AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I squinted and scrunched my nose in confusion. “Um, Barrett…”
He disappeared into the bathroom. “What?”
The loud echo of him relieving himself broke the silence. I scratched my head, truly confused by what I thought I just saw. “Were we playing with markers last night?”
“Huh?” The toilet flushed.
“Markers?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I searched the disaster area of the floor for clues. Any evidence of the last twelve hours would be helpful at this point. “There’s, um, something on your back.”
“Wha—” He went silent and I imagined him twisting to see the reflection of his back in the mirror. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” Barreling out of the bathroom, face furious, flaccid dick swinging like Gonzo’s nose, he charged toward me. “What the fuck is on my back, Rayne?”
My gaze bolted to the ceiling. “For the love of God, my eyes!”
He circled like a dog chasing its tail. “Is it a fucking tattoo? I need you to look.”
“No!” His voice stabbed into my brain like a rogue javelin. “It has to come off.”
“Please.”
Unable to refuse his worried plea, I lowered my gaze. “For the last time, cover yourself! It’s like being in a room with a baby elephant!”
“I need you to look!”
“Then turn around and stop showing me your dick!”
He snickered. “Are you honestly this prude or are you afraid you’re marrying the wrong Davenport?”
“Yeah, I really want the one with a tramp stamp.”
His face paled and he turned, walking backward as he pointed his bare ass at me. “Fuck. Tell me it’s not real.”
“Ew! Stay back!”
“I need you to look closer.”
I instinctively scurried away, pulling the hotel chair between us. “Stop pointing private parts at me!”
“For fuck sake!” He snatched my dress off the bed and shoved it over his crotch.
“Not my dress!”
“I need you to look at my fucking ass!” He shoved the chair away and pointed his butt at me. That was not the work of markers.
“Oh, Barrett.”
“What? What is it?” Now, his voice was the shrill one. “Is it bad?”
The raised, red skin surrounding the inked image looked fresh and irritated. “I think I’m starting to remember.” Yup. It was coming back to me.
“What is it, Meyers?” He twisted trying to see the mark through his blind panic. “I cannot have a fucking tramp stamp! My body is my livelihood!”
I nodded, my brow knit with empathetic regret but my instinct was to laugh so I pressed my lips tight. “I… I think… I think you wanted it.”
“I’m a fucking model! My flawless figure is my instrument!”
