Love and Tattoos (10 page)

“
Nope. I told you I’d show you and I will.” She sat on a nearby stool and rolled between his knees.

He hissed when she wrapped her fingers around his cock. The tip was leaking, the shaft was throbbing, and his balls were likely an angry shade of blue. “
Annie…” he ground out.

“
It won’t hurt a bit,” she whispered against the crown, licking tenderly at the clear drops of pre-cum.

“
Won’t hurt a bit.” Brax scoffed at the lie. Her blowing breath against him hurt. He wanted inside her. Her mouth. Her cunt. He’d even settle for being between the arches of her feet. The mounds of her breasts. He didn’t goddamn care. He just wanted in some part of her.

He heard a snap and a small pop and looked down. Annie had a tube of…
“Lipstick?”

She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “
Yes.” She twisted the base and put the it under the lamp. “Pink.”

Brax softened. “
What else would it be?” The question wasn’t meant to be answered.

Annie cradled his cock in her hand again, tilted her head in the other direction, pulled her bottom lip between her teeth
, and touched the stick of pink to his skin.

In
awe, in breathless wonder, Brax watched, still as a statue as she wrote her name, marking him as hers. She followed that with lightly sketched flower petals under the head. “Annie, I…” She shushed him and kept drawing. The column of pink from the tube got smaller and smaller the longer she worked on him. It wasn’t permanent, but it was most definitely a tattoo.

After several long minutes, she rolled back and looked up at him. “
Well?” she asked expectantly.

“
It’s pink.”

Annie smiled indulgently. “
We already established that.”

“
You wrote your name.”

“
But it washes off.”

“
My dick will be stained pink for a little while though.”

“
Yes.”

“
I love it. You can write your name on me anytime you want. I…” He closed his eyes at the sound that interrupted his words.

“
Is that —”

He hung his head.
“Yes.”

“
Who would be calling you at…” She swiveled around to face the clock on the wall. “It’s not even six in the morning,” she said.

“
No shit.” Brax slid sideways and made a beeline for the office. He had a sinking feeling he knew who was on the other end and there was only one reason that person would be calling so early. “Joe,” he said a little breathlessly. “Hey man,” he said into his cell phone.

Brax
turned to find Annie standing in the office doorway and where questions had appeared a few seconds ago, laughter now threatened to take over.

“
Hey. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Joe asked. “You don’t sound like you were asleep.”

“
No, no. I haven’t been to bed yet.” Brax glared at Annie and shook his finger in her direction. “Don’t you dare make a sound,” he mouthed to her.

“
You haven’t been to bed yet? Dude, why not?”

“
I ah… Wait. You’re on your way home, aren’t you?” Brax knew the answer without Joe having to offer it.

“
Yeah, you know how it is. I was bored. You get the next show.”

That had Brax smiling. He could take Annie. She
’d have a whole arsenal of material at her disposal at one of the conventions. “Deal.”

“
I’m not too far, man. Can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. Fuckin’ hate hotels,” Joe was saying. Brax had stopped listening. Annie was on her knees at his feet, licking at the small places on his cock that weren’t touched with pink.

“
H-how far is not too far?” He needed to know how long he and Annie had. Joe would show up at Brax’s place when he got to town.

“’
Bout an hour, give or take twenty minutes? Why? Why do you sound funny?”

“
I —”

“
You with a girl? Damn, B. Why didn’t you tell me? Who is she?”

“
Joe, we’ll talk when you get home.” Jesus, he didn’t want to have that talk. He wanted Annie more than he wanted his next breath. Okay, ne wanted to cum more than his next breath, and then he wanted Annie. But, Joe was his best friend…

“
She goin’ down on you?”

“
Let’s…” Brax grunted when Annie took the head between her lips. “Let’s not talk about who or what she’s doing. Just ah… I’ve got to go.”

“
No, no, no. Who are you with?” Joe’s suspicious tone cut through Brax’s lust-filled haze.

“
Joe… Please, man. Now’s the not the time.”

“
Who the fuck are you with? Are you with…?”

Brax had stepped in it and there was no getting around it. “
I gotta go.” He took a deep breath. “Annie says to tell you hi and… Yeah. That’s all.” He disconnected the call and held the power button down until the phone shut off. He tossed the piece of plastic and metal to the other side of the desk. “I should’ve known he’d call.”

“
You hung up on him.”

