Chapter 5

chapter five

Zara

"ANGEL"— Toby Mai

I just had the best orgasm of my entire life.

Pressed against the wall in a storage room of a biker bar, my hands tangled in Davis's hair, my moans drowned out by the sound of a poorly sung rendition of "It's Raining Men," without a single moment of regret.

Not one.

In fact, I'm desperate for more from the guy who had zero hesitation in dropping to his knees and devouring me like he was starving and I was his last meal.

Things probably would have gone further if it hadn't been for the last-call announcement made through the speaker system, letting everyone in the bar know it's closing time. I barely heard it through the wall over the erotic sound of Davis lapping at my pussy and the thundering beat of my heart.

"Fuck," he rasps, dropping his forehead against my stomach, his hot breath fanned over my overly sensitive core. "How the fuck is it already 2:00 a.m.?"

"You know what they say. Time flies when you're having fun."

His deep, hoarse chuckle vibrates my skin, and I exhale shakily. Every part of my body is still buzzing from his wickedly talented tongue and from the way tonight has felt.

My leg falls from his shoulder, combat-boot-clad foot sliding to the floor as he rises to his feet. His eyes darken as they wash over my body sagging against the boxes. "You're so goddamn pretty, Zara." Reaching for me, he drags his fingers down the center of my chest, where the ink stains my skin. "The prettiest thing I've ever seen in my goddamn life."

Teeth dragging over my bottom lip, I stare up at him as he lifts his hand and sweeps his thumb along the corners of my lip before placing his palm flat along the wall behind me.

His mouth lowers, so close to mine that I think he might kiss me again, but he doesn't.

He just hovers there, breathing me in and staring into my fucking soul with his dark, amber eyes.

"The bar's closing, and I know I should probably take you home, but I'm really not fucking ready for this night to be over, Trouble."

"Who says it has to?" I whisper, lifting my hands to his sides, where my fingers fist in the fabric of his wrinkled dress shirt, tugging him closer to me. "The night is still young, and we make the rules, Loverboy."

"Yeah?"

His dark brow lifts with the corner of his lip, a playful grin transforming his handsome face.

Every time he's offered that effortless grin tonight, a flurry of something foreign tugs low in my belly, and I want to chase that feeling, no matter where it leads.

And that's why this guy is dangerous.

Because chasing something fun, something temporary, is all that I'm after, but guys like Davis… they make you feel like there's more to be had under the surface, underneath all the pretty and shiny feelings that give you butterflies and make your heart race in your chest.

Nodding, I roll my lips together, contemplating my next words since they're as crazy as anything we've done tonight. "I know a place… if you're up for it."

"Would probably be up for anything if you were involved."

My head falls back against the wall as a giggle tumbles out of me. "You sure about that?"

Without hesitation, he nods. "Fuck yeah. Take me wherever you want, Trouble."

"Wonderland Tattoo?" Davis questions as he shuts the door to the Uber, dragging his gaze from the eccentrically painted studio over to me.

I smirk, popping a brow. "Still up for anything ?"

His head shakes when he laughs, the long dark strands of his hair falling in his face, and my fingers itch to reach out and tangle through them.

"How about something to remember the best date of your life?" I add before he can answer.

I fully expect him to call my bluff. To end the night right here.

Not to grab my hand and thread those long, strong fingers through mine, tugging me against him until I can feel every hard, sharp ridge of his body.

Nor do I expect him to look down at me with those deep-amber, golden-flecked eyes, a boyish smirk on his lips, and shrug. "Fuck it, why not?"

"Really?" I ask, my tone full of surprise that makes his smirk spread into a smile.

"What? You didn't think I would?"

Well… no. Actually.

I thought he'd draw the line on this kind of spontaneity, but once again, he's surprised me, just the way he has all night.

I'm realizing how much Davis matches my energy. He's fun and full of life. He's reckless in the best kind of way. He doesn't back down, even when it seems crazy. He doesn't care about the outside noise and is perfectly content doing whatever makes him happy, and it's rare to find someone comfortable enough with themselves to enjoy that. It's so fucking hot.

