The Tattoo Artist (La Petite Mort #1)

8. Chapter 8

eight

Quinn

" Y ou know what? I just remembered Sophie is coming to pick me up," I blurted out, my fingers playing with the ends of my hair. "Thank you, Isaac. Goodnight," I said, and as my hand reached the handle to open the door, the locks were turned on, and I was unable to.

Alexander child-locked the doors. My head snapped toward him, and I watched his fingers hover over the buttons.I looked back up into the mirror and saw a sinister smile on Alexander's face. I gulped and settled back into my seat. My gaze locked on his for a few moments longer before he looked back onto the road.

"I'll take you home first παππο??." (I'll take you home first, Grandpa.")

"Then I'll take your friend home." He switched on his car, the wipers turning on as they swept the rain away.

"Just to the bus stop is fine," I repeated, my voice a lot more confident. Hoping he took the hint .

"No. It's dangerous," he warned, and I stayed silent. I couldn't complain; he was giving me a ride. Issac looked at the two of us, and I took my sketchbook out. I suddenly felt inspiration come to my mind. I looked up at Alexander, and every time I did, he was already glaring at me. He had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear.

True to his word, we dropped off Issac first. He opened my door, and I slipped out, hugging him tight. I thanked him once again for my cranberries. He opened the front passenger door and forced me to sit in the front. He closed the door behind me. The lump in my throat was getting harder to swallow.

I was only inches away from Alexander. I didn't dare look at him. He cleared his throat, getting my attention. I turned my head to face him. "Where do you live?"

"You can drop me off by Oxford Street. If my parents find out I'm in a car with a man, they'll kill me." I rushed out, pushing my hair behind my ear. I took out my cranberries and slowly began eating them as I stared out the window. We hit traffic five minutes into our trip. And when I said traffic, I meant a lot of traffic.

"You're eighteen, Quinn. Are you telling me you're not allowed to be in a car with a man?" He asked, looking at me with those eyes that showed desire. I looked at his lips, and I could see the smirk plastered on his face as he waited for my answer. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

"Yes, my parents are very Catholic, and they're very old school," I said, opening my eyes as I looked at him. "Very old school, Alexander," I repeated, making sure he knew how serious I was.

He focused his attention back on the road, and I returned to eating my cranberries, shoving a handful of cranberries into my mouth. Damn, these were amazing! I couldn't help but gawk down at his hands, tattoos everywhere.

W hich made me wonder if he had ever practiced on himself. He was talented, without a doubt, in my mind. I wonder if his entire body was covered in ink.

"How many tattoos do you have?" He glanced at me and then down at his hands, obviously catching me staring.

"Too many to count," he stated.

He was probably right, but I would have taken my time tracing and counting each one of his tattoos. Wait, where did that thought come from?

"Which one are you absolutely in love with?" He looked at me for a moment and then started driving again. But just when I thought he wouldn't answer me, he raised his hand and showed me the butterfly tattoo.

"Why?" He shrugged his shoulders, putting his hand back on the wheel. I chuckled to myself because there was no way we would ever move anytime soon; we were once again stuck in traffic. I sighed, and my shoulders sagged a little. Why was he not as fun as last time? No thrill or adrenaline was coming from him. I took another handful of cranberries and shoved them into my mouth. "And who said I wasn't?"

Fuck!

Did I say that aloud? His green luminescent eyes captured mine; his eyes traced down to my lips, and he raised his thumb and wiped the bottom of my lips before holding it to my mouth.

I looked down to see cranberry juice on his skin. I licked my lips, and before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth and licked the juice off his thumb.

My lips wrapped around his thumb, sucking it lightly when I suddenly realized what I had done. I pulled away instantly.

I could feel myself heat up. My face felt like it was on fire, and just from that, I knew my cheeks were blushing crimson .

"What time do you have to be home?" He questioned, staring at my reddened face. Red—the color of my pumping blood.

"In an hour or two. I usually go the long way, taking me a bit longer to walk." I replied, almost too low for him to hear. I couldn't look into his eyes after what I just did. What was wrong with me? Who sucked a thumb only days of knowing someone?

The traffic started to depart, and he merged onto the next lane, missing the exit for St. James Street, and continued to drive the I-95 towards downtown. My eyes widened, and my parents warned me about this. He was kidnapping me.

I was getting kidnapped.

My hand went to check the door, and my gaze dropped to the unlock switch.

"I'm not kidnapping you, at least not yet," he joked. I could feel his gaze on me, and he chuckled. Something inside me flared up, and the arousal I had felt from sucking his thumb was no longer there. I felt irritated that he thought this was funny.

"How can I trust you? I literally only met you twice." I said, showing him two of my fingers as my eyes gave him the death glare.

"I mean, you did suck my thumb," he teased, his eyes darker and pupils dilated. I followed his movement as he adjusted the bulge protruding from his trousers.

"You can't, Princess. That's the thrill of it." His lips upturned into almost a sadistic smirk. I gulped and looked around the car before settling back down onto the seat. I held the container of cranberries tightly—the nerve of this asshole.

As we entered Main Street, I started to see the road was full of shops, from a small bookshop to a small bakery. He parked outside the tattoo shop. I read the sign Terror Ink Tattoo. He got out of the car after turning off the ignition. I left the container and my backpack inside, slipped out of the car, and followed after him. Alexander pulled the keys from his back pocket and crouched to unlock the cage covering the entryway. It was clever, especially since this was a bad neighborhood. He pushed the cage open and unlocked the door.

"Come on," he said, grabbing my hand and dragging me inside. He closed the door behind him and started to walk down the little corridor, turning on the lights to the shop. I followed him. He opened the door to one of the rooms further down the corridor. I stepped inside and recognized it was the same room as last time.

