toes down on what I told her in my truck after my heart decided to crawl up out of my ass from that nut. What we’d done was a mistake and shouldn’t be repeated. Regardless of my dick wanting to find itself back inside her slick, tight walls, I can’t go there again. Have to somehow flip this back to the status quo.
And yet I’d looked forward to seeing her again. Something about that pretty face, those gorgeous eyes that I now know can gleam with lust and still somehow retain their air of innocence. Something about that peaceful yet ferocious spirit that could be a lamb one second and a lioness in the next.
Maybe the smartest thing to do would’ve been to let the nanny agency find her another job. It for damn sure would’ve been the safest. But just like Saturday night, just the thought of someone else caring for Gia...just thinking about walking into my house and not seeing Aaliyah’s shyly smiling face... Yeah, no. Call me selfish, but I meant what I said. I would’ve ridden to Aaliyah’s cousin’s place, tossed her ass over my shoulder and hauled her back to my house.
Just ’cause I can’t have her doesn’t mean me and Gia can’thaveher.
She shouldn’t have taken up for my little girl. That sealed her fate.
“Why’re you standing in the doorway like you stole something?” I cock my head. “Come on in, ma. Gia isn’t here yet. She should be on her way. Her mom’s bringing her.”
