Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
“Yo, boss,” Ziggy said as he leaned on the counter. His mohawk today was neon-green, and the plugs in both his earlobes matched his hair.
“Sandwiches will be in the back when you guys are ready for them.” Cadeon lifted the brown bag and tipped his chin toward the back room. “Naggie in a pissed off mood or working on something?”
Ziggy pushed off the counter and grinned. “I think a bit of both.”
Cadeon walked the few feet it took to get into the main part of the parlor where all the ink was done. Naggie was seated in front of a big, burly fucker, and even though she was working on his back, Cadeon could see the massive amount of chest hair the guy had as it sprouted out the sides of the table. As if Naggie knew he had been asking what the deal with the music was, she lifted her head and glared over at him.
Yeah, she was in a bitchy mood all right. He held up the bag and pointed to the back room. She nodded, her bleached-blonde pixie-cut hair slicked back and didn’t even move from the motion. Cadeon wasn’t about to talk to her about what the problem was, because when he had been stupid enough to do that before, all it ended up doing was pissing Naggie off more. If she wanted to vent, she knew where he was.
The people who worked in his shop weren’t just his employees; they were like his family too. Reckless may have only been his home for the last three years, but this was the first place since he had been on his own where he felt comfortable.
He turned and walked into the back room, if it could really be called that. The main part of the shop where all the work was done was spacious, but the back room where he kept supplies and where his office was didn’t have much more room than a walk-in closet. He had hours before Stella was to arrive, and although he usually kept the shop open late, he was closing early and sending everyone home for when she came.
Was that the smart thing? Fuck no, because it would mean he’d be alone with Stella, and the things he wanted to do to her were just nasty and wrong, but Christ they would be so damn good.
His dick sprang forward with a vengeance, and the ache in his balls he had to deal with every time he was near her was so uncomfortable that he actually contemplated rubbing one out before he saw her, hoping it would help relax him enough that he didn’t feel the need to throw her over the counter, or worse yet, fuck her on his tattoo chair. Cadeon pressed his open palm to the front of his jeans, right over his cock, and gritted his teeth.
Yeah, he had blue balls from hell whenever he was around Stella, but there was no way to prevent that unless he just stayed away. But that was one hard fucking task, seeing as he gave the club their ink, and she was always there.
“Get your shit under control or you’re going to make shit a whole lot worse for yourself.” Dammit, now he was talking to himself. There was a knock on the door, and he sat in his chair behind his desk before calling out for them to come in.
Naggie pushed the door open and without saying anything walked up to the brown bag and grabbed a sandwich out of it. She sat her skinny ass down on the edge of his desk and tore into the food.
“You finished with the tat?”
She shook her head. “Nah, the guy needed a break. For as big as he is, he’s a big baby.” She grinned and took another bite of the sandwich. “Although, I will say he’s been in that chair for a few hours already. You see the piece I’m doing?”
Cadeon leaned back in his chair and threaded his hands together behind his head. “A portrait? Is that his kid or something?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It is such a sad fucking story, actually. His kid died a few years back from some rare disease. This is like a small tribute to her, although the thing takes up the entire width of his back, and you saw how big he is. The guy is built like a linebacker.” Naggie started talking about the other clients she had tomorrow and bitched about the sixteen-year-old who was coming in with her mom to get her first butterfly tattoo. “I mean, come on, a fucking butterfly?”
Cadeon grinned. A client was a client to him, but Naggie hated when young girls came in for what she considered cliché tattoos. It was usually butterflies, flowers, Koi fish, or a Chinese symbol. Even though Cadeon liked a more complex piece to ink into someone, he didn’t share the same kind of… passion to bitch about simple designs like Naggie did.