When I walked into the Kappa house for the auction, I never would have guessed the night would end up how it has.

He's not at all something I expected.

Shrugging, I take a few slow steps backward toward the building, pulling him along with me, gaze trained on him. The parking lot is dark, with only a few low-lit streetlights scattered along the pavement. "Not really. I mean, you're a tattoo virgin. Are you sure you want to give it up here tonight, with me? Seems like a pretty big commitment for a first date."

"And who says I'm not a commitment kind of guy?" he hedges. "I might be an only commitment kind of guy."

I laugh as we come to a stop in front of the entrance, a heavy black door painted in theme with Alice in Wonderland 's Mad Hatter. The zany and dramatic cartoon features are painted with striking accuracy.

"Sorry, Loverboy, but I'm calling bullshit. I was there tonight, remember? I saw all of those girls ready to jump on you the second they secured their prize."

He nods at the same time his shoulder dips, stepping forward until I collide with the door behind me. "Maybe so, but it was over the second a pretty little thing in combat boots caught my eye. You know what I thought the moment I saw you?" His palm flattens on the door behind me, caging me in as his free hand lifts to the neckline of my dress, where it curves loosely around my small cleavage. His fingertips score along my heated skin, creating a symphony inside my rib cage. "I thought about how perfect you'd look on your knees, those red fucking lips stretched around my cock, taking me down your throat."

Oh god.

Heat pools in the place in my belly that has my core tightening, my clit throbbing with fierce desperation.

"I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I saw no one else. Only you , Trouble," he murmurs against my parted lips, still holding my gaze with an intensity that has my toes curling in the boots he seems to love so much. "Now, you wanna go in here and get a tattoo? Let's fucking go. But I need something before we do."

"What?"

My voice sounds as breathless as I feel, and the corner of his lip curves up.

"I need to kiss you because I've been fucking dying to since we left that bar, and I'll be a real good boy if I can taste those lips again before I give up my virginity to a stranger."

I can't help but toss my head back and laugh because, god, it's so fucking ridiculous, but it's also him, and I want that too.

"Are you asking for permission?"

His gaze darkens. "Do I need it?"

Every second of this banter between is driving me insane with need. I don't think I've ever been more turned on in my life.

"No," I whisper against his mouth, brushing my lips against his slightly as I lift onto my tiptoes and curve my arms around his neck. As if already a habit, my fingers tangle into the long hair at his nape, my fingernails lightly scraping along his scalp.

"So much fucking trouble" is all he says before he's kissing me, taking my mouth so possessively that a shiver dances down my spine. It's not only a kiss; it's an act of war, a proclamation of ownership that's like a brand along my lips. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and he swallows every whimper, every stuttering exhale.

And then I feel his teeth grazing my lips as he pulls back and nibbles on them, sending a delicious shiver down my spine and goose bumps scattering along my flesh.

"You have no idea how badly I want to take you home, take you anywhere, and finish what we started, Zara. But if we do that, then we're not making it to this appointment." He drops his forehead against mine. "Tell me let's go inside and get these tattoos."

"I… Yes. Come on." I slip my fingers into his and turn to the door.

He's a perfect gentleman and holds it open for me, letting me step inside before he does. The door shuts behind him, and we look around the shop together.

Even though it's nearly three in the morning, Wonderland is still alive and full of people.

And honestly, I'd be more surprised if it wasn't. Of all the tattoo parlors in New Orleans, it's the best, no question.

Not only are their artists the most talented in the city, but the vibes and energy are unmatched.

Gracie, my artist and one of my favorite people, is the only person I'll ever let tattoo me. She's amazing, and I don't trust anyone else to put something permanent on my skin.

The parlor is spacious, an eclectic mix of dark blues, purples, and black, adorned with a gothic, dark version of Alice in Wonderland told in murals on the wall. There's a shelf above the deep blue velvet couches with various statues of characters from the original movie.

"This place is fucking sick. You always come here to get your stuff done?" Davis asks as we stand side by side in the foyer, admiring the portraits along the walls.

