“How’s it looking?” Shayla asks as I gently shade in the edges of the wings.
“It’s looking good,” I murmur as I dip my needle in some more ink, then carry on the shading.
I wasn’t fucking lying either, it looks awesome if I do say so myself. Angel wings with ‘MOM’ in capitals in the middle going sideways.
“You still married?” she asks, and I snort.
Shayla is a regular in the shop. She has also mentioned several times that she wants my dick, and every time I tell her the same thing, as I repeat for the hundredth time, “I’m married,” she sighs with disappointment, and I shake my head just as my door slowly opens. I look ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off because, seriously, never interrupt a tattoo artist, when my girl's blonde hair pops in before our eyes lock, and I smile softly.
“Speaking of my pixie,” I say, and Shalya looks towards the door.
“I can come back?” Ash says, and I shake my head, so fucking happy to see her in this room again and say, “Get your sexy ass in here, baby.”
She nods and walks in, and Shayla grunts, “Of course your wife is absolutely gorgeous, and even pregnant, she looks fuckable,” and I snort as Ash’s eyes widen.
My wife is always fuckable…
I explain, “Shayla here is a regular and wants my dick.”
I raise a brow at her, watching to see how she handles it. Normally, she would have laughed it off before, but now I’m not sure how she'll react.
Fuck, for all I know, she may offer my dick up on a serving platter just to piss me off, though I would deserve it.
Ashley tilts her head, her eyes racing between mine as she leans against the counter, and she states, “All the women that come in here want your dick,” and Shayla snorts while I swallow hard.
“Does that mean I get some?” Shayla asks with hope, and I hold my breath, not looking away from my wife, keeping our eyes locked and silently plead.
Come on, pixie, fight for me, show me there is still that love deep inside. Show me I didn’t completely tear us apart to the point I’m going to have to tie you up…
“No,” Ash finally says, and I sigh with relief, the hope I was holding onto making me feel like we’re going to make it, and I continue to shade the wings so she can’t see the cheesy grin taking place as Ash states, “Tyler has been mine for seventeen years.”
“Well, what about a threesome then?” Shayla asks, and I lift the tattoo gun as I sit up and snap, “What the fuck, Shay?!” as Ash chokes on a laugh.
“What?” Shayla asks innocently, “Your wife is one fine piece of ass…”
I narrow my eyes and growl, “Stop checking my fucking wife out before I tattoo a dick in your angel wings!”
Shayla smirks, her hazel eyes twinkling as she reminds me, “You cherish your work too much to do that…”
I narrow my eyes before grunting, knowing she’s right, as I get back to her wings that are almost finished and order, “Stop fucking checking out my wife.”
“So that’s a no then to the threesome?” she confirms, and I snap, “Yes, it’s a fucking no! No one touches my wife but me!”
Shayla sighs with disappointment as she lies back on her chest, and I shake my head while my wife tries to stifle her laughter, loving my predicament, the little minx.
Twenty minutes later, I finish wiping down the tattoo chair while Ashley watches me.
Shalya left five minutes ago but not before pleading one more time for a threesome. I threatened to send her over to my dad next time making her pout and leave claiming that she was going to pay just to piss me off for not letting her have some of my wife’s fine piece of ass – her words not mine though they are true her ass is fucking fine – and I’ve been cleaning up since, Ashley not saying a word.
Sighing at the quietness, I throw the rag in the bin before sitting on my chair as I look at my wife, who hasn’t taken her eyes off me.
We need to talk, I need that question answered, and she knows it.
Not taking my eyes off Ash, I do the only thing I can think of, the thing that always gets her to speak, and I remove my cut, throwing it on the counter next to her before I remove my shirt, pulling it over my head and throwing that next, and I lean back against the tattoo chair.
Her eyes water, but she still moves.
She heads to her cupboard, grabs her kit, which I keep clean and serviced, and some ink, then walks over to me.