Brax stared at the woman at his feet.
“Yes. Suck me, Annie.”

“
You threw me under the bus, Brax.”

“
Yes. Annie, now. Suck me.” He was going out of his mind. That earlier adrenaline mixed with a whole night of lust rushed through him. He worked to soften his tone. “Please, baby.”

“
How long do we have?”

“
An hour. Long enough for you to get me off and me to get you home. He’ll have to find me to kick my ass.”

“
I can’t believe you’re scared of him. You’re a grown man.”

“
And if you were my sister and he was doing you, he’d be scared shitless too. It’s a friend thing. It’s a best-friend-keep-your-hands-off-my-sister thing.”

She appeared to be thinking about it, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth. They didn
’t have time for her to think about anything. They had time to do. Had had to admit though that being under the gun, knowing Joe was now likely breaking all speed limit laws to get home, was a huge rush.

“
I understand.” She nodded, as though coming to a decision. “I guess we better get busy then.”

Brax sighed in relief. “
Yep.”

“
Although…”

They
reall
y didn’t have time for although. “Although what?”

“
Remember earlier, when we were laying on that make shift pallet on the floor?” she asked, depositing teasing kisses to his lower abs and trailing them to his hips. Her fingertips lingered over the waves on his ribs, traced the lines of the whale…

“
Uh huh. What about it?”

“
You were playing with me. Your hands massaging me, your fingers inside me.”

Oh, he remembered that all right. “
Mmm. So soft and sexy and hot.”

“
You made me keep talking while you did that, even though I couldn’t seem to keep two thoughts in my head.”

Brax looked down at her. Shit. She was going t
o torture him. She was going to pay him back.
Shit. Shit. Shit
. And he was in love with her. “I did do that.”

“
So,” she started, her hand sliding under his balls, and her lips a scant inch from the tip of his cock, “Why classical music?”

About Lissa

Born and raised in the South and currently living in North Carolina, talented, multi-published author, Lissa Matthews, has many loves in her life: Family, friends, NASCAR, football, music of all kinds, cooking, BDSM, penning stories filled with feisty heroines and naughty heros, and last, but certainly not least, coffee.

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Coming Soon

A Decadent New Series

Lone Star Sweets

Book One, The Cupcake Cowboy

Pastry Chef Cassandra Jamieson checked her watch again. Ten more minutes had passed. Really? She sighed and fanned herself with her hand because she didn’t have anything else with her. It didn’t do her any good. She’d had no idea the line for his cupcakes would be so long in front of her, or, she turned to look, behind her. And who knew it would take to so long to order a cupcake? It was a little piece of cake and dollop of frosting. It wasn’t rocket science and it wasn’t something one’s life depended upon if they didn’t get one.

Yet, it
appeared many people took their cupcake selection pretty seriously. The mid-day sun streamed bright and scorching and chef’s jackets weren’t exactly made of the most lightweight, breathable material. She could have taken it off in her office at the culinary school, but she only thought she’d been in line for a few minutes and the few blocks she’d walked were fine, what with a little cloud cover and a slight breeze. Those two things had disappeared the second she’d spotted the line to side of the cupcake truck.

By the time she got to the order window, s
he’d be too hot to eat a cupcake, though she’d be willing to pony up every dollar she was carrying for every bottle of water the truck might have in stock.

Karma
must be laughing at her.

Three more people and she
’d be in a little shade under the retractable black and white striped awning.

The truck was painted a slick, shiny black with highly polished chrome
bumpers and wheels. An airbrushed pop-up sign in pink, complete with a black cowboy hat and boots, rested atop the roof.

Pink.

Something about that worked even though pink was often considered a feminine color and the man who owned the truck didn’t have a feminine bone in his body.

Another step forward and only
two customers in front of her.

Cass
looked up at the menu. Simple flavors of chocolate, vanilla bean, red velvet, spice cake, lemon, and coconut were listed on one board. Nothing fancy, nothing earth shattering. On the other side was the list of fillings and frostings. Those
were
fancy and earth shattering. From a basic buttercream to a triple chocolate ganache to a lemon chiffon cream cheese with blueberry preserve swirl, the frostings filled up two chalkboards. Two other chalkboards listed the fillings. One could choose from peanut butter, Bavarian cream, strawberry jam, pureed cherries jubilee, or homemade marshmallow cream made with local, micro-brewed dark beer. Beer and marshmallows? In a cupcake filling? The fifth and last board had her smiling. Titled Fun Flavors, she licked her lips to the thoughts of Toasted S’mores cupcakes, along with Blue Raspberry Velvet, and Pink Cotton Candy.