I had no clue if he'd be down for this, but I texted Gracie as soon as we left the bar and asked her to squeeze us in for something super small and that I would owe her for life.

Thankfully, she loves me because she gave us her last slot.

I nod. "The girl who does my tattoos, Gracie, she's the artist on most of these. She owns the parlor with her twin brother, Grayson. I got my first tattoo with her and every one since. It's only been a few months, but she's stuck with me for life," I say as I reach up and drag my finger along a black-and-white portrait of a Roman statue. It's one of my favorite pieces she's ever done, and I always tell myself that I'm going to have her do something similar for my thigh piece that I'll eventually get.

"My favorite mural is this one."

Davis's gaze travels the length of mine to where I'm staring at a full wall mural of Alice skipping into a field of psychedelic mushrooms that glow under the black light they've installed in this room.

The detail is incredible, and the style is a total vibe.

"Mhmm. This is crazy good," he agrees, shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "Should probably figure out what we're getting, yeah?"

I nod, scanning the room for Gracie's portfolio books. They're full of her art for when people need inspiration, and honestly, this will be the first spontaneous tattoo I've ever gotten. The rest of my tattoos have been planned, designs that I've wanted for a long time.

I spot the dark purple, leather-bound books on a table near her room, and I walk over, picking it up, then turn to face Davis.

"The grimoire for reckless, last-minute decisions." I grin, waving the large book in front of me. His dark brow furrows in confusion, so I add, "Gracie's portfolio book."

My gaze slides to the curve of his pillowy lips and the smallest hint of a dimple that appears right next to it on his cheek. It's hard to focus on anything other than how ridiculously sexy he looks leaned against the wall nonchalantly, hands shoved in his pant pockets, his dark hair tucked behind his ears as he looks at me with a heated stare that should not have as much of an effect on me as it does.

Crossing the room, I sit on the small velvet sofa and peer up at Davis. "Come on, Loverboy. Big decisions and so little time."

He chuckles, lowering himself into the seat beside me.

I open the book, pausing on the very first page and pointing to a hairless sphinx. "You should absolutely get this one. Cats feel like your thing."

"The fuck, Zara?" His laugh slides through my veins like the most addicting drug on the planet. "Pass. But this one…" His finger lands on a small bat. "This one might be the one."

When I roll my eyes and keep flipping absentmindedly through the book, he places a large hand over the pages.

"Nah, you know what. You want spontaneous ?" He smirks from beside me, snapping the portfolio shut. "I pick yours. You pick mine. Spontaneous as it gets, baby."

My brow arches. "That seems like an absolutely terrible idea for your first tattoo."

"Why, you scared, Trouble ? It's okay if you are. You can just say that." His back hits the plush velvet sofa, and he crosses his arms over his chest with that stupid shit-eating grin that makes the fluttering in my stomach become a hurricane that can't be quelled.

"I'm not scared," I scoff. "I just don't want you to regret it. They're forever, you know?"

"I'm starting to think you're the one with the commitment issues."

I roll my eyes again as a laugh falls from my parted lips. "You've barely seen a fraction of the commitment on my body, Loverboy. The best ones are reserved for those who are lucky enough to get to see them."

His eyes darken at my retort, dropping briefly to my chest where the fabric of my satin dress hangs loosely, offering him the smallest view of cleavage and the dark ink staining my chest.

The way his gaze sweeps over my skin feels like a caress, as if he's using the rough pads of his fingers to memorize every inch without ever touching me.

Side by side on this sofa, his thick thigh pressed against mine, we're caught in a moment that feels too intimate to be surrounded by people in a tattoo parlor.

"You down, Trouble?" He rasps the question, but it feels like he's asking something else entirely, and I'm wound so tightly that it takes every ounce of restraint not to climb into his lap and finish what we started earlier.

God, I'm painfully horny, and one orgasm obviously wasn't enough. I'm not sure two would even come close.

"I'm not the kind of girl to back down from a challenge. I'm down," I murmur, reaching up and dragging my thumb along his bottom lip, smirking when his breath catches.

He has no idea just how much I love a challenge.