Under Locke (18 page)

A volcano erupted on my face with his answer. I opened my mouth, unable to say anything.
Whaaaat?
So I did the only thing that could remotely save my honor.

I face-planted the desk.

And then started mumbling, “
Way t
oo much information.” They might have been laughing but I was too humiliated by the fact that I’d been ogling a stranger’s penis—and requesting one just like it from Santa—when the man behind me had what I was sitting there admiring. And the man behind me being Dex. If it would
ha
ve been Blake, I
might have
grimaced but…

“C’mon, Iris, it’s cool,” Slim chuckled, gesturing toward the screen. “You'd be surprised how many guys get them."

He was full of shit and I knew it.

I didn’t bother looking up and settled for closing my eyes, but all I could do then was imagine that big, pierced cock on Dex’s body. Holy moly.

“I can't—I mean—that looks really painful.” I mumbled against the table in a strained whisper that sounded almost like a whine.

No one denied the fact that getting your genitals pierced was painful. Screw that.

"I hope they're worth it."

“You wanna find out?” Dex teased.

What in the hell?

Everything below my neck flushed at his question, but I steered away from it. There was no denying the hint of flirtation in his tone. Then again, I hadn't seen him with any other women since that morning at the auto shop. Though I doubted he was suffering from deprivation, you never know. Maybe he was.

But probably not.

“Babe, go choose a belly button ring,” Dex murmured at the same time fingertips brushed across the back of my neck.

Glancing back at the screen, my belly
fluttered
.

Friggin' hell, those pictures w
ere
going to be burned into the back of my eyelids forever. If I ever got desperate for Spank Bank material, penis piercings were the thing to search for.

“C
ome on
, I hid some of the cool rings we got in the last shipment,” Slim urged.

I sighed, focusing on the gangly redhead instead of the beast on the computer screen. The picture with the monstrous thing. Gah! I needed to pull it together.

~ * ~ *

“If my belly button gets infected or the piercing is crooked, I'm going to give all your appointments to Blue from now on,” I failed epically at joking from the chair in one of the private rooms.

Slim had showed me some of the new navel rings they’d gotten right before I was hired. I settled on a white gold piece—my ears swelled up if I put anything in them that wasn’t gold or hypoallergenic—with a pretty, round, green crystal. To be honest, I was pretty excited to do it since I loved the jewelry.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured me, pulling out the sterilized equipment he’d need from the autoclave. A particularly large and thicker than normal needle made its way into his grip. Slim caught my eyes and grinned. "Needles freak you out?"

I snorted. Yeah right. "Not at all."

"Good."

He had already talked me through the procedure and all he needed to do by that point was wipe some orange stuff followed by marking two places where the needle needed to go through.

“Let's just get it over with. I'm getting anxious,” I groaned, leaning back so that I was face-up on the chair, rolling my head to the side where the door was to find Dex standing just outside of it, looking in.

“I’ll do it, Slim,” he said, taking a step forward.

Slim shrugged without bothering to turn around and look at our boss. “Go for it. Everything’s ready.”

I thought it was weird that Dex offered to do it for me because I hadn’t seen him do any piercings in the time I’d been there. "I don't mean to be rude, but do you know what you're doing?"

He turned to look at me over his shoulder and simply scowled. Slim snickered.

All right then.

There was the snapping and popping of gloves being put on, and the next thing I knew, Dex was rolling my shirt up over my chest. The fingers on one of his hands rested directly over my navel for a second before he swiped me with a cool towelette that stained my skin a dark orange.

He worked silently, making thoughtful faces as he leaned over with a marker in his hand dotting two spots. One directly on my belly and one out of view.  He pulled a mirror off the counter to show me what he’d marked.

“Symmetrical, yeah?” he asked me like I could really tell if it was even or not when his big body loomed over mine with the apadravya piercing still so fresh in my mind.

My nod was slow. “Yeah.”

He flashed me a little grin, another rarity, before murmuring as he
used surgical-type clamps to pinch together the skin
, “I’m go
nna
to tell you when to hold your breath, and when to let it out,
all right
? It’s just a pinch.”

The transfer from needle to jewelry was so quick, if it wasn’t for the awkward burning sensation that happened after he pushed the needle through me and transferred the jewelry, I wouldn’t have winced or anything.

Dex took a step back, admiring his work with a watchful eye. “Perfect.”

I sat up on my elbows and looked down at my new piercing. It
was
pretty awesome. “Nice,” I whispered, sitting up completely. I touched the top of it gingerly with my index finger before pulling my shirt down and over it with a grin. “Thanks, guys.”

Slim nodded, his eyes focused in on Dex. "Dude, when was the last time you did a piercing? I can't remember."

