Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4) Read online

  "They can't be as scary as this one. I'm sure I'll be fine." Biff throws her head back and laughs. I'm not sure if it's because the others really are scary or if she thinks I'm lying. I'm not. Even knowing who our fathers are—were—and what they're capable of, Dawson still scares me more than anyone because he has too much power. He owns my heart—always has, which means he’s capable of breaking me like no other.

  "Oh, just you wait. They’re going to love you."

  I swallow nervously as Dawson tugs me toward a small hallway.

  "You two want coffees or anything?"

  "No, we're good, thanks. Probably best if you just leave us to it." My cheeks heat at the silent meaning in his words.

  "You got it. My lips are sealed."

  "Appreciated."

  "So," I say, following him into a room that is just so… him that it takes my breath away. Everything is dark and leather. My entire body tingles as if I'm surrounded by him—well, I am, despite the fact that he’s physically on the other side of the room. "You're an artist."

  "Yeah, I'm surprised you didn't guess."

  "Me too, to be honest. Seems pretty obvious now I'm here." I stare at the walls that display his work. "These are stunning. I knew you could draw but… wow."

  "Thanks. After you... left, it was the only thing that would help. I used to sketch for hours when I wasn't drunk or high. Finally, I enrolled in art school and the guy who owned this place back then gave me a lucky break. I've never looked back.”

  "Who owns it now?" I ask, half expecting him to say that he does.

  "Zach, Biff's other half. There are four of us who work here. Biff and my boy Spike's girl are training." I nod, continuing to take in his work.

  Each and every single piece tells me something about him. I reach out and run my fingertip over a couple of the more poignant, heart-breaking designs. Until I come to a portrait of a girl.

  "Holy shit," I breathe.

  "I never could quite let you go." His heat burns my back as he comes to stand behind me and wraps his arm around my waist.

  "It's almost like a photograph." I stare in awe. He's captured every single one of my features.

  "I used to draw you while you were sleeping, did you know that?"

  I shake my head, too engrossed by the sketch to force out words. "You always looked so beautiful, so peaceful, yet tormented all at the same time."

  "Now you understand why," I murmur. "I was falling in love with you but knew I was going to break your heart and in turn mine. I had no idea when my father was going to pull the plug, but I knew it had to happen at some point. It was either that or we get caught."

  "I'm sorry he put you through that."

  "Me too, but I often find it hard to hate him for it." He stills behind me. "He brought me you, Dawson. Despite the fact that it was based on a lie, you have always been the sole most important thing that ever happened to me. I might have wished for it to be on different terms, but I could never regret the time we had together."

  I spin in his arms and look up at him, needing him to know that I mean every word I'm saying.

  "You taught me so much." Sliding my palm up his chest, I wrap it around the back of his neck and pull his brow down to mine. "You taught me how to love. You taught me what true happiness was."

  His breath catches as we stand staring at each other. My lips twitch to kiss him, to drown in him, but I still want him to take the lead on that. It seems like such a big deal to him.

  "Get on the chair, baby girl."

  My stomach explodes with nerves.

  He stares at me for another few seconds, his eyes getting darker, hungrier until I do as I'm told and break our connection.

  I climb up on his black leather chair and wait. He keeps his back to me for a few moments, as if he needs to compose himself, before he turns on me and stalks over. I can't help thinking that I'm his prey right now with his slow, haunting movements.

  He lowers himself to a wheelie stool and moves closer.

  "W-what are you going to do?" I stutter, my nerves getting the better of me.

  "I've got so many ideas flying around my head," he admits.

  "O-okay. I don't want anything big," I blurt, and he looks up at me with a raised brow.

  "Oh, baby girl. I have it on good authority that you're very good with... big things."

  "Yeah, two very different things there, Dawson." Although as I say the words, I wonder if he's right. Those couple of times we've been together, I thought they were about revenge, about him hurting me. Now I'm wondering if really he was claiming me, much like he's about to do by branding my skin.

  "If you say so."

  He pushes his hand into his jeans pocket and pulls something out.

  "You remember this?"

  I gasp as he holds his finger up and I find a very familiar black leather bracelet dangling from it. "I can't believe you still have this."

  Gently, I take the piece of jewellery from him and hold it in front of me. We'd bought matching ones when we'd gone out of town so we could be together.

  The piece itself is simple, just a piece of leather with an infinity charm sitting in the middle, but the meaning behind it is so much stronger.

  I rub my thumb over the worn leather.

  "I've got everything from our time together."

  Emotion clogs my throat and tears burn the backs of my eyes.

  "I've still got mine too," I force out.

  His eyes find mine and something shifts between us. With that one look, any doubt or fear I had about his intentions and where this is going vanish, because I realise that I don't care. This could last two weeks, two years, or forever, and I could never regret having a second chance with him, no matter what the consequences might be.

  "Do it," I say. "Whatever’s in your head. Do it."

  "You have no idea what you're asking for, baby girl."

  "Maybe not. But I'm willing to find out."

  "Fuck," he barks, startling me a little. "You're fucking perfect."

  His eyes drop from mine and trail down my body. It heats under his stare, and I start to wish I wasn't here just for some ink.

