Gravity (Artistic Pricks Ink Book 1) (4 page)

I can admit that I like feeling needed for something more than signing a damn invoice or paycheck. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I built Pricks from the ground up and I am proud as fuck of that. I answer to no one. I don’t have to worry about money, and I take care of mine. Family and employees, it’s one and the same to me. Although, lately, it’s not the same anymore. I take on the world during the day, but the empty nights get lonely. I have found that I avoid my big, empty house more and more lately. It’s more appealing to stay at the shop where it’s busy, and people are always around to keep my mind from spinning in the silence.

Walking over, I stack the dishes into the sink. Looking out the window, I see Kionna rolling out a yoga mat on her back patio. I swear I can still feel her heart racing against my fingers, her smooth skin so soft compared to mine. Her light brown hair is pulled up in some messy looking ball, giving me a great view of her body as she bends and stretches. I don’t know much more than her name; but damn, if I don’t want to get to know her.

Get a grip Luke, you really need to get laid.

Walking out of the kitchen, I head out the back doors to get a better look. Music flows from her opened back door as I watch her body roll from one position to another with ease. Angling her body, Kionna lifts her ass into the air in some ridiculous bullshit yoga pose. I now have an unobstructed view of her backside. Any other time I would laugh. Hell, Chase went through the yoga craze for about two weeks and I teased her ass relentlessly. The idea of trying to bend and tuck into uncomfortable positions in the name of relaxation and some sort of Zen-like calm seems a bit far-fetched for me. Kionna Slade, however, could make me a believer. I can think of far better reasons for her to bend like that.

Standing to her feet, she stretches one of her long legs against the house. Bringing her knee to her nose, effortlessly, as she leans into the wall and I think my heart stops. All the blood rushing painfully to my dick so fast my damn head spins. Last night, I was jealous of a pole. Now, I’m envious of a fucking brick wall. Every breath she takes forces my gaze to her chest. My eyes zone in on the way her tits press against the fabric of her tank on every inhale. A growl rumbles up from my chest, causing the rising and falling to stop. I look up to meet her wide eyes staring back at me.

Shit. Busted.

Frantically, I look around the yard. Desperate to come up with an excuse other than ‘hey, don’t mind me I’m just eye fucking your ass.’ “Just lookin’ for the cat,” I blurt, making her brow arch skeptically. Taking a few steps closer to the stone wall, I attempt to hide the bulge raging behind my zipper.

A meow and loud hiss comes from behind her, making her scream in surprise. Attempting not to dislocate my dick, I jump the wall into her backyard to investigate. “Do you have a cat, Kionna?” I ask, stepping up onto the patio.

“No, Luke.” She replies, taking a step back from me. Her eyes run down my body, stopping where my dick is trying to rip through and wave her over.

When she takes another step back a ball of gray fur shoots between her legs, knocking her off balance. Kionna stumbles, nearly falling over as the cat dashes through the opened door, disappearing into the house. Reaching out I grab her arms, pulling her against me. “You okay?” I ask, the smell of cherry and vanilla teasing me as I run my fingers along her skin. She feels right pressed against me and don’t think my entire body doesn’t know it too. My arms slide around her waist, helping to steady her feet.

When I look down, meeting her eyes, the deep brown pools widen. Her breaths come out in little pants as the rise and fall of her breasts, pressing against the flimsy tank top, have me hanging onto my control by a thread. Every ounce of me is desperate to see if she tastes as sweet as she smells. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, worrying the plump flesh to the point it looks painful.

“We should probably see about that cat.” I manage to say after a few minutes, forcing myself to release her before I take a bite of that lip myself.

Following Kionna inside the back door, I try to push the dirty thoughts I am having about her out of my head. I have a cat to find, I remind myself. Stepping through her kitchen, I follow her up the hall. Beautiful framed photos hang on the walls, all of her. Kionna Slade the Showgirl. Pointing to one, I arch a brow. “Wow, so you’re a dancer huh?” I ask, meeting her gaze.

“Yeah, you could say that.” She shuffles from foot to foot, nervously.

“Impressive,” I reply, because hell, it is.

Kionna nods, “Um, thanks.”

When the doorbell rings, Kionna excuses herself to answer the front door. I have to force myself not to look at her ass as she walks up the hall toward, what I assume is, her living room. I look at the three doors in the hallway, two of which are closed, the other ajar. I peek around the cracked door and sitting right in the middle of the unmade bed, is the cat. Kionna’s purple sheets are strewn across the bed, still rumpled from sleeping. Visions of her lying there assault my brain as that same scent pulls at me again. “Come here you pain in the ass.”

A meow is all I get as a response as the bitchy pussy stretches her paws before curling into a ball onto the pillow. I could swear she flips me off, but I honestly don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to leave here either. Stepping around the side of the bed, I see it. My eyes lock on the pink plastic vibrator sticking out from under the sheets and my brain circuits begin to fry. My mind begins to wander to how she would look naked, sprawled across the sheets crying out as she gives herself orgasm after orgasm. Only thing better would be me giving her those orgasms. All those thoughts are going to be playing like a movie in my head for days now.

Shaking my head, I decide to deal with the pussy I’m supposed to be getting my hands on at the moment. “Come on pussy, you’ve caused enough drama for one day,” I mumble, snatching her up by the scruff of the neck.

“Her name is Precious.” My mother corrects me when I step out of the bedroom. Scooping her up, Mom pulls her tightly against her chest. “You’ve had me so worried,” She scolds, nuzzling the cat.