~ * ~ *

“I need a drink.” Dex announced, setting the alarm at Pins. It wasn't even midnight but the shop was dead and we all agreed it was pointless to stay open. “I’m buyin'.”

Blake let out a howl of approval that was a perfect companion for Slim’s whistle.

The loud beeping drowned out the slight murmur of whatever Blue said but based on the nod she was sharing, I figured she was excited about free drinks too. It wasn’t until we were outside and I was trying to inch my way toward my car when Dex turned to look at me.

“You comin’?”

I hesitated.

“You’re comin’,” he said it as a statement instead of a question that time.

I blinked at him standing there with his arms at his sides. “I don’t really drink.” The same way I didn't eat fried foods, white bread, or meat. Plenty of people didn’t like alcohol. But plenty of people also liked to tease me about being a goody two shoes when that wasn’t the case at all.

"You don’t really drink?” He repeated it just like I had when he'd asked me about my visit to the library.

I shook my head.

“No beer?”

“I drank half of one a few weeks ago," I offered.

“Cute girly drink?”

I smiled but shook my head. “Hardly ever.”

Dex’s lips quirked up at the corners again. “Straight vodka, babe?”

I snorted. “The day you get your belly button pierced.”

And I waited. I waited for one of them to say some sort of smartass comment like the majority of people did when I told them. Most people made it seem like there was something wrong with me for not liking the taste of alcohol or beer and especially disliking the one and only time I got drunk. Going into an explanation why I didn't drink was unnecessary.

But none of them laughed. None of them did more than look mildly amused.

Dex finally smiled, gesturing toward his bike with a tilt of his head. “I’ll get you a root beer then.”

Well that wasn’t at all what I expected.

~ * ~ *

There were a lot of things that bothered me about Dex. He was moody, bossy, and overbearing. He could be thoughtless—though to be fair it had only been our initial meeting that demonstrated this. And he was hot.

Not just attractive.

For all of the things about him I disliked that he could fix with a different attitude, the man breathed in oxygen and breathed out sexual masculinity at its finest when he was being a dick and even more when he wasn’t. It was everything from the way he walked, to the way he clipped his words, ignored his messy hair, and wore the ink on his skin, that screamed at that primal part deep in me.

So it didn’t help that all those things that irritated the shit out of me on a regular basis were displaced and replaced the minute we stepped into the bar.

Charles Dexter Locke—I'd found out his full name after spotting a bill with it on there and got a good snort—was easygoing then. Smooth, bossy even toward people he didn’t employ, but he did it in a way that didn’t scream needy or annoying, but rather confidence. The moment we’d sat down at a booth, a waitress was literally right there with a tray of beers on hand. Dex had cut her a quick glance, said the words, “Root beer for the girl, please,” and when the bottled drink was set in front of me, another slice of eyes to the waitress at Mayhem with a low, “Thanks, Rach,” and I swear to God the poor lady swooned.

The look in her eyes was almost comical. Keyword: almost.

I didn’t know how to react around this talkative, casual man who laughed at a story Blake had about his son
getting detention in school for cussing
.

And his friggin’ laugh.

Dam
n it.
Damn. It.

I had to force myself to remember that this was the man who had made me almost cry. The man who had called me a bitch and called me an idiot behind my back. The same man who had made me think about leaving the only place I really had left.

But he’d apologized. Genuinely apologized and seemed like he regretted what had happened. Whether it was because he was really guilty or if he'd been bullied into it, it didn't matter. Ever since our little show down in the parking lot, he’d been distant, cordial, and concerned in a mix. Though I got to know the rest of the guys, Dex was still a volatile enigma.

As hot and smooth and relaxed as he was being, that wasn’t the usual guy that I knew. But then again, what did I know about running my own business and having to balance work and personal relationships with employees? Absolutely nothing besides the fact that Sonny, who I trusted and l
oved
, somehow managed to be friends with him. That had to count for something.

“Iris,” Blake called out from across the booth we were in.

I tilted my head up at him, smiling. We’d only been there about thirty minutes and I’d been awfully quiet, more so than normal, soaking in their familiar conversations. “Yes?”

He smoothed a hand over his bare head, holding his beer close to his mouth with the other. “You old enough to drink?”

My mouth flattened
. "Yes."

“When did you turn twenty-one? This year?"

I rolled my eyes at him. “Three years ago. I'm twenty-four going on fifty.”

Blake made a face. "You're a damn baby."

"Maybe compared to your old
butt
." I laughed. Just last week he'd turned thirty-six. No one had bought him a cake or anything, but he'd mentioned it to me in passing. Obligation had me going to the deli next door to buy him a cookie in celebration.