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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Also by Wanda Amard

  Chapter One

  Kimber

  The tattoo artist’s gun flares to life once again, and the loud irritating buzzing causes me to flinch even before the gun hits my neck.

  “Are you sure about this?” Rubi asks and the tattoo artist shuts off the gun.

  I wave my hand to him. “Yes, I’m positive.” The design is half done, anyway. What would I do about it at this point?

  My friend stares at the tattoo our artist finished on her a few minutes earlier, a pair of scissors open at her wrist to symbolize her graduation from beauty school. “It seems an awful lot like getting his name on your body.”

  The tattoo artist grunts behind me and restarts the gun, touching it to my neck as I grab on to the arm of his seat. “I don’t tattoo names,” he says for the hundredth time.

  The way Rubi acts you would think I was getting Vinn’s name tattooed across my forehead, but for my very first piece of art, I picked a medium-sized red heart with Veni Vidi Vici etched around it. After he told me what the words meant to him — that he’d conquer it all — they had special meaning to me, too. Even if they only brought Vinn in my direction, they’d forever mean more. Inside the red heart is our wedding date.

  “I thought you were all about love and grand gestures, Rubi?” I ask when the needle stabs feel like they will jab through my neck and kill me.

  She nods, which I barely catch out of the corner of my eye, fearful of moving my neck and messing up the tattoo. “Yeah, sure who doesn’t love a grand gesture? But this is permanent, Kimber.”

  I almost nod and then remember there’s a tattoo happening close to my spinal cord. “Vinn is permanent.”

  The tattoo artist, Dan, wipes at the back of my neck with the same rag he’s been using the whole time. “This is an easy tattoo to fill in. You can cover in the heart with red and then make it bigger. Hell, I’ll do it for free.”

  Rubi shakes her head as if that’s not a good enough answer, but I won’t need to use his offer.

  “Thanks, but I won’t be needing that.”

  The tattoo gun turns off, and he wipes my neck a few more times before rubbing a lotion over the top and then adding a small piece of plastic wrap taped down at the edges. He manages to get my hair caught in the tape.

  “Just like I told your friend, all the directions still apply for you. Make sure and air it out, rub the lotion, don’t sleep on it.”

  I nod my head with each of his instructions, the skin tight but moving. It sounds easy enough. “Okay.”

  “And whatever you do, try not to pick the scab until it heals. You’ll fuck up my work.”

  How gross, picking scabs is the last thing I plan to do, so I figure the directions are easy to follow. He hands me a small half sheet of paper with the same instructions he gave Rubi for her tattoo and I pay him with tip.

  I wish I could say I’d been planning this tattoo since the day I met Vinn and decided to get it done, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. When Rubi called me this morning about thirty minutes after Vinn left for work and told me she was getting her first and I needed to be there for moral support, I said let’s go. When I was already in the passenger seat of her car, I decided I wanted to get one myself.

  “Will Vinn flip out when he sees your new tat?” Rubi asks, as we’re getting into her car ready to leave the shop.

  “I have no idea.” Since he has a dragon behind his ear and another tattoo on his calf, I don’t imagine he has a moral objection to them, but will he be upset I chose his favorite saying? I didn’t ask for permission.

  “I’m so excited for us,” Rubi squeals as she pulls out of the tattoo parlor parking lot. “Let’s go shopping.”

  “To the mall!” I shout, laughing when she turns that direction. What will we look like two girls walking around the mall with plastic wrap over our bodies covering up new tattoos? We’ll look hilarious, and the thought reminds me of so many of the crazy things Rubi and I did when we were younger. We’ve lost some of our spontaneity and friendship this last year. Each of us grew in our own ways and we slipped apart without realizing it the last few months. The time has gone by quickly, and I’ve missed her. I’m glad to have her back for an afternoon of debauchery.

  “I’m just so happy for us both, Kimber. It’s like life has finally started. You know?”

  I understand exactly what she means. The same thoughts have crossed my mind. Now that Rubi finished the beauty school program, she’ll start her first real job and here I am already married. It hasn’t even been a year out of high school, but both of our lives are completely different. We’re growing up and getting on our own two feet. It’s wonderful. Our lives are still young and carefree, but we’re also expected to hold our own, and I get to make the choices for myself.

  “We should get a pretzel to celebrate.”

  “Of course! You can’t go to the mall and not get a pretzel.” Does she think because we’re adults now we’ve turned into savages?

  I never sat down and considered what life would be like for me after high school. There was always time to consider those things later. I’ve always been one of those people who went with the flow and took life as it came. I never expected to be married this early, but I never expected to be this happy either. Even though I still don’t know where my life is going, I know Vinn will be by my side and that’s the only reassurance I need.

  Chapter Two

  Vinn

  I received Kimber’s text about thirty minutes ago that her and Rubi were on their way home and I started dinner. I’ve never once cooked for Kimber since she started living with me, but I do have a few dishes up my sleeve. Nothing fancy, tonight’s meal is spaghetti and red sauce, but she’ll enjoy the fact I cooked it rather than her.

