Dark Ink Tattoo: Ep 3

Angela’s bet on her lawyer-lover pays off when he’s willing to handle the meaty evidence that the Pack placed on her door-step -- and send a message to her ex-boyfriend in prison to back-off.

And Jack singles out a Pack member for punishment, only to be brutally denied. Starving for blood, he shows up on an old friend’s doorstep, who offers him blood for an arousing trade.

Dark Ink Tattoo is an erotic urban fantasy series, which will be comprised of ten 15,000 word pieces each with graphically detailed violence, and deliciously detailed sex. This particular episode contains a delightful masturbation scene, one fast MF, a lascivious oral trade-off, and one luxuriously slow MF.

Dark Ink Tattoo

Cassie Alexander

Episode
3

Dark Ink Tattoo - Episode 3

Cassie Alexander

Copyright © 2016 by Erin Cashier. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email
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www.cassiealexander.com
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

Chapter 1

What could Bella have wanted with members of the Pack?

I drove away from Paco’s house – I hadn’t gone inside to be tempted. His place was isolated enough, I left his keys under his doormat and the magician’s shirt inside the car with a note that said, “Wash me,” as if the smell of sex on it wasn’t warning enough.

Playing with the Pack wasn’t like her. She’d always seemed too smart for that, she didn’t need drugs to get high, she saw enough strange things without them, like auras. Maybe the Pack’d promised her a lead on ayahuasca. I snorted, and took the exit toward my apartment. I wanted to dowse again, to see where the blood would lead, but it was too close to dawn. Hopefully I’d still feel Paco’s blood tomorrow.

It wasn’t till I pulled into my parking spot that I looked at my phone. A short note from Paco, sent two hours after I’d left, I must’ve missed it with all the fucking.

check ur email

was all it said, and I rushed inside.

Sugar was excited to see me, talking at me in Siamese. I picked her up to pet her and went for my desk. I did most of my drawing at Dark Ink on the nice drafting table, but I had a small set up here that included paints and a computer. I didn’t have much cause to look at porn anymore now that I was living my so-called-life, but I still kept it connected to the internet, mostly to scan my art in. I logged in and checked my email, and sure enough Paco’d sent me one, empty of everything except extensive attachments.

Crime scene photos. He did have the hook-up, after all, even after midnight. I downloaded them one by one, watching the last images of Bella resolve, and flipped through them slowly, looking for
something, I didn’t know what. I stayed on the last one, her face vacant, dark hair spilled across the carpet like a mirror of her blood.

There had to be a reason she overlapped with the Pack – and they didn’t seem like the type who wanted their palms read. I worried at it as long as I could, looking for something in the photos I hadn’t seen already in person, finding nothing. It was almost dawn when I emailed Paco back.

Thanks.

What’ve you got on the Pack?

I let the cursor blink there for a moment and added:
(also really make sure you wash that shirt)
and hit send.

After that I took a long hot shower and crawled in between the wooden walls of my bed-fortress, pulling the lid on before dawn rose.

* * *

I woke up the same way I’d died, with Sugar scratching outside my coffin. “Hey,” I reassured her, and went for my computer.

Paco’d come through again.

Shirt’s clean but from the smell of it you’ll never be able to wash the stain off your soul.

Here’s what you wanted -- let me know why. The Pack’s bad news. Don’t mess with them. I mean it.

This time the attachments were even more extensive.

A lot of them were things I’d heard already, bikers, guns, drugs, and a lot of interesting suppositions – mysterious disappearances they weren’t able to tie to the club due to missing bodies. Of course a member of the Pack would run girls.

But why would Bella let herself be run?

I searched the documents for the names Amber’d given me, Wade, Murphy, Jonah, Daziel and all of them had been in and out of jail, manslaughter, smuggling, lighter charges. The only one who’d ever gotten caught truly red handed was their leader, Gray, and he was ‘safe’ in prison, protected by Las Vegas’s PD.

I rocked back from the desk and wiped my face – it was only nine PM, and I didn’t have much more to go on than I did twelve hours ago. I was going to have to go back to the biker bar but I could guarantee nothing nefarious was going to happen there before midnight.

Sugar meowed up at me.

“Yeah, you think so?” I asked her, reaching down to knuckle her head. “I agree. It’s time for laundry.” 

I gathered up the things I’d been wearing for my past few encounters and came up with a pile of worn-in dark denim and soft cotton t-shirts, put on some of the same, and walked down the hall with a fistful of quarters.

Paco’s blood and sex had muted my hunger to a dull roar, like quiet TV-static heard through a closed door, but it was still there. It never went away. Today I’d be fine, but tomorrow I’d have to go searching or hope to get lucky. I shoved everything into a washer, fed the machine, and waited till I heard it start just in case, as another tenant walked in, walking to a finishing dryer.

I gave him a companionable smile and a nod and caught him staring. My arms were visible and my tattoos made a lot of people stare. His stare went a bit past that though, pushing into the territory of being checked out.

So I returned the favor. He was a little younger than I looked, tone and blonde. His shirt advertised a yoga shop in Florida, where I believed he was from, given his thorough tan.