“Go lock her up, then I’ll take you to the store,” I say, interrupting the touching reunion.

Mom thanks Kionna and heads out the front door with her fuzzy pain in the ass. Turning my attention to the woman in front of me, I attempt to come off like I didn’t just see the sex toy on her bed. “Sorry about all the drama,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets, hoping to hide the fact that I’m still sporting wood.

“No problem, I’m just glad you found her.” Her eyes soften as we walk toward the front door.

I could ask her out. Isn’t that what a guy usually does? Yeah, I’ve asked out women before. Instead, I stand there staring at her like a complete moron. The funny thing is, she’s doing the same thing. “Thanks for everything,” I force out. “I’ll just get out of your hair. See ya around Kionna.”

Walking out of the house, I head straight to my car to wait for Mom to come out. I decide it’s a better idea to wait here instead of going back inside, that way she will hurry. The quicker the better, that way I can get back to the shop. I need to put distance between Kionna and me before I do something stupid. I think things through for the most part, methodically planning the best way to go about things. Most of the time anyway. There is that part of me, though, that’s hot headed. Chase used to say that I was just too passionate.

Was it passionate when I traded blows with Aiden in that club in Nashville? Or every time I went after Hunter to defend my sister? My family, blood or not, is my weakness. Now though, Camaron and Chase are taken care of. So I can breathe a little easier, right?

Okay, okay… I worry like a fucking mother-hen, but I’m working on it.

I’ve flown to Nashville a lot the last few months, but not just to check on my sister and Cam. I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with Jasmine, Hunter’s four year old daughter. The sweet little girl has everyone wrapped around her finger; why would I be any different? On top of Chase now planning a wedding, while touring with Shaft, they’ve also begun the paperwork to make Chase Jazzie’s legal mother, making me Uncle Luke, officially. As much as I love them all, that still doesn’t fill the space in my heart.

My first attempt at a relationship, since Crystal, was doomed from the start. I knew Camaron’s heart belonged to Aiden, but I still tried to force something that wasn’t there. Not saying we couldn’t have worked. We could have been content, satisfied I guess, but knowing that I would always be compared to him was a deal breaker. Those blues eyes told you everything you needed to know. She was his, undeniably.

Once I knew there was no spark between us, I had no choice but to get involved with getting them back together. So that she would go after him with everything she had and fight. There’s a difference between the heat of the moment and the fire that is never quenched. When I do fall in love, I don’t want that fire to go out. Ever.

“Luke,” Mom scolds walking down the driveway, pulling me from my thoughts. “With how well you do for yourself, I know you can afford a nicer car.” She scowls in disgust, appraising the car that I built from the ground up, piece by piece.

“My car is exactly what I want, Mom,” I reply, yanking open the driver side door. “No Mercedes, or pussy ass foreign car, can hold its own against this bad ass piece of machinery. I won’t put that shit in my garage,” I say proudly, knowing that the only foreign thing in my garage is Chase’s bike and I am tempted to push it out into the driveway sometimes.

“It just looks more professional, that’s all.” She defends, climbing into the seat carefully, as if the car would bite her or something. “A nice car and a suit would go a long way for your business. It’s all about visuals when you’re a business man, Lucas.”

Backing out of the driveway, I can’t help laughing at my erratic mother. “I lay ink for a living Mom, I’m not exactly the suit wearin’, Benz drivin’ type. If I walked into a shop and saw that kind of asshole in charge of things, I’d run like my ass was on fire. Let me run Pricks, I think I’ve got it covered. Thanks though.”

We drive along for a while and I assume that the conversation is over. Wrong. Mom sighs heavily. “I worry is all. Can’t I worry about my children?” Her words have me gripping the steering wheel so hard my fingers go numb. After Mitch’s stunt last night and not sleeping for shit on that tiny ass couch; my patience was thin today to start with and now my mother has just shattered it to hell. Everything that’s been stewing in my mind spews into a rage filled tirade. Blood roars through my veins as I take everything out on her, even though I know she doesn’t deserve all of it.

“Okay, you know what?” I grind out losing my temper. “Yes, you’re my mother. I get that you gave birth to me, congratulations. You did not, however, raise Chase and me. Once Dad left,” She winces at the mention of my father, but I continue. “You were always worried about the guy warmin’ your bed. When no one was there, you were a fuckin’ mess. That was me pickin’ up the slack. I’m here to help you, but I’m not takin’ your bullshit. Keep your opinions to yourself while I drive you to the store in my American made car that I bought at a junkyard. Then you won’t say a word when I pay for your groceries with money I didn’t earn wearing a damn suit and tie. The last thing I need is for you to tell me how to fix my life.”

Turning to face the window she says nothing, but I know my point was driven home. Pulling into the store’s lot, I slam the car into park. Feeling guilty that I’ve taken my frustration out on not only my mother, but my car as well.

The ‘Cuda hasn’t done anything but love me…

Mom sniffles in her seat, not making a move to get out. For all she put us through growing up, I still can’t stand for my mother to cry. No real man can live with himself if he’s made a woman cry. Blowing out a breath, I bite the bullet. “I’m sorry, I was out of line. I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you.”

Taking a breath, she finally opens the door. “That’s why I don’t have any grandchildren. I’ve got a rocker groupie and a damned hothead,” She blurts, ignoring me completely.

Shaking my head, I grit my teeth. I don’t argue with her, because it won’t do any good. We are so much more than a rocker groupie and a hothead. With no help from her, Chase and I are both successful and, for the most part, we are both happy. I chuckle to myself because Audrey sure as shit can’t say that, now can she?