Savior: A Tattered Club Story (Tattered Social Club Series Book 1) by Pauline Allan
Authors: Pauline Allan
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his T-shirt tightened. God, he loved a man with strong forearms. “This looks perfect. Put your arms up and relax. Keep breathing. The pain is worse in the beginning. If you need a break, let me know.”
Fear pieced through Ethan’s brain and while, yes, he desperately wanted the tattoo, he was terrified for Niko to get started. “Don’t…don’t let me pass out, okay? I’m nervous.”
The way Niko’s lips tipped into a grin didn’t help the hard-on rocking in his underwear. “Breathe.”
Ethan nodded and turned to stare at silver metal tiles on the ceiling. The flashes from the overhead light spread across the embossed design. So beautiful. The mattress was so comfortable, he almost forgot he was about to get poked a million times with a sharp needle. He thought of the razor. Would this feel the same?
His eyes drifted closed. “Mmm...” A warm hand caressed the sensitive skin above the waistband of his pants.
“I’m gonna need you to...” Niko’s voice barely hummed as a callused fingertip rubbed back and forth. Slowly, tempting. Ethan felt the tip of his cock pulse. “You have to...” The tender strokes slid up...up until the rough tip of his finger skimmed over one of the long raised strips on Ethan’s stomach.
Panic tripped through Ethan as chest levitated and crashed. “Please don’t.”
The warmth seeping through his torso drew away. “Roll onto your side. Unzip your shorts. I need the top of your hip.”
Ethan moved onto his side, grateful to hide the scars Niko had been touching. No one had ever touched his stomach. For one, the scars were usually in various stages of healing and, two, no one cared to.
He tugged on the zipper and shimmied his hip a little to pull the waistband of his shorts down. “Is that far enough?”
“Jesus Christ,” Niko mumbled before the hum of the gun sputtered on and off. Jay Z played softly in the background as the gun fired up again. “Relax and breathe. Let me know when you need a break. Lift your head.”
A pillow was shoved under Ethan’s head. “Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes then opening to focus on the bright artwork. Had Niko painted the pictures or had someone—“Holy shit!”
Niko grunted and laughed. “The first bite is always the worst. Talk to me. It helps.”
Ethan did his best to breathe like Niko had said, but the tiny piercing spikes took the air out of his lungs. “I never...took you...for the talking type.”
“Yeah, well.” Ethan felt the drag of a paper towel skim across his heated skin. “I’m not. Sometimes I’m a therapist and shit when people are in here.”
“I don’t need a therapist. Is this supposed to hurt this bad?”
“Yeah, I’m sticking a needle in your skin.” The hum of the gun slowed. “It hurts this bad. It gets easier.” Waiting for the easier, Ethan sank his head deeper into the pillow. “So, you going to tell me about the old guy in the car or am I gonna have to imagine why in the hell he’s got you by the balls? I know who he is. I’ve seen him in Monthly Business Journal . The Professor keeps issues in the lobby. What is a nineteen-year-old kid doing fucking the biggest married real estate asshole in the city?”
“Separated real estate asshole,” Ethan said, annoyed that Niko would bring it up at all. The needle scraped across his skin, sending stinging ribbons along the top of his hip. “Next subject.”
*****
Niko rinsed the gun in a cup of clean water. How in the hell did the kid get himself in such a shit situation? The way he’d snapped was clear he must’ve been pretty desperate. Most guys wanted up after an hour for a smoke or stretch, but not Ethan. Niko was impressed. Not a slight movement. The three hours that had passed in what felt like a second.
Niko hung his head. After the bonehead comment, Ethan had clammed up and his opportunity to get to know him was shot out the fucking window. Why did he care? It wasn’t like they were friends. Hell, they
Fear pieced through Ethan’s brain and while, yes, he desperately wanted the tattoo, he was terrified for Niko to get started. “Don’t…don’t let me pass out, okay? I’m nervous.”
The way Niko’s lips tipped into a grin didn’t help the hard-on rocking in his underwear. “Breathe.”
Ethan nodded and turned to stare at silver metal tiles on the ceiling. The flashes from the overhead light spread across the embossed design. So beautiful. The mattress was so comfortable, he almost forgot he was about to get poked a million times with a sharp needle. He thought of the razor. Would this feel the same?
His eyes drifted closed. “Mmm...” A warm hand caressed the sensitive skin above the waistband of his pants.
“I’m gonna need you to...” Niko’s voice barely hummed as a callused fingertip rubbed back and forth. Slowly, tempting. Ethan felt the tip of his cock pulse. “You have to...” The tender strokes slid up...up until the rough tip of his finger skimmed over one of the long raised strips on Ethan’s stomach.
Panic tripped through Ethan as chest levitated and crashed. “Please don’t.”
The warmth seeping through his torso drew away. “Roll onto your side. Unzip your shorts. I need the top of your hip.”
Ethan moved onto his side, grateful to hide the scars Niko had been touching. No one had ever touched his stomach. For one, the scars were usually in various stages of healing and, two, no one cared to.
He tugged on the zipper and shimmied his hip a little to pull the waistband of his shorts down. “Is that far enough?”
“Jesus Christ,” Niko mumbled before the hum of the gun sputtered on and off. Jay Z played softly in the background as the gun fired up again. “Relax and breathe. Let me know when you need a break. Lift your head.”
A pillow was shoved under Ethan’s head. “Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes then opening to focus on the bright artwork. Had Niko painted the pictures or had someone—“Holy shit!”
Niko grunted and laughed. “The first bite is always the worst. Talk to me. It helps.”
Ethan did his best to breathe like Niko had said, but the tiny piercing spikes took the air out of his lungs. “I never...took you...for the talking type.”
“Yeah, well.” Ethan felt the drag of a paper towel skim across his heated skin. “I’m not. Sometimes I’m a therapist and shit when people are in here.”
“I don’t need a therapist. Is this supposed to hurt this bad?”
“Yeah, I’m sticking a needle in your skin.” The hum of the gun slowed. “It hurts this bad. It gets easier.” Waiting for the easier, Ethan sank his head deeper into the pillow. “So, you going to tell me about the old guy in the car or am I gonna have to imagine why in the hell he’s got you by the balls? I know who he is. I’ve seen him in Monthly Business Journal . The Professor keeps issues in the lobby. What is a nineteen-year-old kid doing fucking the biggest married real estate asshole in the city?”
“Separated real estate asshole,” Ethan said, annoyed that Niko would bring it up at all. The needle scraped across his skin, sending stinging ribbons along the top of his hip. “Next subject.”
*****
Niko rinsed the gun in a cup of clean water. How in the hell did the kid get himself in such a shit situation? The way he’d snapped was clear he must’ve been pretty desperate. Most guys wanted up after an hour for a smoke or stretch, but not Ethan. Niko was impressed. Not a slight movement. The three hours that had passed in what felt like a second.
Niko hung his head. After the bonehead comment, Ethan had clammed up and his opportunity to get to know him was shot out the fucking window. Why did he care? It wasn’t like they were friends. Hell, they
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