July 17, 2015
Erotic Contemporary - Book Two Wicked Delights Series
She’s survived abuse…he’ll teach her to trust passion and love.
Marnie’s getting her life together after escaping a violent relationship, a repeat of her parents’ past. Bearing scars on her arm and leg, she comes to Wicked Brand hoping tattoos will cover the damage and allow her to feel pretty.
Tor can work magic with his stunning 3-D designs and wants nothing more than to see Marnie smile. She’s a rare combination of sweet yet wickedly sensual. The kind of woman a man can’t easily resist.
He doesn’t try. Their sessions at the parlor turn into evenings of steamy delight as they feed their carnal hunger and growing intimacy, playing shameless games that leave them breathless and wanting more.
Paradise for Marnie—Tor cherishes and excites rather than harms, unlike her ex-boyfriend.
When he finds her, he’s ready to do his worst.
Think again. This time, Marnie’s no longer alone.
Settled, Tor got in the zone as he worked, vaguely aware of clients arriving and departing, Van Gogh—one of the other artists—discussing designs with customers in his usual gloomy manner, muted conversations outside on the walk.
Thankfully, no one banged on the window or asked Tor to strip. He liked being popular but still… Tor had been a serious artist before coming here, the same as Van Gogh, though neither of them had been able to support their passion without a day job. Tor’s sketches and Van Gogh’s paintings hung in the parlor in between photos of tats, T-shirts and other touristy stuff for sale. Little by little, their real art was selling, which was pretty damn sweet.
As he switched to the other side of the biker, Tor caught a glimpse of the outside crowd, many of the women fanning themselves with the handouts Lauren had carried. Others had rolled the advertising piece into a tube shape and had slipped the paper into a front pocket. The ladies with the pasty complexions were undoubtedly tourists. The locals were usually as tan as he was and sporting far less clothing. He saw an expanse of naked legs and torsos, some of the young women wearing sports bras or bikini tops with their brief cutoffs. Small wonder. The August afternoon couldn’t have been steamier, the sky iron gray with a thick layer of clouds. A heavy metallic scent predicted rain, a common occurrence this time of year.
Maybe Lauren should get an awning installed over the window to protect the fans from getting wet.
Smiling at the thought, Tor finished wiping away the black ink he’d used on the Spartan’s helmet and looked up again.
Numerous women lifted their smartphones to take his picture as if he was better than an A-list celeb. Yeah, right. Still surprised and somewhat amused at the attention, he grinned.
A platinum blonde continued to take shots as she shifted to the left. Her move opened a space, allowing Tor to see a young woman on the periphery of the crowd.
Their eyes met.
Hers were a soft brown, lushly lashed, expressive, yearning.
Waves of warmth coursed through him, settling in Tor’s crotch. His cock stiffened instantly, balls plumping fast, his sac pulling up into his body.
He guessed her to be in her mid-to-late twenties, her thick, wavy, chestnut hair parted on the side and falling past her shoulders. The ends curled slightly above her breasts. Tor wanted to look lower but her face captured his attention. Her features were naturally sultry even without make-up—she wore none he could see—her skin tawny, heritage most likely Cuban, the same as him.
Without thinking, he stepped closer to the window, taking in her long-sleeved peasant blouse and white jeans. Despite her clothes—and damn she had a lot on, given the ungodly temperature—the fabric didn’t hide her ample curves. His chest and throat went hot with desire at her luscious breasts and hips. The kind of figure a man could hold on to during a wild ride, his cock buried in her snug depths, body comforted by her warm, giving flesh.
Who was she?
Tor guessed she wasn’t a tourist. She didn’t have a phone lifted to take his picture as though she might be leaving town and needed something to remember him by. Hell, she didn’t even have a purse with her. Had to be a local and probably lived or worked close by.
The thought of getting to know her made him smile.
Just as he did, the redhead with the great rack got in his line of sight.
Tor moved to the other side of the biker, craning his neck to see past the redhead to the outstanding brunette who’d caught his eye.
A few of the ladies in front glanced in the same direction he did.
The young woman didn’t appear to notice other people looking her way. Her gaze remained on him, the longing still there though fading finally, beneath what appeared to be disquiet.
Why? He’d only smiled.
Killing his grin, Tor was ready to lift his hand and gesture for her to come inside so they could meet and talk, when she turned and moved away.
“Hey,” the biker said. “Where are you going?”
Tor stopped at the front door, suddenly remembering his customer. Torn between taking care of his client, as he should, or going outside to ask the young woman to come back, he finally returned to the biker and called across the space. “Jasmina, got a sec?”
She stopped taking inventory of the items in the front case. “What do you need?”
Good question. Tor had never chased after women, at least in the literal sense. He’d always had his pick of girlfriends, with them coming on to him strong. The majority had worn loads of make-up and dressed as though they were auditioning for a Playboy spread—showing lots of skin with as little fabric covering them as possible and only to avoid getting hauled in by the cops for public indecency.
The young woman he’d seen wasn’t his usual type yet there was something about her that stirred him even now, making Tor edgy and wanting. Crazy, he knew, but the feeling persisted. “I saw a woman outside.”
Jasmina stared at him blankly before looking past him at the crowd of females on the other side of the glass. Her expression said he was nuts.
Could be he was. “She left. Can you run out and see if you can catch up with her? She’s wearing a long-sleeved blouse and white jeans. Has brown hair as long as yours. Maybe a bit longer.”
“Did she lose something?”
“No. She just took off.”
Jasmina made a face. Before her break-up with Brad, she would have reacted to his comment with unwavering optimism and good humor.
How Brad could have cheated on her and killed Jasmina’s trust in guys was a mystery to Tor. Not only had Jasmina been loyal to a fault, she was fucking gorgeous. Also of Cuban descent, she had long, auburn hair, which she normally wore in a ponytail, a rich complexion, outstanding breasts, and legs longer than the law should have allowed. Today, she wore what she usually did—a tank top, cut-offs and sneakers.
Those babies remained planted on the floor as she turned back to her work. “She’s allowed to go if she wants.”
Tor rolled his eyes. “Do we want to lose customers? You could go out there and show her your tat. She couldn’t have gotten too far—she wasn’t walking that fast. Maybe she’d want a bow on her ankle like you have.” Lame, he knew, but Jasmina wasn’t making this easy. “Come on, you’re not doing anything.”
She arched one eyebrow.
Tor raised his gloved hands in surrender. “I meant anything you can’t do later.”
Jasmina regarded him as though she could read his mind and soul.
Tor forced himself not to step back from her scrutiny. “What?”
“If I do catch up and stop her, what if she’s not interested in my tat?”
Tor hadn’t thought beyond stopping her. “Tell her we have lots of other ones.” He gestured to the biker’s back.
Jasmina gave him a sad smile. “Better to let people go who don’t want you.”
The young woman had though. For an instant, the connection between them had been so strong Tor felt her need deep inside. He couldn’t recall another female having affected him in the same way. Sure, there was lust in his reaction but also something else he couldn’t quite identify. A rare quality, like the sensation people have when meeting someone for the first time yet feeling as if they’d known the individual forever.
Jasmina clearly didn’t share his wonder. Already, she’d returned to her work.
With no other choice, Tor went back to his too, weighing whether he’d see the young woman again, imagining what her smile would be like, the sound of her voice, her scent, the feel of her breath on his skin, her hands gliding over his body, making him hungry for whatever she had to give.
Inhaling deeply at the thought, he wondered what her name might be.