Talan wants to mark Maya—with more than his ink. The owner of a prominent tattoo shop, he’s used to being hit on by easy women. Though “easy” is not a word associated with Maya when she comes in to support her friend. Flirtation ensues, but what will it take to break the painted man.
“When’s my next appointment?” I asked my receptionist Janice while making my way
around the front counter. I’d just walked out Lance’s crush and wanted the day to be over.
“You have one more, Talan. Esther is due in twenty.”
“Fuck, I forgot about her.” My body slumped against the counter. The boys and I were
hoping for the evening to be slow, allowing us an early night.
“That’s why I’m here, handsome. To serve you in any way you need,” Janice purred, and
I sighed as I flipped open my laptop and logged in. I’d made the mistake of wetting my dick in
her a few months back when she first came through my door. Afterward, she became jealous and
clingy, wanting more than I was willing to give.
The only reason she was still there was because she had bigger balls than the other two
fuckers that worked there. Janice could handle the leers, gestures, and jokes like a pro, but fuck
with her inventory or dirty my shop, and she will rip you a new one.
“Janice, cut that shit out,” I demanded before storming off toward the back and into my
sanctuary. The guys all laughed when I walked by. I flipped them the bird and continued on into
An hour had passed since I’d asked Janice if I was clear and there was still no sign of
Esther. It was the usual for her. The woman would be late to her own funeral, but this was a new
one for her.
She was never this late.
I was becoming agitated by the lack of common sense people had to pick up a goddamn
phone. How hard could it be to let me know if you’re coming or not? There was just something
about a person’s lack of punctuality that pissed me off. Not caring if I had shit to do or places to
be was plain rude.
I was worked up to the point of walking out the damn door.
“Janice,” I called out into the now empty shop. She’d insisted – once the boy’s left – in
staying behind to help me set up, not listening to my refusal. “Call Esther and reschedule. I’m
“I’m here,” Esther yelled, rushing through the door. “Traffic was a bitch and I—”
“Save it and get in my chair before I kick you out,” I grumbled and rubbed my throbbing
“But, I brought—”
“Is he always this rude?” a soft, feminine voice I didn’t recognize asked.
I looked up, and was startled by the sexy little thing that stood before me. She was young.
Much younger than what I was normally attracted to; at the most this little nymph was twenty.
The beauty had black hair; wavy and tousled locks that swept down to the middle of her
back, with side-swept bangs across her forehead. Her face was sweet, innocent, while her gray
eyes spoke of mischief, and in my case, trouble. Lips, those fucking cherry-red lips, were plump
and inviting—the perfect Cupid’s bow that begged to be nibbled.
I let my eyes traverse her short frame and my mouth watered. She truly was an itty-bitty
thing. With my six-foot-four frame, I towered over her, dwarfing her delicate one.
My feet carried me closer to where she stood, next to Esther in the receptionist area. I
wanted her laid on that black marble top so I could feast on her. The drought I’d been on as of
late might have been making me desperate...then again, looking at her was making something
within me want to just take, consequences be damned.
We watched each other; she followed my every move and I, her every breath.
My eyes dropped from her perfect face to hungrily devour her chest and a shiver ran
down my spine. The two pert, no bigger than a handful breasts, sat high on her chest. She wore a
simple camisole that did little to hide her obvious happiness to meet me.
My cock twitched as her nips puckered.
I continued my assessment and found my hands clenching the second her narrow waist
and flared hips came into view. My nails dug grooves into the palms of my hands, the slight
pinch keeping me in check. The desire to pull her closer, grab onto her flesh, and leave my prints
behind was almost unbearable.
She was a slim petite thing, with the sexiest pair of legs my eyes had ever seen; they were
bare for my enjoyment. A tiny pair of denim shorts barely covered her lower region, marking
every groove and molding onto her sinful flesh as if they were a part of her.
I was hard.
“Wow,” a voice coughed to my right, pulling my eyes away from Bitty.
“You can say ‘thank you’ for my gift now and eye fuck her later.” Esther laughed while
Bitty turned red around the cheeks.
This cute little thing blushes?
“Talan, it’s getting late,” Janice interrupted suddenly, “and we have plans.”
“I’m sorry,” Bitty spoke up, turning to Esther, “maybe we should come ba—”
“No.” The word popped out before I could think to stop them.
“Yes.” My glare cut off Janice before she could continue, eliciting a chastised look from
her. Who the hell did she think she was to be so rude and hostile toward my client and someone
who, I hoped, would soon be my friend?
“Enough, Janice.” I let the words come out encased in a low, warning growl before
turning toward the two women with raised brows. “You two head on back.” Bitty went to protest
at my command, but instead bit her lip, causing me to groan. Fuck, I need to get this situation
under control. “Esther, you know the drill; lose the shirt and get comfy. Bitty, I want—”
Bitty crossed her arms, scowling adorably. “Who you calling ‘Bitty’?”
“You, sweet thing, now quit interrupting me.”
Bitty huffed, but I saw no real annoyance in her expression.
“Talan, can we have a word please?” Janice butt-in, again. If this chick didn’t leave soon
she was going to find herself without a job.
“No, and for fuck’s sake—go home.”
“But,” she whined and gave me a ridiculous pout. The two other girls in the room
laughed. Janice didn’t appreciate this and turned her icy glare on them.
“Come on, Es, seems the big, bad, tatt boy has his hands full,” Bitty cooed with a sexy
giggle and pulled a nosy Esther behind her. The two walked off, down toward the room with my
name on the door. They walked in, and while Esther went to strip, Bitty closed the door.
Her eyes—those damn cat-like grey eyes—set on mine, blazing with amusement while
she winked then pushed the door closed.
“What the fuck was that?” Janice hissed once they were both out of earshot. “You should
have a little more—”
“Get out,” I said through gritted teeth.
Janice’s jaw jutted forward in defiance. “Are you into that little girl?”
I pointed toward the door. “Out and quit pushing . . . you’re walking a fine line.”
Hurt flickered in her eyes. “Talan, I—”
“Go home, Janice. Go home before I fucking lose the last bit of patience I have today
and kick you out permanently.”
Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if
she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.
As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island
rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing
came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A.
R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned.
Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn't until
she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in
Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow
and letting her characters grow.
How I became a published author.
My journey began in 09 when I discovered the Twilight Saga and became obsessed with this
extraordinary tale of eternal love. Once I finished the series I became restless… I wanted more.
This hunger made me scour the net and the author’s website for extras or news of upcoming
books. One day in particular, my search lead me to the Fanfiction.net site, and as they say, the
From reader, I became an author on the site, and have been extremely lucky and grateful for all
the support and love I’ve received over the years.
The readers I’ve garnered through each of my stories have always told me to publish. That they
enjoyed my work and thought they would make great full length novels. It’s because of their
words that I entertained the idea of becoming an indie author.
Best decision I’ve ever made.
I spent three months rewriting my first novella, Ardor . . . turning what was once a six thousand
words twilight one shot, into a twenty six thousand word short story. It was hard work. I learned
a lot about myself as an author and how brutal the editing portion of this journey could be.
The result was worth every headache, tear, scream, and laugh.
Through this journey I’ve discovered something I’m passionate about and enjoy. I’m happy, and
at the end of the day, no matter what path you take, that’s the goal we all strive for.