INKED 8: A Tattoo Shop Reverse Harem - Page 17

My brother always says that I have a crazy imagination. My brain doesn’t switch off. It likes twisty situations, and it likes challenging puzzles.

Kyla is like a Rubik’s cube that’s just out of the box. All the colors are ordered because no one’s had any fun. Kyla needs us to twist her colors into a kaleidoscope. She needs to be played with until her stickers are peeling, and her joints are squeaking.

“What if I had an idea?” I say, still puzzling through all the crazy iterations in my brain.

Dawn takes a long sip of the red cocktail through her straw and then clutches the side of her head. “Brain freeze!” she gasps. “Tell me your idea.”

“Maybe we could be Kyla’s man-buffet. We could make it a game. Something that she could feel in control of. We can each write our kink on a piece of paper and put it in a bowl. Kyla could pick one whenever she was in the mood, and we’d deliver on an evening that is all about her experiencing new things.”

I’m expecting Dawn to ask more questions. Maybe try to find out what kinks I’m talking about, or at least whether we’re all single and good guys. Instead, she rests her cocktail on the bar and throws her arms around me. “I knew Kyla was meant to come and work with y’all. I just knew it. All of this is her destiny.”

“Well, I’m not sure about destiny, but she’ll have a great time if nothing else.”

“So will you.” The look in Dawn’s emerald eyes can only be described as filthy. If I didn’t already know what kind of person she is, I’d wonder about her willingness to pimp out her friend, but this just fits with Dawn’s motto for her own life.

YOLO. It’s such a ridiculous phrase, but I get why Dawn feels so passionately about living her life that way. None of us know when we might be checking out. We only have so many years while we’re still young and able to do crazy things. With age comes responsibility and expectations, and our ability to step outside of all that is curtailed.

It’s been a while since I let my hair down; a while since any of us did. The shop has taken over all our lives, and like Kyla, we’ve had bad experiences with relationships in the past. There’s been a hiatus from women in Ink Factor for the last three months that needs to be broken.

If I can convince Kyla, I know the rest of my buddies will be on board. How could they not be?

Kyla picks that moment to turn from Carl, and our eyes meet across the crowded bar. It’s like she knows I’m thinking about her, and a thread of awareness has hooked us to one another. I bite my bottom lip as my idea spreads like warm chocolate through my mind.

Can I convince her?

The rising blush on her cheeks tells me I can.

There isn’t much that can’t be accomplished with positive thinking and a little planning.

By the end of the night, I’ll have her fully converted to the idea. And I’ll deal with Carl tomorrow.

9

KYLA

Ever since Dawn and I arrived at the bar, the guys have been looking at me funny. Even though Carl has been talking to me about the new booking system, my heart hasn’t stopped thumping against my ribs.

Could I be any more mortified?

Definitely not.

Seriously, I should have just stood up on my first day and told them all I’m a sexually frustrated hermit who thinks they’re all sexy enough to lick chocolate off.

At least it would have been upfront.

This time, I have no idea what Noah heard or how he’s relayed it to the rest. I have no idea how they reacted either.

My cheeks tingle with mortification, and I down the rest of the cocktail that Dawn returned from the bar clutching. She had an odd grin on her face that definitely spells trouble. Probably not trouble for her either. Most likely trouble for me.

I make my way to the restroom, using the time alone in the cubicle to relive my utterly devastating levels of embarrassment. At the mirror, I press my cool hands against my cheeks and smooth the frizz out of my hair while I try to reverse my seemingly never-ending blush with a pep talk.

Get a grip, Kyla. It’s only sex. It’s natural for women to think about sex. It’s natural for them to think about sex with eight tattooed gods. They’re probably not even surprised. This is probably par for the course for such gorgeous specimens of manhood. In fact, they’d probably have been more shocked to hear that I wasn’t thinking about jumping their bones.

It doesn’t have to change a thing, I tell myself. Just get on with the night like nothing happened. If I don’t bring it up, maybe none of them will.

Tags: Stephanie Brother Erotic
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