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It's quick but tight.

And, fuck, I feel her everywhere.

I have to force myself to pull back. She's a kid. You're supposed to protect her. "You sleeping over tonight?"

"Maybe. Em's trying to convince me to go out. But I think I'd rather crash at home." Her eyes go to the clock. "Shit. I gotta go. I'll see you soon."

I nod goodbye.

Watch her ass sway as she walks away.

This time next week, Kaylee is going to live in the room down the hall.

I'm going to have to resist her twenty-four seven.

Will power isn't gonna cut it.

I need something a hell of a lot stronger.

My twelve o'clock is sitting in the teal chair, her face pressed against the wall, her tongue between her teeth.

She squints.

Bites her tongue.

Squeezes her thigh with her free hand.

Her gaze goes to the mirror. She watches me work.

At first, it bothered me. But I'm used to it now.

Clients love watching ink mark their skin.

I can't blame them.

I love it too.

And this girl—she's barely older than Kaylee—is a trooper. It's nearly two now, and she hasn't asked for a single break.

I check in. "You okay?"

She murmurs something. When I arch a brow, she nods.

"This is the last line."

"Thank fuck," she whispers.

My lips curl into a smile. This is her first piece of ink, and it's a big fucking tattoo—a teddy bear with its arms hanging off, stu

ffing spilling from its guts, its eye missing, its nose askew.

I don't ask what it means. I never do. Tattoos are personal. People talk when they want someone to listen.

Mostly.

Some people don't say shit, even when they're desperate for someone to listen.

Besides, there might not be a backstory. It might be as simple as a love of teddy bears.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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