Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
The afternoon flies by, and I feel content. I’m in my zone, my happy place, and as Viper’s hand rests on my thigh, I don’t even try to tell him to fuck off. As long as it’s not creeping any higher, I’m good.
Glancing up at the clock, I realize it’s almost seven, and I’ve flown straight past closing time, but so have Big Jim and Crew. It’s not exactly anything out of the ordinary, but usually at five, my stomach starts to bug me for a snack. “How are you doing?” I ask Viper.
“I’m good, baby,” he says, scrolling through his phone as though he were relaxing on the couch at home.
“You don’t need a break or anything?” I ask. “Your call. We can call it a day now and make another appointment for a few weeks, or we can power through. I have maybe another two hours and this’ll be done, but if you need to be somewhere . . .”
“I’ve got all night,” he mutters. “Finish it.”
I nod. “Okay, but I’m ordering in,” I say, sitting up straighter and stretching my back. I glance up at Viper. “Want anything?” I usually make it a rule not to eat in here, and I certainly don’t allow my clients to eat while being inked, but sometimes basic human needs have to be put first. Hell, I’ve made the mistake of inking someone who’d just eaten and ended up wearing his regurgitated noodles. Since then, I’ve made it a habit to ask every single person who sits in my chair if they have a weak stomach. That’s not a mistake I’ll make again, but I’ve been working with Viper long enough to know he can handle it.
“I could eat,” Viper mutters, holding his phone above his head, keeping his body still. “You keep working, I’ll order. What do you want?”
“You pick, I’m easy,” I say.
Viper scoffs. “If you were easy, I would have had you chained to my bed years ago.”
The deepness of his tone sends a shiver sailing right down my spine, and a thrill shoots through me. I’m not exactly someone who’s vanilla when it comes to the bedroom. I need a man who’s not afraid to throw me around, to brace his hand around my throat and squeeze, and something tells me that Viper would more than satisfy me when it came to sex, but on an emotional level, we couldn’t be less suited.
The thought of Viper chaining me up should have me running for the hills, but instead, a twisted smirk settles across my lips. I don’t respond, but I don’t need to. He sees it all over my face. “I fucking knew it, baby,” he growls, his tone low. “One of these days, I’m going to stop taking no for an answer.”
“And one of these days, I might just let you.”
It’s a little before nine when I stand at the front door of High Voltage Ink, locking up with Viper standing behind me. Crew and Big Jim took off an hour ago, though Crew needed a little convincing that I wasn’t about to be screwed within an inch of my life right there in the middle of the shop. I couldn’t tell if it was his ridiculous need to always protect me or out of pure jealousy.
“Let me take you home,” Viper says, inching toward his matte black Harley Davidson.
I scoff as I finish locking up before turning to face him. “You’re kidding, right?”
He gives me a blank stare. “I didn’t mean let me take you home to my place so I can fuck you all night. I meant, let me give you a ride back to your apartment so you’re not walking home through these fucking streets after dark.”
I arch a brow. “You don’t think I can handle myself?”
“Considering the excitement that flashed in your eyes when I said I wanted to have you chained to my bed, I know you can handle yourself, but you’re young, Kyah, and I don’t think you have a damn clue what you want,” he tells me. “I know the people who run these streets, and they’re not anyone I want you bumping into.”
I glance away, peering down the empty street, wondering if I should take my chances. Viper isn’t exactly a saint, and given the chance, he’ll try his luck. “I don’t know,” I murmur. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to know where I live.”
Viper scoffs, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “Baby, I’ve known where you’ve lived since the day you moved in,” he says. “Who the fuck do you think convinced your landlord to turn a blind eye to the fact you were a teenager?”
My eyes widen, and I gape at Viper. “You’re lying.”
“Do I strike you as the type to lie?”