“You new here?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Just moved in. Fourth floor, back corner.”

I replied with a slightly more coy, “Nearby,” and a jerked chin towards the rest of the first. “How do you like it so far?”

He looked to the ceiling for a moment, then laughed. “It’s less humid than Florida was. But I don’t know many people yet – and my job – all I do is move cars from one lot to another when a radio tells me to. I don’t meet other drivers, muchless other people.”

You only told stuff like that to strangers when you wanted a friend. “Yeah.” I leaned back, feeling the running washer churn against me. “It’s even worse to be lonely when it seems like everyone else is having fun.”

“Exactly,” he said, nodding hard. He looked at me a moment too long, and then nervously looked away. He was interested. I was interested. Under his attention my hunger had perked up its ears and trotted over. But this was my own apartment complex – and I could make it a day without sex.

I rocked forward. “Try Bastille. Or the Phoenix. You’ll make friends in no time.”

His face flushed a little and he looked down. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, and tried not to graze him as I left, which was hard when the room was so small, but I managed, walking back to my apartment with an inconvenient hard on.

* * *

I did more research on the Pack on my own, and tried to figure out tonight’s plan. I’d seen what Wade looked like last night – I’d cruise through the bar, make sure he was there, and then stalk him. Once I got him alone, I’d make him fess up, and then the punishing would begin. I stretched out the fingers of my right hand then pulled them into a fist, making a satisfying crunch.

The timer I’d set on my phone rang and I walked back down the hall. Just thinking about drinking blood again made me hungry. Paco’s blood was excellent, but there was something to be said for the blood of a complete stranger, with their frightened adrenaline still singing inside.

Then I turned the corner into the laundry and found Florida standing there.

“Hey,” he said, looking sheepish.

“Hey,” I responded. He wanted my attention – now he had it.

“I, uh, saw the setting on your washer. I knew when you’d be back.”

I tilted my head to hide a smirk. “You lay in wait for guys often?”

“Only when they look like you.” He dared to meet my gaze. I stood still, considering. I’d been thinking about blood all the long walk down here and I’d had to fight down my earlier hard on. But this place was where I slept – where I
died
. I needed to keep it safe. Even if I could scent the sharp scent of his hope in the air – and knew that he’d been thinking about me for the past hour, too. “I’m sorry,” he began, taking my silence the wrong way. “I shouldn’t have –“

“I don’t mind,” I said quickly. I didn’t want my reluctance to possibly chase him back into a closet. “But –“

“You have a boyfriend.”

“No.” It wasn’t too late – and everything about him reminded me of the sun that I’d lost, the way his skin shone, the blonde streaks in his hair. It made me want to do things to him, mad things, wild things, to see if I could take the sun from him and pull it into me. And as if sensing my wavering resolve, he stepped closer. “I have plans,” I said.

“I could be fast,” he promised.

Then the door swung open behind me, revealing Mercy, the pregnant woman who lived three doors down. “Evening boys!” she announced, carrying her laundry basket in front of her belly before setting it down nearby.

“Hey Mercy,” I said, then gave Florida an enigmatic smile before turning to the task at hand. When I was done tossing my clothes into the dryer, he wasn’t there.

* * *

Just as well
, I thought, setting back down the hall. I had things I needed to do tonight – to concentrate on. It wasn’t every day you set out to kill a man on purpose. It ought to require some thought.

But by the time I got back to my apartment my cock was practically chafing and my attention divided.

Goddammit, Florida.

I locked the door behind me, paused to consider my options, and then reached for the buckle of my belt. If I’d said yes to him – and if Mercy hadn’t interrupted -- how would thing’sve gone down? I pushed my jeans down, freeing myself – I wasn’t going to get any other action tonight, and satisfying myself did nothing to keep the hunger at bay – but if I wanted a clear mind, nothing’d get me there faster.

Of course I knew how to play me – no one knew better than I did what my cock liked. I stood in my entry way, one hand out to balance against the wall while the other stroked my shaft, imagining my cock sliding in and out of Florida’s tan hand – or if we’d blocked the doors with our bodies and jacked each other off instead – or better yet, if he’d knelt down to suck on me while I stroked my hands through his blonde hair and brought his mouth harder, deeper, onto me – I shivered, making myself rock hard. Touching myself felt good, touching myself while imagining the depraved things I could’ve done to him – like sliding my cock into that yoga toned ass of his – was even better.

I wrapped my fingers looser but stroked more quickly, imagining if I’d pinned him up against a wall, the sound of the washers and dryers covering his rising moans, me slapping his hands away from his own cock as I reached around to grab it instead, and in my mind I heard him give a satisfied grunt each time my balls slapped him as his ass took me deep and -- I rose up on the balls of my feet and leaned forward, hips thrusting as I let out a low moan, as I spilled myself out into my hand.

I waited until I was done, breathing hard but feeling infinitely more relaxed. “Are we done now?” I asked my cock with a head-shake, and went to the bathroom to wash my hands, mind finally clear enough to contemplate murder. 

Chapter 2

Nine am found me sitting in the very tastefully appointed waiting room of Carrera Law with a thawing severed penis in a box in my tote bag.