𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝟏𝟖+

| 𝟎.𝟗

—

"Let me distract you."

—

I stood by a mini-bar with Ozzie's girlfriend, Ryan. She's super sweet, with big hazel eyes and straight red hair. "Where did the guys run off to?" I speak against her ear due to the loud music.

"Probably tattooing random people. On nights like these, they do discounts, free miniature stuff, and competitions. You plan on getting a tattoo?" She asks gleefully.

My mind was still in shambles from earlier; my nipples tingled and remained hard. I discreetly place a hand over one and blush at how sensitive they are. Naturally, I have always been keen, but this was on another level. I gaze around the room when my eyes land on Creed, who happens to be already looking this way. "I might. I already got one thing tonight; why not get another."

She claps her hands ecstatically and grabs my wrists tugging me in his direction. I compel myself not to halt our movement and run for the hills, pushing myself to be confident. It feels nice to get out for a change and have some free time to myself. Back in Arizona, I was either working, caring for Riley, or caring for mom. I barely have to worry about Abuela cause she's such a busybody, which I'm somewhat thankful for. I feel content being able to properly take care of myself without feeling like I need to pause my life for others.

"Hey C, Jamie was thinking of getting a tattoo," Ryan says as she pulls me beside her.

I chuckle and lean into her, still staring at Creed. "You gonna hook me up."

"I don't have a choice," Creed replies sarcastically.

Ryan and I follow him to what looks like a private booth instead of the public one where you can see others get tattooed. We looked at each other with furrowed brows, more so me than her.

"Don't want her on display, C?" Ryan teases and nudges my rib.

Creed didn't laugh though, and only side-eyes us before telling me to sit on the chair. I scooched in and handed a big binder of tattoos. I looked through it for a few minutes and didn't bother eavesdropping as Ryan conversated with Creed.

I flip a page and then stop; this one. "I like this one," I call Creed over.

I choose two cherries, but instead of them being cherries, they're hearts. I then noticed that Ryan had left. "I want it on my ass," I blurt out.

Creed drops the ink bottle but catches it before it hits the floor. His eyes shifted, and a fleeting look of lewdness crossed his impure face. "You just can't do modesty, can you?"

"Modesty's grown boring, even for me. I don't know; maybe I'm pushing myself too hard to have fun." I begin to confuse myself as my attitude takes a whole three-sixty.

My chin suddenly perched on his perfectly long finger; my stomach became putty under his gleaming stare. "There's nothing wrong with being outside your little box, Jamilyn. Even the most outgoing people get bored of being immodest."

I nod; truth be told—I was scared of becoming someone I wasn't. Growing up with my mom in a Christian household held me back from doing things most teens did at the time. I felt like I missed out but couldn't bring myself to rebel. I don't want my mom's years of neglect to influence me into taking my rebellion out on my body.

I clear my throat. "I did a stick and poke when I was thirteen-look; it's a ladybug." The now slightly faded ladybug sat on my ankle, the head's botched, and I think a wing was broken? I could tell by the curl of his plump lips he wanted to laugh at it, and I don't blame him. It looks terrible.

"This will not feel like a stick and poke, but since it's not a big design, it shouldn't take long," he informs me.

As he turns his back, I slide my skirt down, revealing my black thong. I lay down on my belly and ensured enough room for him to work. "I was thinking around this area, here." I circle the sport where my hip and butt collide.

He nods silently and gets the design ready. "Black or red?"

"Red."

I use my arms and skirt as a pillow and watch him finish setting up. "Ryan's cool." An excellent conversation starter, Jamilyn; gag and eye roll.

Creed glides over on a rolling stole. "Yeah, she was our friend back in high school. She and Ozzie were off and on back then when she just kissed him in the quad one day. He was stunned, and then they skipped and—you know. They're like this dynamic duo."

I didn't jump when he expectedly planted the stencil in place, but slight fluttering trailed down my leg as he pushed down on my ass, rubbing the stencil in slow strokes. I grip my skirt tighter at the incredible feeling of his fingers through the latex gloves.

"I'm going to start now," Creed asserted.

I incline my head on my arms and twitch at the faint sound of buzzing. "Did the pain of the needle stop after a while?"

"You could say that. I think it's more of a psychological thing; you know what to expect, so you become numb to it. I get the benefit of the doubt because I can't feel pain."

My brows skyrocket. "That's crazy. Does it feel weird, then?

He shrugs. "Depending on the injury, it feels like a lot of pressure. If whatever goes deep enough, I can feel it, but on a surface level, I can't."

I tilt my head in interest and wince shortly after. "I thought my fat would protect me—Jesus!"

"You need a break?" He asked although he didn't stop his movements.

"No, keep going, please. I'd rather get it done and out of my system," I grunt against my closed fist.

"It depends on the area, fat does help with pain, but the butt has a lot of nerve endings, so it's sensitive," he mumbles, the light brush of air tumbling from his lips, leaving me in goosebumps.

I try not to shudder when I feel his face close to my ass because my clothed, wet, and quacking core is lying under it. With every breath, I thought I would burst, and his proximity didn't help. I'm so glad I took a shower. "Ain't that the fucking truth," I grumble as I internally suffer.

This continued for another twenty minutes of me trying not to have a spasm on his chair while Creed was so close yet so far. It was like he was unintentionally torturing me but knowing what he was doing simultaneously. "Done."

I groan into my skirt, "thank god."

"Thank me," Creed interjects and sprays something on me before slowly wiping it away. His hand covered my ass while the other finished wiping, and my stomach was doing flips. I squirmed under his cold hands, his fingers close to my pussy. "Does it look good?"

"Perfect," he suddenly grits.

When his hands leave me, I become cold instantly but put it in the back of my mind when I see my tattoo. It was so cute and looked sexy on the curve of my ass; two blazing red hearts winked at me, connected by their stems. "They look so good, thank you."

Creed had leaned back against the counter, watching me admire his art with a stone expression. "You want jelly to go?"

"Yes, please."

A moment flew through us, and I waited for him to hand me something when he applied lotion to his now ungloved hands.

"Lie down for me, Jamilyn."