"Is your boss okay with you coming here with me? You won't get in trouble, will you?" I was a little worried. I didn't want him to get in trouble or fired, mainly because he brought me here after hours.

"I think so," he answered nonchalantly. I took a seat on one of the chairs beside the long tattoo bed table thing.

"Are you sure?" I continued to worry.

Alexander's gaze met mine, and he nodded his head. "Yes!" He chuckled, and for some strange reason, I pressed my thighs tightly. Knowing he wouldn't get fired, I felt a bit more relaxed. He took a seat in front of me, sitting on the tattoo artist's chair. He took out a drawing pen and handed it over to me. I stared at the pen, not knowing exactly what he wanted me to do.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, my voice sounding a bit breathy. Alexander grabbed my hand and placed the pen, and I immediately felt shocks taking over my body from his simple touch. I retracted my hand immediately, gripping the pen tightly. He stood from the chair and slid his shirt over his head as he threw it to the side .

My eyes widened, and my throat dried. I looked away, but only for a second or two. I couldn't help but take a peek. I swallowed as I stared shamelessly at him. My first time seeing a half-naked man.

Oh my God!

His body was absolutely beautiful, sculpted by the Greek Gods themselves.His muscles were proof of that statement. He obviously took care of his appearance and hit the gym quite hard.

He put effort into looking this hot. His chest was stiff, and his shoulders were broad, large, and wide. He definitely had an eight-pack, and his stomach had abdominal muscles for days.

My eyes went lower, and holy moly. The V-shape protruding from his trousers had my mouth watering and my mind racing with the need to lick it. My eyes made their way back up his broad body, and I took everything in. His arms are covered in tattoos, along with his torso, except for his chest.

"What do you want me to do?" I held the pen like it was a gun or something. He glanced down at me, staring into my eyes.

"Draw me something to tattoo. Leave your mark, baby," he said as he lay down on the bed. Alexander was on his back, his biceps flexed when he rested his arms under his head.

"W—what? Are you being serious?" I looked down at him, and he nodded his head.

"You only have one and a half hours left to draw. Get drawing, μωρ?."("Get drawing, baby.")

"Anything?" I questioned, a small smile spreading across my face. I moved closer to him and sat on the chair he was in before—the artist's chair. I grabbed my AirPods from my front pocket. I was not going to pass this offer up. I wanted to leave my mark on him. I wanted him to carry me every single second of his life. I bit my bottom lip as I thought about what to draw. My AirPods started to play my favorite song.

"Can I?" He nodded when I asked permission to lean my hand on his body. I moved the chair closer to him and leaned my body against his so that I could easily access his chest, and my hand started to draw. This was my first time touching a man.

A beautiful man.

A man with a fantastic body.

I pressed my hands onto the left side of his chest. He breathed in, and I once again felt an electric shock. There was so much tension, but I ignored it and continued to draw. I drew the first thing that came to my heart, and halfway in, I began to see that what I was drawing was a butterfly between his chest. Not just any butterfly but a blue morpho. I had no idea why, but I guess because of the tattoo on his hand and the name he called me.

It looked emotional.

It looked significant.

It looked valuable.

I drew the butterfly and added as many details as possible to make it look realistic. Alexander didn't mind; he just lay there watching the pen stroke his body.

"Get on the bed," I ordered him. I watched him walk over to the tattoo chair, which currently had the backrest and leg rest in a flat position. He laid on his back, and I straddled him. I leaned forward, lying down so that I could draw on his neck.

The pen stroked his skin gently and then harder as I shaded in the design. His arms rested on my ass as he kneaded my cheeks before slapping them, causing me to whimper.

I paused, too distracted by his wandering hands. He lifted my dress, his hands moved up my thighs and gave them a good squeeze, his cock twitching behind his zipper. He ran his hands up to my waist, hooking his thumbs to the waistband of my panties—he was teasing me.

"Alex, please," I begged him.

I watched him smirk at me before I crashed my lips onto his. He dragged my panties to the side, running two of his fingers down my slit.

I gasped.

I pulled away, sliding my body down his so that I could remove his belt and unzip his trousers. I pulled his dick out from the confines of his boxers. I wrapped my fingers around him and pumped him.

"Angel, please," he begged me. I lined his cock to my entrance and slowly lowered myself inch by inch. My pussy swallowed his cock. I threw my head back, enjoying the feeling of his fat cock stretching me. I bounced up and down his cock as my palms lay flat against his chest for support.

"Oh God, Alex," I moaned, feeling the tip of his dick bruise my cervix. He was big, so fucking big.

I closed my eyes and opened them only to be met with a faceless man.

What the fuck?

"Quinn. Quinn. Quinn," Alexander repeated. I snapped back from the vivid memory that flooded my mind moments ago.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, his voice laced with concern. I nodded my head, unable to speak. My focus returned to his chest, and I noticed I had smudged the butterfly.

"Shit," I muttered to myself. Taking my index finger into my mouth, I licked it before using it to clean the smudge off. His eyes connected with mine and to my licked finger. I leaned back, no longer hovering over him. I needed to make sure it was symmetrical. I took a look and saw that it was in the center of his chest.

I then drew some leaves on each side of his collarbones and continued to draw, but I wasn't even close to finishing. My phone pinged with a notification, and I saw that my mother's contact was plastered on my screen. I unlocked my phone and read the message asking me when I was coming home.

"I have to go. My mother is asking what time I'll be home." Alexander nodded his head. He went to stand up, but I stopped him, pushing him back onto the bed. "Wait! You can't look at it." I grabbed his shirt from the side and handed it to him. "I'll come by tomorrow to finish it off. If you want, of course."

"Come by at five."

"You promise not to look at it?"

He smirked his panty-dropping grin. "Guess you're going to have to trust me, Princess."