His Red Carnation (Forbidden Blooms #1)

4. Callan

4

Callan

Watching Sloane walk out of her bedroom in that fucking dress with her pretty pink lips had me fucking dying. The things I wanted to do to her, like bend her over and grab that perfect ass and shove my dick so hard in her that her sweet little voice screamed my name. And then sitting beside her in the car, noticing her tits shaking as she bossed me around and rolled her eyes at me. I wanted to fuck her mouth with the way she talked back to me. But goddamn it, I needed to clear my head and stop thinking about my friend’s daughter. My friend’s barely eighteen-year-old daughter. And now I was taking her to a fucking tattoo shop. Of course Ana would approve—she’s always been a firecracker. I remember back in our twenties, at a party, when some drunk asshole grabbed her ass. Without missing a beat, she turned around and slapped him so hard, the whole room went silent. She didn’t even flinch, just stared him down until he slunk off like the piece of shit he was. That was Ana— fierce as hell, and Jake fucking loved her for it. I saw the same fire in Sloane. She played the good girl, but I could tell there was a wild side under there. The way she flirted with me, a guy twenty years older, screamed rebellion. Did she even realize she was doing it? Because it was driving me fucking crazy and if she kept doing it, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’d fucking rip that pretty little dress off of her if she asked me to.

We pulled up to the tattoo shop a few minutes later. She jumped out of the car and stomped her way to the entrance, and I hurried to catch up. She always stomped around like she was on a mission to fuck shit up. I wondered if she even realized how much confidence she radiated—it was surprising coming from an eighteen-year-old.

Before I could even try, she yanked the door open and walked right in.

The place was packed for a Thursday night. Sloane headed straight to the front desk and started chatting with the receptionist, a tattooed guy who didn’t look much older than her. The way he stared at her, openly ogling her, pissed me off. I couldn’t make out their conversation over the loud music, so I moved closer, resting my hand on her back—almost possessively. Just touching her soft body made my dick twitch. She glanced over at me, her eyes widening for a split second, her body relaxing from my touch, before turning back to the tattooed kid.

“This your dad or something?” he joked.

“No, you know exactly who she is. I’m her fucking muscle. So cut the jokes, asshole. You got a private room or something? She needs privacy.”

He gaped at me, clearly realizing who I meant. His eyes flicked to Sloane, narrowing.

“Holy shit, it is you. You’re Sloane Martin.” He continued to blatantly check her out, and I had to hold back the urge to clock him.

“So? Do you have someone who can tattoo me?” she asked quietly, almost as if she were embarrassed.

“Yeah, for sure. Uh, here…follow me.” He got up and gestured for us to head down a hallway.

Sloane shot me a pissed-off look. “Could you maybe not mention who I am to everyone we talk to?” she muttered.

Fuck . “He was being a fucking jackass,” I argued.

She glared at me. “You could’ve told him off without mentioning who I was,” she snapped.

I stayed silent as she walked ahead, following the jackass into a private room. I needed to start considering her feelings more. I wasn’t used to dealing with famous, beautiful teenage girls—especially ones that I wanted to fuck. And not just fuck—I already cared about her. I wanted to protect her. I didn’t want anyone even looking at her, let alone talking to her. I’d never felt this kind of possessiveness toward a woman before.

“Just fill this out. I’ll have someone come in for you soon,” the loser muttered, handing Sloane the paperwork before walking out and closing the door behind him.

She sat down and started filling it out.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, taking a seat across the room. There was a chair next to her, but I didn’t think she’d want me being that close to her at the moment.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s just…it’s rare that I get to go somewhere and be anonymous.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the paperwork.

I nodded. “I get that.”

Finally, she looked up at me and smirked. “So, you’re my muscle ?”

I laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. “I just wanted to give him some shit. Honestly, I think you’ve got enough muscle for the both of us,” I teased.

She licked her lips, her eyes drifting to my arms. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was checking me out.

“I don’t know,” she said as a slow grin appeared on her lips. “I was kind of looking forward to seeing that muscle.”

Jesus Christ. I instantly had a semi, but thank fuck someone walked in before I said something I regretted.

“Shit, it is you.” Another hipster kid walked in, gawking at her like an idiot.

Sloane’s smile faded as she gave a small shrug.

“This is great. What can I do for you? You’re eighteen or…?” He glanced at me, almost questioning.

“I’m eighteen. I want a red carnation. A small one,” she answered confidently.

What happened to Ferdinand?

“Okay, cool. Where do you want it?” he asked, sitting down on a swivel chair near the reclining chair.

Sloane hesitated, glancing at me for a moment before turning back to him. “Beside my ribcage.”

“Got any example photos? I’ll draw something up for you—just show me what you had in mind.”

I watched as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him. Then it hit me—how the fuck was she going to get a tattoo in that spot without lifting her dress, exposing herself to this shithead?

“Cool. This won’t take long. I’ll draw something up and come back,” he said, quickly walking out. I felt a twinge of nervousness being alone with her again.