She
suddenly had an appreciation of the decision making ability required of anyone who was stood in front of the menus of The Cupcake Cowboy’s mobile bakery.

Jackson.
The Cupcake Cowboy.
Cass took in and unsteady breath then exhaled in a huff, smoothing her hair back. Not that she could see if it looked decent or not. She’d sweat enough that all her make-up was probably collecting in a pool on the sidewalk somewhere ten feet back. She knew she looked a sight and not a pretty one, but then the reason she was standing in line wasn’t pretty either and had nothing at all to do with cupcakes.

“
Next up?”

Now or never, girl.
Cass stepped forward, straightened her jacket and raised her head, waiting. The longer it took him to notice her, the more her nerves kicked in and nausea settled in her gut.

She
cleared her throat but Jackson continued writing on his little order pad. His fingers, stained with icing gels and fresh fruit juices, tightly gripped a green pencil. She’d dreamed about those fingers and what they’d feel like on her skin. . It started, this fascination with him the first day he walked into her pastry dough class. He’d had the most beautiful hands, with long, strong fingers. There were some calluses on the pads and outer edges of his palms, which she guessed were from when he worked his family’s ranch, but that didn’t detract from the reality that he had a gentle and steady, yet forceful and insistent touch with pastry. He’d had such a knack for ingredients, an incredible palate and ability to blend tastes, but he lacked the patience dough making took.

As he
progressed through his classes, she and his other instructors realized one thing about his ability. He sucked at all things pastry, except cakes, frostings, and fillings.

“
Sorry ‘bout that, ma’am. What can I get ya?” he asked as he tore the page he’d been writing on and handed it off to someone just out of sight.

“
Hello Jackson.”

He
’d head shot up just as she spoke. A surprised, wide blue gaze whipped over her face before narrowing until she could barely see the irises. He schooled his features quickly and plastered a tolerant smile on his gorgeous mouth. He was all business now. “Ms. Jamieson,” he greeted her tightly.“I didn’t expect to see you. What’ll you have?”

Could she really say it?
“To offer an apology and…and to tell you I miss you.”

“
Unnecessary, but accepted. As you can see,” he said with a sweeping gesture of his arm to encompass both the truck and growing line behind her, “you were wrong in your assessment of me and my plans for a cupcake business.”

Cass didn
’t consider herself a proud or boastful person, but this humiliating and humbling experience was not one she wished to prolong or repeat. “Yes. Which is why I’m trying to apologize.”

Jackson
waved off her comments. “Appreciated, but again, unnecessary. Now, as we are rather busy, unless you’re ordering something, I’m gonna have to ask you to step aside.”

A
nd just like that, the infuriating, hot as a Texas summer cowboy dismissed her. He motioned the woman standing behind Cass to move forward and for a moment, Cass was unable to move. Should she stand her ground or do as Jackson said, and step to the side. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to talk to her so maybe that was all she was going to get out of him. Maybe he was going to keep up this immature slight forever. Maybe there was nothing more she could or should do. He made the choice to shut her out, to forget the heat that radiated between them, and perhaps it was Cass’s turn to do the same.

Decision made, s
he turned away only to immediately turn back. She tapped the shoulder of the woman who’d taken her place in front of Jackson. “Excuse me. I wasn’t done.” Cass slipped in and let the woman’s huff roll right off her back. This thing with him was more important than some cupcake order and he was just going to have to deal with it.

He sighed.
“Ms. Jamieson, I told you I―”

“
Yes, I know what you said. You also told me I needed to order something or move, but you didn’t give me the chance.” Of course, she didn’t want a cupcake. It was too damn hot out for a cupcake. But it wasn’t too damn hot to want Jackson. Naked. Pressed against the back of his truck. Audience or not.

“
Uh huh.” He sized her up, assessed her, stared hard into her eyes. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth some seconds later. “What would you like?”

Cass made a show of perusing the menu, bu
t really hadn’t needed to. She didn’t have fancy taste, wasn’t a sophisticated connoisseur of cupcakes. She just wanted to make him as uncomfortable as he was making her. “A bottle of water and… Hmmm. How about a chocolate fudge cupcake with vanilla bean buttercream?”

