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Holy shit, this just gets better and better! Creative license for an entire back piece? I want to marry this girl. She’s perfect. I’m looking over every inch of bare skin I can see, picturing all the different ways I could brand that creamy skin of hers, when Kelly speaks.
“How is it possible,” Kelly begins, “that you have so many tattoos, yet you’ve somehow managed to keep your entire back as a blank canvas?”
“My body isn’t a canvas.” She shakes her head, ignoring the question.
“It’s our canvas,” I point out.
“No, it’s not,” she insists. I go to argue with her, but she cuts me off. “Think about it. A canvas only ever displays one work of art, one picture. My skin is an entire gallery. My tattoos are an autobiography. They tell my whole story. That doesn’t belong to any artist, no matter how good they are.”
She has a good point, which just makes my admiration of her skyrocket even more.
“Okay. Can I see it?” Linc interrupts, all business. He’s really no fun sometimes. Makes me want to slap him. “So I can fit a design to your size and proportions?”
“Sure,” she agrees softly.
She stands and turns so that her back is to us, and then removes her top — which I swear I’m not obsessed, but it’s the exact shade of yellow worn in the film — exposing her bare back to us. No bra.
I swallow thickly.
She then removes her denim skirt so that she’s standing in just her underwear before us, and my mouth starts watering. I know I’m supposed to be looking at her objectively, as a client, but…damn, that ass. She stretches out face-down on the couch and pulls her hair over her shoulder.
“Okay, so are we going up onto the neck at all?” Linc asks, tracing his fingers lightly over the area in question. Goosebumps rise on her flesh at his contact, and I don’t think it’s because she’s suddenly cold.
Interesting. Most women are intimidated by my large, gruff, face-tatted friend, but not Belle. No, that reaction isn’t fear at all.
Jealousy prickles over my skin, and I have to fight to keep my smile in place as she makes eye contact with me.
“I don’t mind, but I think I’d prefer not to. I’d like to get something else there later on, but something that will harmonize with the back piece.”
“That’s not a problem. Are you wanting color or monochrome?”
“Mono.”
“Shading?”
“Lots.”
“Great. And how far down are you thinking?” He slowly runs his fingers down her spine, stopping at each point he mentions. “Here? Kidneys? Hips? Pelvis?”
She shudders and sighs, and I get even harder. Yet somehow Linc is oblivious to the reactions he’s causing her to have.
I narrow my eyes on his hands so close to her ass. Hmm. Maybe he isn’t completely oblivious.
“The top of my thighs, please,” she whispers in a breathless tone.
“So you want us to tattoo your…ummm…” Linc hesitates, his hand hovering over the area in question.
“My ass? Yeah.”
My breath catches, and Kelly groans. I glance at him and see that he’s quickly rearranging himself in his ripped jeans.
Yeah, you and me both, bro.
“May I…” Linc’s fingers lightly graze the edge of her lace panties and trace along the elastic seam.
Her only response is to lift her hips up from the couch slightly to give him room to slip them down. But he doesn’t do that. He takes them off entirely so that she’s naked and stretched out before us. But she doesn’t say a word.
This time, it’s my turn to groan and readjust myself.