“I thought you wanted Ferdinand the Bull?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from where it had been heading.

Sloane shrugged off her cardigan, leaning over slightly, her perky tits stealing my attention for a second.

“That’s my next one. I just wanted something small tonight.”

She stood up and started checking out the tattoo designs framed on the walls.

“Are you going to show me any of yours?” she asked, still not looking at me.

I glanced down at my left forearm. “There’s an anchor here. Pretty self-explanatory.”

She glanced over, her gaze lingering on my arm with a spark of desire.

“How many do you have?” she asked, curiosity all over her face.

I thought for a second. “I don’t know. Over thirty, at least.”

Her eyes widened. “Holy shit. Over thirty? Where are they all?”

Fuck, there goes her eagerness again.

I shrugged. “Everywhere. Mostly my upper half.”

Her eyes scanned my body. My dick involuntarily twitched again.

“You sure you want it on your ribcage? That’s right on the bone. Might hurt a little.”

Her eyes flicked to my lips before meeting mine. “I can handle a little pain.”

Did she fucking know what she was doing to me? Did she know I’d imagine her bent over, slapping her ass and pulling her hair?

“I’m sure you can,” I muttered, keeping a straight face.

No, you fucking idiot. Don’t flirt back with her.

She smiled shyly at me. So, she can dish it out, but she can’t take it? Oh fuck that, I’d make her take it.

I was saved by the hipster idiot again.

“How’s this?” he asked, handing her a tablet with what I assumed was his drawing.

She smiled at him, and it made me jealous as fuck. “Perfect.”

He pulled out a flat, cushioned table and started laying a paper sheet over it. I noticed Sloane standing there, looking uneasy.

“I’ll have to lay down?” she asked.

He glanced at me, then back at her. “Yeah, if you want it on your ribcage.”

She looked at me and then back at him.

“Okay. I just…I don’t have anything to cover my bottom half.”

I stood up immediately. “We should go then.” There was no way I could handle seeing her ass on display and not doing a damn thing about it. Worse, I didn’t want that hipster fucker seeing her like that either.

The guy raised his hand. “No, it’s all good. I’ll grab you a paper blanket. We use them all the time.”

Sloane glanced at me, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She smiled warmly at me, almost like she was trying to calm me down.

I reluctantly sat back down.

“Here.” The douchebag pulled a paper blanket from a drawer. “Just uh, get situated and comfortable, and I’ll be right back.”

He nodded at me and left the room.

“I’ll give you some space,” I said, heading for the door, but Sloane stopped me.

“Wait.”

I turned back to her expectantly.

“It’s okay. Just…don’t look.” Her wide brown eyes stared at me, hopeful.

I sighed, nodding as I turned around and crossed my arms.

I heard the crinkling of the paper as she got onto the table. My mind wandered, imagining what her juicy ass looked like laid out on that table. Was she wearing a thong? Boy shorts? Nothing?

“Okay. You can turn around.”

I hesitated but turned, and immediately my eyes caught her bare ass under the paper blanket. It wasn’t pulled down nearly enough. Her ass was even better than I’d imagined, and my mouth practically watered. I quickly looked away, reminding myself that she wasn’t trying to show it off to me. Or…was she?

“You’re not covering much. Might want to pull it down more,” I muttered, my eyes fixed firmly on the floor beside me.

She giggled quietly, sending a shock straight to my dick. “Whoops.” There was crinkling of the paper again.

“Yeah, whoops. Better fucking fix it before that asshole sees your ass.”

“Which asshole, you or him?” she teased.

I glanced up, and her ass was still peeking out.

“Sloane, it’s fucking clear as day. Pull the blanket down.” I was pissed, knowing someone could walk in and see her completely exposed. I averted my eyes back to the floor, desperately trying not to march up to her and grab her, claiming her body the way I’d been dying to do all day.

“I’ll cover it up before he comes back in. This is just for you.” Her voice was breathy and quiet, with a seriousness that hit me hard.

My eyes shot up to meet hers. The paper blanket barely covered anything now. She was wearing a pink thong—if you could even call it that—practically swallowed by her perfect, plump ass. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her—my dick grew hard and was desperately trying to break free from my pants.

“Sloane, don’t do this,” I warned her.

She bit her lip, smiling. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t be fucking coy. I’m your dad’s friend. I’m fucking twenty years older than you.” My angry voice didn’t match the way I felt inside, fucking eager and ready to spread open her legs and fuck her on that table.

“So? I’m eighteen. I can do what I want. And who I want,” she argued back. “What, you don’t think I’m good enough to fuck?”

Her voice was strained and full of hurt.

I quickly shook my head. “You don’t think I want to fuck you? No. You’re too good for me to fuck. You’re too fucking pure. Too fucking beautiful and sweet.”

She smiled quickly, but the knock at the door made both of us jump. Sloane hurriedly pulled the paper blanket down, finally covering her ass.

“Better?” She raised an eyebrow at me, almost mockingly.

I didn’t answer. “Come in,” I called out.