  I also had other things to do in the kitchen. The container of nuts Kimber’s mother, Sonia got me for Christmas sits open on the counter, two of each nut laid out on a cutting board. Originally I tried to grind them up with a spoon, but it didn’t allow me to get the fragments powdered enough. I had to use a hammer from the small toolkit I was forced to buy when Kimber decided it was time to hang pictures on the walls. The hammer ground the various nuts. At first I considered regular walnuts, but when ground into a small flowerlike substance they’re much too dark for me to sprinkle into a pile of fluffy white cocaine. I needed something lighter, and after a few test samples I ended up with regular peanuts.

  Lighter, although heavier than coke they should blend in and go undetected until it’s too late. And best yet there should be enough in this mixed nut container to get the job done. The way Ricky ran away from a Snickers wrapper would make you believe he was allergic to the mere idea of peanuts. If it really is that strong of an allergy, the dust from these nuts should be enough to do him in, and hopefully the high of the coke will keep him from realizing what’s happening until it’s too late. Fingers crossed.

  A car door shuts and a few seconds later the door opens. With a hand I swipe the peanut dust into the trash and cover the container of nuts, stashing it back in the cupboard.

  “Honey, I’m home,” Kimber yells, stealing my line.

  I s
tep out from the kitchen smiling. “Perfect.” I grab the two plates loaded up with spaghetti and red sauce — it came from a can, so we can’t expect too much — and walk them to the small dining room table. I set the plates down, one for me and one for Kimber. She waits until I’m already sitting in the table before she walks across the living room and takes a place on the opposite side, pulling the plate of spaghetti near her. We never sit this far part when eating food so immediately my suspicion grows. Does she not like spaghetti? She’s made it before.

  “How was your day with Rubi?” I ask shoveling the first bite of spaghetti into my mouth. A few noodles are crunchy, but I’ve always preferred them underdone rather than over.

  Kimber rolls a few pieces of spaghetti around her fork and puts them in her mouth, chewing quickly and nodding her head. “Good.”

  “What did you girls do?”

  She hurries to swallow. “Oh you know, this and that.”

  Except I don’t know what this and that are. What do girls do for fun? When I was a teenager, I assumed naked pillow fights, but I haven’t seen any evidence of such as I’ve gotten older. Surely, someone would have video evidence by now.

  She twists her head to the side to take a bite of food and grimaces.

  “Do you not like the spaghetti?” The sauce is from a jar, but I’ve watched her use the same stuff. I got the can from the cupboard.

  She shakes her head. “No, it’s good.”

  I stare at her hard for a minute, and she does everything but look at me. The carpet has become more interesting. “What the fuck, Kimber?”

  “What?” She tries to play innocent, but Jailbait has the worst poker face of anyone I’ve ever met. She’s trying to hide something and doing a shit job at it. She’d confess to a murder she didn’t do if you caught her in the eye during a guilty spell.

  I bang my fist on the wood of the table. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  She jumps and then sets down her fork slowly. “Promise me you won’t get mad.”

  I shake my head. “Absolutely not.” I can’t imagine what she would do to piss me off, but if she’s this worried about it, I’m not about to make promises I can’t keep.

  “At the time it sounded like a good idea, but now I’m getting nervous you won’t like it,” she fidgets with her fork, putting it down and then picking it up again and twirling it between her fingers.

  My heart thumps to my chest worried about whatever she’s done. “Just tell me.”

  One hundred worst-case scenarios come to mind, but nothing so horrible she’d be this nervous over telling me.

  Kimber stands up from the table, placing a hand behind her neck, and turns in my direction, careful with her movements. “If you hate it, the guy said it wouldn’t be hard to fill in.”

  She moves her hand, uncovering her neck, and my breath stalls. I stand, my chair falling behind me as I move closer to get a better look. What has she done?

  “You got a tattoo?” There on the back of her neck is a red heart with the date I married her in basic print in the middle and on the outside around the heart are the words Veni Vidi Vici written in small font.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with me stealing your saying. They’re important words to you.”

  I gnash my teeth together, staring at the back of her neck. My control threatens to let loose and I take steady breaths trying to rein myself in.

  “Why did you do this, JB?”

  Her body deflates, and she hunches. “I don’t know. Rubi was getting a tattoo, so I was there and I wanted something to show you how much you mean to me.” She turns, a tear ready to track down her face. “I can get it filled in so you can’t see the words.”

  “The fuck you will.” Seeing her upset is my undoing. This gesture is nothing to cry over. I latch on to her arm and twist her around so she’s facing the table. She bends over holding on to the edge as I weave my body behind hers as close as possible. I’ll stare at it forever.

  “This is the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper into her ear as my fingers fumble to undo the button on her pants.

  “Really?”

