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Rock music blared through the speakers. A flat screen was on mute, showing a basketball game somewhere. The walls were muraled with the artists' work. Those pictures were interspersed with snapshots of themselves at tattoo events, or with friends or family. The scent of ink pervaded the establishment.
When she approached the counter, which had a plethora of piercing jewelry on display beneath the glass, she found the inevitable thick books of tattoo ideas. Fortunately, they were categorized so she could find the theme she wanted quickly. In short order, she lifted her head and located an available artist, a wiry but sexy looking biker chick with lots of tatts, piercings and vivid violet eyes provided by contacts. She wore a black tank that exposed her flat belly and low-riding tight jeans. From the Internet site, Regina recalled she was a newer member of the business, but highly rated for her work.
Regina adjusted the book toward her so the woman could see what she was viewing. "I want to choose the one of these that will look best with his existing tattoo." Regina flicked her glance at Marius, bringing him to his feet and to the counter without speaking a word. It swirled something low in her belly. He really was so much more responsive than he realized. "Take off the shirt," she ordered.
While the artist or the others here might not be part of the BDSM scene, the tattoo world lived on the same edges the D/s world did. Regina didn't feel any reservations about exposing what her relationship was to Marius.
They'd cleared the air between them while sitting at the river, and she'd laid the groundwork for taking complete control of a situation like this. Now, as she waited to see how he would respond, her body vibrated in anticipation.
As Marius met her gaze, he had mixed feelings about getting a tattoo she'd chosen. Not opposed, just...fuck, he didn't know what he felt. But he wasn't saying no. Wasn't feeling no, either. Not when she issued a command like she just had, her eyes fixed upon him with that steady Mistress's regard.
As he stripped off his shirt with barely a blink of hesitation, her eyes sparked with the same kind of heat that surged through him in response. The tattoo artist's gaze roved appreciatively over his upper body, but her skill as an artist showed as she zeroed in on his existing tattoo and came closer, her fingers passing over it critically. "Damn fine work. I'm Jillian. I hope you want me to do what I think you want me to do. That's going to be kickass."
She discussed it with Regina as he stood silently listening. He saw Jillian's gaze pass over the collar on his throat, then go back to Regina. While it might just be a passing look, Marius took it as an acknowledgement of his Mistress's obvious lead role of the situation. That made his body tighten with a desire to do things for her that couldn't be done here.
Restraining himself for her only heightened the deep intensity of that feeling, keeping him quiet and in an almost meditative focus on her, a functional subspace he didn't mind experiencing.
But when he was sitting in the chair and the artist had finished the drawn outline, ready to begin the tattoo itself, Regina bent over him, touching her face. "All right with this, sweet boy?"
He glanced at Jillian. "Can you start while I'm kissing her? I want my mouth on hers when I feel the first touch of the needle."
As Regina's eyes flared hot with pleasure, the artist nodded. Though her expression was hard to read, he thought he detected a flicker of female approval. "Just tell me when you're going to stop. Unless you plan on kissing her the whole time," she added dryly.
It wasn't a bad idea. He saw the sensuous laughter in Regina's eyes as his thought obviously reflected her own thinking. Or maybe she just read his face.
Reaching up, he curved his large hand against Regina's delicate throat and brought her down to his mouth, taking a deep, demanding dive into that heated wetness, letting her feel it. He might be a sub, but there were times that need ironically drove him to take over, prove to her just how much testosterone was hers to call. She made a soft little moan, her fingertips curling over his hand, nails digging in. He felt the sharp burn as Jillian began the outline, and kept the kiss going a few seconds longer before he eased his mouth back enough to speak.
"Okay."
The tattoo artist let him readjust, and then resumed. Regina took a seat nearby, where he could look right at her. He didn't say another word; he simply kept his attention on his Mistress as the tattoo artist worked on him.
Regina engaged the other clients and artists in casual conversation without self-consciousness, but her gaze flicked back to him often and stayed, even when she was talking. He could feel it like a touch, meandering down his bare chest and muscled abs, lingering over his groin and thighs under denim. With the result he got fucking hard in front of everyone and wasn't the least bit repentant about it. Especially when he saw her lips curve with the knowledge of what she was doing to him. What she could do to him.
Anything. Anything she wanted. He couldn't wait to get back to the hotel.
The thought consumed him, and had only grown stronger by the time the tattoo was finished. Regina rose and came to inspect the work. Her gaze lifted to his, her brown eyes alight with fire. "Exactly what I wanted," she said in a husky voice.
Jillian positioned a mirror so he could see it better. It was a badass-looking black kitten, one paw raised in play. Yet the positioning made it look as if the small creature had been the one to shred through his skin and expose the armor beneath.
"Your first pet
," Regina said, running a light finger around it. "If you take care of this one, maybe you'll eventually get to take the other one home."
The word hit him hard and low. To conceal his reaction, he looked down and slid his touch, not over the tattoo, but over her fingers. His Mistress was too sharp-eyed, though. She touched his jaw. "Look at me and say what you were thinking."
He shook his head. "I'll just ruin it."
"Say it anyway." Jillian had moved away to do clean up, giving them the illusion of privacy.
"She'll already be home if she's with you," he said. "That's what I want to think of as home. What I wish was my home."
He rose abruptly, reaching for his wallet. "No," Regina said. "I'm paying for this."
He shook his head, closing his hand over her wrist as she reached for her purse, his grip hard enough to catch her attention. "Not this time," he said.
He pulled out a couple crisp hundreds from a small wad of bills, and handed it to Jillian. "Keep the change."
When Marius tucked the wallet back into his pocket, he noted a pair of new arrivals on the scarred metal chairs. Tattoo parlors attracted some rough-looking types, but there was rough-looking cool, like the woman who'd just added to his tattoo, and rough-looking criminal. They could be wearing the same look of tattoos, piercings, jeans and T-shirts, but they pinged his radar with a warning of danger.
