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He nods, his eyes raking over me from head to toe. I can read between the lines, I know what he’s saying without saying it and it makes my heart race.
“I don’t have any ink yet,” I murmur, stepping further into the room, letting my hands fall to my sides as his eyes brighten.
“Even better.”
* * *
“Are you sure this is the one you want?”
I roll my eyes at his repeated question. He’s asked me this a million times and I’m fed up with repeating myself.
No, I haven’t gotten a tattoo before, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted one. Having him press the needle into my skin, marking it forever, will be the most freeing thing I will ever experience.
No rules. No opinions. No bullshit.
Just me, in my skin.
“If you don’t turn that damn thing on and stab me with your gun, then I’ll find someone else here who will.” I raise my eyebrow at him in challenge. This may have started out as a way for him to decompress, but my heart is fucking set on it now and there’s no way in hell I’m backing down.
“Like fuck,” he grunts, shuffling in his seat so his legs are spread wide on either side of me as I sit on the chair he pulled in from the kitchen. He takes my wrist in his hand and slowly twists it from side to side, looking at the stencil that’s on my skin ready for him to trace.
I asked him to freestyle it but he refused. In his words, ‘There’s no fucking way in hell I’m ruining your sweet porcelain skin with one wrong line out of place.’ Seemingly, I trust his abilities more than he does, but I’m not going to argue with him.
“Do you want to listen to some music?” he offers and reaches for the tattoo gun.
“I’m good with Axel’s music unless you want to hit me with some Swifty,” I offer, grinning at him. The heavy metal music started playing about twenty minutes ago, and even through the closed bedroom door, it’s still loud enough to be heard clearly in here.
“Swifty isn’t the right music for inking you, Scarlett,” Emmett murmurs with a scoff, before turning the tattoo gun on.
The sound of the needle kicking into action sends a shiver down my spine. It makes me feel nervous and exhilarated all at once. Emmett runs his calloused thumb over my skin, memorizing the stencil outline like it’s not there to guide him, before he lowers the gun to my skin.
I don’t know what I expect the first feeling to be like, but it’s less harsh than my mind was making me believe. The needle is piercing my skin, outlining and marking a trail to remain forever. You would expect that to hurt like a bitch, but it’s more of a soft hum grazing repeatedly over my flesh.
My shoulders relax as he continues, my eyes closing as I let the vibrations soothe me. Even though we’re sitting in silence, it’s distracting enough that I’m not lost in my own mind again. If anything, it lulls me into a restful state, forgetting the real world and the issues I’m facing right now.
I could tell them the truth, I could explain, but I don’t want to. Not when they brought me here as a whore, and treat me like this instead. Like a fucking queen most of the time. Back at the Reapers, whores were treated like shit, but that’s not the case here, not even for Molly and her tribe of Bitches.
I’m not respected any less and I’m not slurred at simply for breathing.
It hasn’t been an act either. I’ve fucked who I’ve wanted to fuck, I’ve spent time with who I want to spend time with, and I’ve explored my own wants, needs, and desires more than I ever have.
“Are you asleep or daydreaming?” Emmett’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I blink my eyes open.
“Daydreaming,” I reply, not really sure it counts as daydreaming if I’m basking in the glow of my life right now, but I don’t specify that.
The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smile as he nods at my arm. “The outline is done. Are you good for me to carry on and shade it in?”
Looking down at the black ink coating my skin, a buzz of excitement zaps through me. My cheeks ache from how wide I’m smiling as I nod eagerly. “Definitely color it in. Please.”
I can’t take my eyes off the black outline of a Harley Davidson at the top of my inner forearm. By the time he’s done, there will be orange and yellow flames elegantly swirling from the back of it. It’s perfect. But more so are the words underneath it that are etched forever in my skin.
Forever Free.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Emmett
The second theneedle pierces her skin, I want to defile every inch of the outline marked in blue looking back at me.
