Devour You

36

Victoria

The room is occupied with only a few other people, aside from Rio and I. And the settling crimson red lights that portray the entire dimly lit area, upon the black flooring, are rather gaiety. Deep chuckles are surrounding the flashing room, alongside the booming bass fluxing within the vague perimeter.

The cold leather is cool under my back, as the seat is rested high from the dark tiled floor. And I'm grateful I'm comfortable enough to stay put for the next hour or so, or at least until the piercing ink pen is lifted, temporarily, from my tingling and awaiting skin.
Rested in a relaxed and upright position, I peer over to Rio. He watches me quite warily, in half surprise - half hesitation on wether to believe the sight before his own dark brown orbs.

His lips are parted, doubtful to twitch. I grin at the reflecting red lights flickering across his eyes - he doesn't tear his shocked gaze from mine. I purse my lips, and turn my head to face the tatted man scooting up to me in his own rolling chair. He vestures a pair of glasses, his ocean blue irises underneath catching mine.

"I want it on my back... right above the scapula, you know, below my clavicle." I point over my shoulder, only to earn nothing but a cocked brow in return.

OK, I admit that was a bit subtle.

I lean back again, releasing a sigh. "Just below the back of my shoulder. The left side, please." I clarify kindly, offering a small smile. The tattoo artist nods firmly this time.

"You remember what it looks like, right?" I question, a pinch of worry lurking behind my tone. The buff man slouches a bit, before sending me a dumbfounded glance.

"I work for you two. Of course I-"

"Right. Sorry, sorry!" I blurt, just as he scoots even closer, simultaneously fiddling for something in the bag across his lap. Then he takes the needle into his grasp, and my teeth find themselves tugging at my bottom lip. I glimpse at the gangster, who stands with his hands folded, watching the scene before him intently. He seems to be rendered speechless.

He hasn't really spoken since we arrived here. In which speaking of, was the very first time I controlled the steering wheel of his sleek BMW. So yeah, it was awesome.
But not a word did I gather from him when I pulled into the unfamiliar lot - but I knew exactly what I pulled into.

I always wondered where and how exactly Rio and his men got their illegal tattoos. So when we visited Chris's place earlier, and when Rio had his back turned once... I took advantage of my opportunity. I asked. And from the courtesy of Chris and the use of his solemn directions, here I am.

Suddenly the vibrating, alerting sound from the tool in the artist's grip causes my attention to jolt onto him. I get situated on the leather seat my formally dressed body is plastered across; turning on my stomach for the proper access to my back. And when the man reaches to carefully unzip the back of my dress, to focus on my desired tattoo location, I hear the gang leader abruptly clear his throat instantly.

"I got that part." Rio starts lowly, beginning in his quick steps to unzip the tight black dress instead. My light brown irises widen at his authoritative dominance, but no less am I surprised.

Without having to look, I note Rio's tall figure stopping inches from my rested body. His heat is radiating. His fresh scent of light cologne and fabric softener washes over my back. Then his lulling hands deliberately travel toward my lower neck, for the zipper. And gently, he unzips the clothing halfway; the warmth of his finger trailing down my bare skin while doing so. I try not to suck in a breath, or shiver. But my toes instinctively curl.