  “Fuck, Kimber, you have no idea how hard I am right now. I’m going to fuck you against this table and stare at the back of your neck while I do it.” One thing consumes my thoughts, getting her undressed and my dick in her.

  “Okay,” she breathes out the word.

  “These fucking pants,” I complain tugging at her pant loops. I miss the fucking dresses.

  She loosens her grip from the table and undoes her own pants, letting them fall to the floor. I can’t decide if I should stare at her ass or at her neck and my eyes dart back and forth in overtime.

  I slap her ass hard and Kimber jumps. “What was that for, Vinn.?”

  “For turning me on so much I worry I’ll fuck you too hard.” Fuck. I can barely talk, the words coming out are slurred and rushed like an alcoholic already on his fifth drink but needing another.

  She parts her legs and my hand reaches between them. The crevice between her legs is already wet and dripping. This is one reason I love this woman. Her cunt is always ready for me.

  “I can’t wait,” I say undoing my own pants. My cock throbs wanting to fill her right now. I can’t get my clothes off fast enough.

  Kimber positions herself against the table, lifting her ass high in the air. “Okay. I want you to take me hard. Remind me I’m yours.”

  With too much force I push her back down so her chest is against the hard surface. Kimber tugs her hair around her neck so I get a fresh glimpse of the tattoo, and it’s too much. The table slips against the carpet as my dick searches her out. I pull apart her ass cheeks too far, the skin begging to be released. Right there sits her tiny puckered hole, but I’ll be too rough to use that one this time. Instead my cock rams into her cunt, giving her no time to adjust before I start a pounding rhythm.

  Kimber clutches the table, her tits pushed against the wood jetting back and forth each time I slam into her. As she works to keep herself stable, my hands are everywhere. In her mouth forcing her to suck, on her clit rubbing circles, pulling on her hips so our fit is tighter. I get so deep my dick slams against her cervix, but I still want more. There will never be enough to satisfy me.

  Being with Kimber is always a fight against myself, but this time I let it all go. The need to fuck her into oblivion is too strong to fight. I want to fuck her, then slap her, and then fuck her again. She put my saying on her neck in permanent ink. I want to put my mark on her forever. A dish of spaghetti falls on the floor with a crash, and noodles and sauce are soaked up by the carpet, staining the fibers red.

  She screams my name and her pussy fights back, gripping my shaft and not letting go. My cum explodes out of my dick, filling her with so much it drips out the sides from our connected bodies. Even after the last of my seed has pumped into Kimber, I keep jerking into her channel, my dick not going down.

  “Fuck, Kimber, I can’t stop,” I say forcing myself to slow down but not taking my dick from her sweet spot. Tattoo care is important and it will hurt when it heals, but right now I only want to keep screwing her until she’s too tired to resist me. Not that she ever has.

  “Don’t stop,” she pants.

  My hand lands hard against the table and I shove into her one more time, my dick testing her walls. Then I pull out, leaving us both empty. Kimber breathes heavily against the table and I slap her on the ass when she closes her eyes.

  “We’re not done here. Get your ass in the bedroom so you can ride me.” I hate relinquishing control to her. It’s my job to fuck her, not the other way around, but until her neck heals I can’t screw her into the mattress like I want.

  Chapter Three

  Kimber

  I love the new tattoo on the back of my neck I just didn’t realize the healing process would start so soon. It’s a nonstop struggle with myself not to scratch the crap out of it when no one is looking. The only thing saving my skin right now is
that I put my hair back so my mother won’t see it. The rest of the time Vinn makes me keep it pulled up in a ponytail wrapped around my shoulder so he can stare at it anytime.

  “What kind of man won’t help me out with a few bills?” my mom asks. Her rant over Vinn has been going for the last ten minutes. I definitely made the right choice not to show her my new ink.

  The way she talks of the man who sent her to rehab is enough to tick me off. But yelling would only give her more ammunition. It’s anyone’s guess what my mother has against Vinn. She married my father young as well and you would hope a mother wants her child to be happy — to find the happiness I found with Vinn — but my family and mother have never been normal. I don’t know why I still search for her approval especially after finding a needle in her bathroom the day after Christmas. I should rant and rave and kick her out of my life, never speaking to her again, but she’s my mother. And she promised she hadn’t used it.

  Even though she wasn’t motherly through the years, I don’t have any memories of her being particularly mean to me, so it’s hard knowing she’s killing herself. How would I feel if tomorrow is the time she overdoses, and it’s the one that kills her? Knowing I could’ve tried one more time to get her clean is all it takes for me to come over and check up on her. Maybe one more load of dishes or one more swipe of the vacuum will keep her going — the one item of niceness that lets her see through the darkness. There’s hope one time she’ll see me as a daughter she can love in a world she doesn’t need drugs to escape.

  It’s a long shot, it probably won’t happen, but I can’t give up yet.

  “Look at you. You’re not even defending him anymore,” she spits. “Is the fairytale over already?”