"Holy shit, Anthony, it's amazing," I said, not taking my eyes from my reflection.
"The redness will go down in a couple days, possibly sooner since your skin really didn't pucker with irritation," he said, stepping in front of me.
"Irritation?" I asked, dragging my eyes from the vibrant colors to study the slightly red skin surrounding the tattoo that I hadn't noticed before. He was right, it really wasn't that bad.
"Sometimes the skin shows its disapproval by pinking up, but yours obviously took it quite well."
"Everything comes to her naturally," Emrys said, joining Anthony in front of me. All joking was gone as he studied my face with admiration.
"After the potshot she gave you in there, I'm guessing she's as unique as you, my friend," Anthony said, heading back to the tattoo room.
"What do you think?" Emrys asked, stepping directly in front of me.
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I said, glancing at in the mirror one last time.
"Not me," Emrys said, taking the mirror from me. Without looking, he tossed it across the room with a flick of his wrist. It landed with a dull thud on the couch. The intensity of his stare made my pulse race like a runaway racehorse as he placed his hands on my sides. His fingers splayed across my bare skin igniting a fire inside me.
"Why don't you do that tongue trick again now that I have you where I want you," he said as he leaned in to nip at my chin.
"You mean this?" I asked, darting my tongue out to moisten my lips.
He groaned slightly, running his hands up my sides, never taking his eyes from mine. His knuckles grazed the sides of my breasts as they continued their journey up my torso. They finally rested around my neck anchoring me into place. His eyes moved to my lips and I fought the urge to close the distance between us.
Noise from the other room broke the spell as Anthony lumbered back into the main room and sealed the tattoo room back up with the heavy-duty door.
"Get a room," Anthony muttered, settling back on the couch.
"Ready to get out of here?" Emrys asked quietly, keeping me locked into place.
"Yes, please," I said as he finally dropped his hands and stepped back.
Tossing my shirt to me, he turned to Anthony. "Dude, I seriously owe you for this one," he said, reaching out to shake one of Anthony's bear-sized hands.
"Not likely. I still owe you for keeping the old man away from me," Anthony said, making it clear that he was well aware that Emrys had played a crucial part in his father's mumbo-jumbo spell.
"Hey, I did nothing," Emrys said, holding his hands up. "I've told you before, your dad must have seen the err of his ways," he added, laughing good-naturedly as he pumped Anthony's hand up and down.
"Riiiiiiiiiight," Anthony replied. "Jordyn, it was a pleasure to give you your first beauty mark. Your skin is truly a gift from God," he said, holding out his massive hand for me to shake.
"Thanks for doing a ridiculously awesome job," I said, pulling my shirt on carefully in case the irritated skin was sensitive.
"The pleasure was all mine. Normally I'd slap a bandage over one of my new tat jobs, but like I said, your skin took to the ink like a duck to water. Just wash it thoroughly with a non-perfumed soap when you get home and make sure the skin doesn't dry out," he said, pulling himself up off the couch to follow us out.
"Thanks again," I said, giving Anthony a quick hug that made him blush all the way from his buzzed head down his neck.
"You come back and see me again. Next time come without this chump and we could have some real fun," he said, wagging his eyebrows at me suggestively.
"Count on it," I answered, laughing as he closed the door behind him.
"I like your friend," I said to Emrys as he reached for my hand.
"He likes you too," Emrys replied as the dingy smelly alleyway disappeared around us.
The hard ground beneath my feet was replaced by a substance that gave way when I moved. Squinting in the sudden sunshine, I looked down surprised to see I was standing on a beach. Everything about this beach was different than what I was used to. The sand beneath my feet was unlike any sand you'd find on the West Coast. It was sugar-fine and almost as white. Even the water was different than what I was used to. Instead of the normal breaks that the surfers liked to ride on back home, the water here was crystal clear and the waves that broke gently on the shoreline were minuscule to the waves back home.
"Where are we?" I asked, turning around in a slow circle. I took in the line of palm trees behind us and the ocean that seemed to surround us.
"A small island about fifty miles off of the coast of Tahiti," he said, sinking down on the sun-warmed sand. "It's my second favorite place to visit," he said, reaching up and tugging me down on the sand beside him.