He lifted a chestnut brow at her choice
, as if to say ‘Are you serious?’ “Simple enough,” he managed. “It’s on the house.”

She
opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. “Thank you.”

Jack
son shrugged. “Don’t mention it.
Teach
.”

His to
ne was light but she could still make out the veiled sarcasm. He always called her Teach when he wasn’t particularly happy with her, which toward the end of their second term together, was all the time.

She
crossed to the pick-up window on her left and waited for her cupcake.

She
’d never meant to insult him, never meant to offend him, but when he’d come to her for advice about opening a cake bakery instead of finishing school, Cass had automatically fed him the school and experience mandated rhetoric. In as polite a way as she could, she suggested that he finish school, and then give working in an established bakery a try. She told him to spend some time developing more of his skills rather than jumping into the deep end feet first.

He didn
’t take what she had to say too well. Taking criticism was not Jackson’s strong suit. He thought she didn’t believe in him, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. He had talent with a pastry bag and decorating tip, and an innate ability to put things together that shouldn’t taste right, but did.

She
’d pushed Jackson. She’d pushed him harder than any of her other students and part of it was because of her attraction to him.

The moment he walked into her eight-thirty Introduction to Pastry Arts class, the air had crackled as though saying, “He’s here.” That one man who would turn her world upside down. That elusive ‘
he
’ all the romance novels and chick flicks and fairy tales made millions off of.

She might like cakes and pies and all things fluffy, but she
’d never been a believer in love at first sight. Until Jackson.

The powerful reaction she had to
him kept her on constant edge when he was around. She’d been teaching nearly ten years and it was the first time she’d ever felt anything more than professional pride in one of her students. She’d had favorites over the years, both male and female, but she’d never dated any of them. It wasn’t against school policy per se, but it was against her personal code of ethics.

He was twenty-five years old, several years younger th
an her in fact, and though she’d never been attracted to younger men before meeting him, something about Jackson nipped and gnawed at her until she was completely smitten. He had an easy smile, a quick wit and she’d done her best not to let that fact influence either of them. To him, everything was still possible and she didn’t want him to ever lose that ‘I can do anything’ attitude. She was afraid that was what would happen if he failed at being the master of his own pastry kitchen.

Of course, he also took
every bit of warning as a challenge.

His last words
that day in her office had been his promise to prove her and his father wrong. He could make it work.

And he had, in fact, made it work. His truck was the hot new food business in San Antonio.
There was an ulterior motive too. She wanted to protect him from the harshness and incredible failure rate of the food business. The industry was hard and challenging and competitive. The professionals made it look easy but that was because they’d been at it for so long. He couldn’t seem to understand that just because he had a knack with cakes and frostings that he could make it with a bakery of his own.

“
Chocolate fudge with vanilla bean buttercream?”

“
Mine,” she answered absently, so lost in thoughts she’d nearly forgotten about the cupcake. She held out her hand and a large Latino man with black tattoos up and down his arms, grinned down at her and leaned out the window with the delicate cupcake in his hand.

The cupcake sat inside a clear plastic cup with a lid. S
he was also handed a brightly colored plastic spoon. She popped the top and took a whiff of the contents. She wanted to melt into the sidewalk.

Cass
whisked off a bit of frosting with the spoon and licked at it. She moaned in pleasure. The man was a flippin’ magician. He couldn’t get anything right with pies or tarts or breads and he burnt the hell out of or under baked cookies, but cakes and frostings and fillings? Dear God, he was a genius.

Whatever he might think of her, she
’d followed his progress from the first day he opened his business. He’d been ingenious with it, adding cocktail cupcakes complete with alcohol after dark when clubs opened and people were out having fun. During daytime hours, Jackson sold non-alcoholic cupcakes. It worked he had a rock solid business during business hours and during happy hour.

She
—

“
What are you really doing here?”

The low
drawl sent shivers down Cass's spine. She turned slowly to find Jackson leaning against the back of his truck. Arms crossed over his chest, one lean muscled leg bent and his boot resting against the metal bumper. He looked casual, like he had all day to deal with her, but his eyes gave him away. He was spoiling for a fight and she just happened to be his target. That was fine by her. She could handle the chip on his shoulder for a while. Arguing with him was worth it if it broke the silence and gave them common ground to start over on.