Read Online Dark Ink Tattoo: Ep 3 by Cassie Alexander - Free Book Online
Authors: Cassie Alexander
Tags: BluA
Ads: Link
one of the best, I felt truly listened to, a rarity in this town or any other.
“I just don’t know what happened. I should’ve been able to slaughter him. No contest at all.” My hand went for my ribs again. Danger was omnipresent, but pain? Only one other person had been able to hurt me since I’d become a vampire – my Mistress -- and I didn’t like the reminder.“It’s pretty obvious to me,” Fran said, leaning back and recrossing her legs. “You already know you’re not the only thing that goes bump in the night.”
“Shit,” I cursed. Fran was right. It was the obvious answer. I was just in denial.
“Sorry, Jack. I know how you feel about her.” Fran said, and stood up with only a slight groan to give away how much her heels hurt – but when she looked down she was wincing on my behalf.
Because she knew the only other vampire I could ask for information was the one I hated and feared most -- my Mistress, Rosalie.
“I’ll keep the freezer running for you.”
“Thanks,” I said. I polished off the whiskey in my glass, setting it down. “And I’m keeping this jacket.”
* * *
Teaser from Dark Ink Tattoo Episode Four
Jack’s Past
While your teenaged fantasies oftentimes involve bumping into teachers, former babysitters, and/or high school head cheerleaders at the strip club, none of them -- no matter how detailed -- can prepare you for when it happens in real life. Which is why I was staring slack-jawed at Dorothy – Thea – as Bruce punched me in the arm.
“Jesus, when’s the last time you saw a naked girl, Jack?”
I waved him away and kept staring. The runway was a long thing, phallically shaped, and we were at the tip of it while she was stage center near the pole, far enough away that it both could-and-couldn’t be her simultaneously, like some Schrodingerian dream.
Bruce grabbed my head and yanked it near so he wouldn’t have to shout over the music the club pumped in. “You’re embarrassing yourself – and me.”
She walked around the pole, looking out into likely darkness since all the lights were aimed at her, making all the sequins on her white bikini glint – it was like she was blindingly beautiful, too pretty to even see properly. Then she lunged forward and in, lifting herself up, long legs pointed in a dramatically suggestive V, ending in two glittering red platform heels, all the better to walk down a pornographic yellow brick road.
I turned toward him without taking my eyes off her. “I know her.”
“The fuck you do.”
But I did. I had a sudden flash of smoke and damage, a crinkle of red metal peeled up like wrapping paper on both sides of a tree and me running down to rescue her from the passenger side, as quarterback Duncan Beamm staggered out on the driver side to puke, from a likely BAL of .3 and a head contusion.
Everything afterward…. “We’re in Vegas. Bet me,” I told Bruce, as she began a slow turn.
“A hundred.”
“Done,” I said. “Go hit the ATM.”
He snorted and didn’t move. Thea spun, the muscles of her arms, her stomach, the swing of her legs, making her swirl like a slow carousel. What was it like being up there with everyone watching? Rowdier groups of men waved fistfuls of cash, shouting lewd suggestions, and she ignored them, intent on her own internal metronome, letting the music move her. When it came time for her to take off her top it seemed natural and she swung down dramatically, one leg curving up to brace against the pole, the pink perfection of her nipples on display, swaying with the music like twin poppies.
How many times in high school had I desperately wanted to see those breasts – to touch them? The closest I’d come was that day holding her to my chest in the rain, blood streaming out of a small cut on her cheek.
Want more? Get Episode 4 now.
“I just don’t know what happened. I should’ve been able to slaughter him. No contest at all.” My hand went for my ribs again. Danger was omnipresent, but pain? Only one other person had been able to hurt me since I’d become a vampire – my Mistress -- and I didn’t like the reminder.“It’s pretty obvious to me,” Fran said, leaning back and recrossing her legs. “You already know you’re not the only thing that goes bump in the night.”
“Shit,” I cursed. Fran was right. It was the obvious answer. I was just in denial.
“Sorry, Jack. I know how you feel about her.” Fran said, and stood up with only a slight groan to give away how much her heels hurt – but when she looked down she was wincing on my behalf.
Because she knew the only other vampire I could ask for information was the one I hated and feared most -- my Mistress, Rosalie.
“I’ll keep the freezer running for you.”
“Thanks,” I said. I polished off the whiskey in my glass, setting it down. “And I’m keeping this jacket.”
* * *
Teaser from Dark Ink Tattoo Episode Four
Jack’s Past
While your teenaged fantasies oftentimes involve bumping into teachers, former babysitters, and/or high school head cheerleaders at the strip club, none of them -- no matter how detailed -- can prepare you for when it happens in real life. Which is why I was staring slack-jawed at Dorothy – Thea – as Bruce punched me in the arm.
“Jesus, when’s the last time you saw a naked girl, Jack?”
I waved him away and kept staring. The runway was a long thing, phallically shaped, and we were at the tip of it while she was stage center near the pole, far enough away that it both could-and-couldn’t be her simultaneously, like some Schrodingerian dream.
Bruce grabbed my head and yanked it near so he wouldn’t have to shout over the music the club pumped in. “You’re embarrassing yourself – and me.”
She walked around the pole, looking out into likely darkness since all the lights were aimed at her, making all the sequins on her white bikini glint – it was like she was blindingly beautiful, too pretty to even see properly. Then she lunged forward and in, lifting herself up, long legs pointed in a dramatically suggestive V, ending in two glittering red platform heels, all the better to walk down a pornographic yellow brick road.
I turned toward him without taking my eyes off her. “I know her.”
“The fuck you do.”
But I did. I had a sudden flash of smoke and damage, a crinkle of red metal peeled up like wrapping paper on both sides of a tree and me running down to rescue her from the passenger side, as quarterback Duncan Beamm staggered out on the driver side to puke, from a likely BAL of .3 and a head contusion.
Everything afterward…. “We’re in Vegas. Bet me,” I told Bruce, as she began a slow turn.
“A hundred.”
“Done,” I said. “Go hit the ATM.”
He snorted and didn’t move. Thea spun, the muscles of her arms, her stomach, the swing of her legs, making her swirl like a slow carousel. What was it like being up there with everyone watching? Rowdier groups of men waved fistfuls of cash, shouting lewd suggestions, and she ignored them, intent on her own internal metronome, letting the music move her. When it came time for her to take off her top it seemed natural and she swung down dramatically, one leg curving up to brace against the pole, the pink perfection of her nipples on display, swaying with the music like twin poppies.
How many times in high school had I desperately wanted to see those breasts – to touch them? The closest I’d come was that day holding her to my chest in the rain, blood streaming out of a small cut on her cheek.
Want more? Get Episode 4 now.
Similar Books