  "Anywhere you've always wanted one?" I shake my head. Like everyone I'm sure, I've thought about it over the years, but I've never been brave enough or come up with anything meaningful enough to permanently mark my skin with. But being here right now, I already know that anything that Dawson creates will mean the world to me.

  "Your choice." The smile that curls at his lips would knock me on my arse if I weren't already sitting down.

  He wheels himself to the end of the chair and reaches for my waistband.

  I swallow the desire that threatens to bubble at the thought of him undressing me.

  He pops the button open before I lift up to help him pull them over my hips. He peels the fabric down my legs, stopping to tug my boots off and drop them to the floor, then pulls my jeans from my feet.

  He chuckles when he sees the little motorbikes on my socks, but he doesn't allow them to stay and they join my jeans on the floor.

  "Now, that's what I'm talking about." He runs his eyes up my bare legs until he hits the lace covering me. Sitting forward, I pull off my jacket, suddenly too hot to stand having it on.

  Reaching down, he rearranges himself, his eyes still locked on me.

  "I really hope you don't have this reaction to all your clients."

  "Only you, baby girl."

  "Good to know."

  "I should probably admit that I mostly work on ugly MC guys," he says with a laugh, but it cuts off as I tense. "Don't worry. It's my day off, and I know what clients the guys have. I wouldn't put you in that situation."

  I nod at him, feeling myself relax at his words.

  "So, what's the plan?"

  "You want to see?"

  "You've already drawn it?"

  "Of course I have. Many times."

  My lips part to respond, but I'm too shocked to say anything.

  Standing, he leave
s me sitting there speechless while he gets himself ready.

  I don't come back to myself until he snaps some gloves on and settles beside me, wiping the skin of my thigh clean.

  "H-here?"

  "Yep."

  "Is it... is it big?"

  "It can be," he says cryptically. "But we'll start small and we can add to it if you wish.

  "O-okay."

  "Do you trust me, Piper?"

  "I... I do. With my life."

  He smiles for a beat before reaching out and making me squeal when he flattens the chair to a bed in one swift move.

  "A little warning would have been nice," I grumble, my heart pounding in my chest.

  "And ruin the element of surprise? Never. You ready?"

  "Aren't you going to trace the design out or something?" The reality is that my knowledge of tattoo artists is limited to TV shows, so I don't really know what I'm talking about.

  "I thought you trusted me." He winks before turning his machine on.

  The ominous buzz fills the room and my body trembles.

  "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

  "It's nothing you can't handle, baby."

  I gasp the second the needle hits my skin.

  My eyes lock on the patch of skin he's marking, unable to look anywhere else but the artist at work.

  "It's not that bad," I admit after a few minutes.

  "That's good, baby, because you've got a long way to go yet. Relax, just let me do my thing."

  As much as I want to watch him, my eyes are heavy despite the pain radiating from his actions. I rest my head back and close my eyes.

  I don't fall asleep—at least, I'm pretty sure I don't—but equally, I don't have any idea of how much time has passed when the buzzing stops and he wipes at my skin one last time.

  "All done. You can look now."

  Ripping my eyes open, I stare up at the ceiling for a beat. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't trying to imagine what he might have been inking on my skin. Thoughts of him getting his revenge on me almost had me looking down to ensure he wasn't writing 'traitor' or something equally as awful down my thigh.

  I blow out a breath and swallow down some courage to look at his handiwork.

  "Oh my God," I gasp, my hand coming up to cover my gawping mouth.

  19

  Dawson

  It's been years since I've felt this nervous about what my client might think of my work, but as I sit there staring at Piper, who gazes down at her thigh with her eyes wide and her hand covering what I hope is a happy-shocked mouth, my hands actually tremble.

  "Dawson," she breathes after long, agonising seconds, "it's... it's... unbelievable."

  The two of us stare down at the ink. I've been drawing the Ferris wheel design for years. Back in the months following what I thought was her death, I filled a sketchbook with drawings I did for her. I had no idea at the time that they would turn into artwork I wanted to paint on her skin. I never thought I'd get the chance.

  The lines of the Ferris wheel are black, but it's surrounded by an explosion of colour, roses, and infinity symbols, along with a few other things I remember from our time together. It's only a part of the design I have for her. I could cover her entire body with images that remind me of her, but I'm happy to at least have started. It might take her a while to find it, but nestled in with all the ink is my name. Because she is mine. No matter what happens from here on out, she belongs to me. She always has and always will.

  "I can't stop looking at it," she whispers, her hand hovering over it as if she wants to trace the lines.

  "You like it?"

  "Are you kidding? It's incredible."

  When she finally lifts her eyes to mine, they're full of tears.

  "Dawson," she sobs, lifting her arms for me.

  Unable to resist, I stand and lean over her and press my lips to hers.

  I knew that kissing her would only fuel my addiction, and it seems I was right. From the moment I brushed my lips against hers in that park, doing it again is all I've been able to think about. Well, that and a few other things.

  Kissing across her jaw, I suck lightly on the soft skin of her neck, smiling when I find that she once again smells like Love Hearts.

  "God, Dawson," she moans as I kiss down her chest. She's still wearing her t-shirt, but the V is low enough to give me a taste of what she's hiding beneath.

  I lick over the swell of her breast and pull the fabric aside to get more of her.

  One hand cups her other breast and I squeeze hard, making her cry out.

  "You need to be quiet, baby girl."

  "Oh God," she moans as I pull the fabric and lace of her bra away from her nipple, sucking it into my mouth. "Fuck."

  "Hmmm... there's an idea." The vibration of my voice makes her squirm on my chair. I release her with a pop. "You need more, baby girl?"

  Pushing her shirt up, I kiss down her stomach, dipping my tongue into her navel before going lower.

  "Dawson, you can’t—"

  "Says who? This is my room, I get to make the rules."

  "Please tell me you don't do this often."

  "Never, Piper. No one has ever got off on this chair before."

  "G-good."

  "I'm pretty sure I'm never going to be able to look at it again the same though, after this."

  Wrapping my hands around her ankles, I lift them, plant her feet on the edge, and push her thighs wide, careful of her new ink.

  I hook my finger inside her lace knickers and pull them to the side, revealing what I want the most.

  "Baby girl, look how wet you are for me."

  Her pussy glistens in the harsh electric light above us and makes my mouth water.

  "Dawson, please," she begs as I trail a finger through her wetness, dipping it into her just enough to drive her insane.

  "Fuck, you make me crazy, baby girl."

  I dive for her, licking from her entrance right up to her clit. I circle it a few times as she writhes against me.

  "Soon," I murmur, replacing my tongue with my finger. "I'm going to pierce you... right... here." I press my finger to where it would sit.

  "Oh fuck."

  "You want that, baby?"

  "Yes, Dawson. Anything."

  A smile pulls at my lips at the thought of teasing it with my tongue, knowing that I'm the only one who knows it exists.

  "Soon, baby. Right now, I need you in full working condition."

  Dropping lower, I plunge my tongue inside her and pinch her clit. She cries out before slamming her hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep it down.

  In seconds she falls over the edge as her thighs clamp me in place.

  When she finally releases me, I sit up, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and stare down at her. Her legs have fallen limp over the edges of the chair and her chest is heaving with exertion.

  "You taste like heaven, baby girl."

  "Hmm..." Her eyes drop down my body to where my cock is trying to punch through my jeans. "I'm still waiting to find out just how you taste these days."

  "We should get out of here, and maybe I'll let you find out."

  She looks around the room, but if she's trying to see outside, she'll be shit out of luck.

  "What time is it?"

  "Late."

  "Jesus, how long have I been lying here?"

  I pull my phone from my pocket. "About five hours."

  "Five hours?"

  "Let me wrap you up and we'll get out of here."

  "Okay," she agrees, her eyes following me around the room as I tidy up after myself and grab what I need.

  "You're not going to be able to wear your jeans, they're too tight,” I tell her after finishing up.

  "Err... I can hardly walk out of here in my knickers, Dawson."

  "The guys have seen worse, I can assure you."

  "Hey," she complains, swatting my shoulder.

  "I'll see if Biff has anything you can borrow."

  "N-no, I don't want—"
<
br />   "It won't be an issue. Just wait here."

  I sit the chair up, making it easier for her to get up and stretch her legs and then slip from the room, it seems at exactly the same time Biff emerges from Zach's.

  "Have fun in there?" she asks me with a knowing wink.

  "She wasn't quiet enough, huh?"

  "Not even close, D. Tell me you got some ink on her first." She chuckles as I follow her down to reception.

  "I did, which is why I need a favour."

  "Shoot," she says, tidying up her desk, ready to close for the night.

  "She can't wear her jeans, they're too tight. You got something she can borrow?"

  Biff turns to me and places her hand on her hip, assessing me.

  "On one condition."

  "Oh?" Biff has never asked anything of me before, so this makes me very curious.

  "It's Kas's birthday. We're all going out. You and your girl agree to come, and I'll sort her out with something suitable."

  I want to say no, to take Piper home and finish what we just started, but there's something about the idea of us hanging out with my friends that just feels right.

  Before I know what I'm doing, I've agreed. "We're only coming for food, though. She's got work tomorrow."

  "Oh yeah, because that's the reason you don't want to spend all night with us."

  She's off down the corridor to collect my girl before I have a chance to say anything.

  They're deep in conversation when I join them.

  Piper looks at me, concern filling her features.

  "It's okay. You go. I'll tidy up and wait for you in reception. Are the others nearly finished?" I ask Biff.

  "Yep, all done. Your girl here is our final client of the night. I don't think the others enjoyed their time quite as much, mind you."

  Piper's face flushes red. "Don't worry, girl. We've all been there."

  "My ears," I complain, walking around them to my desk.

  "Pfft." I don't need to look at Biff to know she's rolling her eyes at me. “Come on, I think I've got the perfect thing for you."

  I turn and watch them both leave, my eyes locking on Piper's almost bare arse in her tiny knickers. Reaching down, I once again rearrange myself. This is going to be the longest night ever.