Contest entry for the Control. Possess. Seduce. Contest

Title: Masenry Ink

Rating: M

Summary: The first time Bella felt alive wasn't when the needle touched her skin. It was when she saw him.

Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masenry Ink

I once read that life was made of moments. Not minutes, not hours, not days, but moments.

I was sure the author had been referring to the ones who lived their lives. The ones who actually seized their moments. That wasn't me. My life had been made mostly of moments unseized.

For years I'd been walking by Masenry Ink, this popular tattoo parlor downtown. Sometimes I'd stop and stare at the glaring sign on my way home from work, wondering why it was misspelled while willing myself to go in, but I never did. Not until that day. The day he waved me inside.

I'd noticed him a few times before. Mostly his backside and that unruly mess of cinnamon-sprinkled hair. The closest I'd gotten to seeing his face was a quick profile shot of an angular jaw. He was smiling that day, laughing with his friends. One of those good laughs. The kind that made you throw your head back.

It wasn't until the day I went in that I saw the front of him. The tight-shirted, well-defined, all-tatted-up front of him. His eyes were the color of G-17, a shade of green I had considered painting my living room walls. But it was out of my comfort zone. Too bright. Too much for that little space. It sure as hell was pretty though.

My heart shook with the jingling of the bell when I opened the door and stepped inside, getting a strong whiff of vanilla incense. The black floors sparkled under my flats making them look dull and plain.

"You in the market for some new ink?" G-17 asked, and I cleared my throat.

"First ink, actually," I was embarrassed to say. Always wanted a tattoo, just never … seized the moment.

With a look of smugness, he grabbed his chest. "You mean I'm your first?" he asked, and I blanched like I was barely legal as he reached out to shake my hand. "I'm honored …"

"Bella."

"Right." He gave my face a once over then smiled. "Well, Bella, I'm Masen. The owner and reason for the misspelling out front." He gestured to the sign. "You'd be surprised how many people ask."

He jerked his head for me to follow him to the counter where his bald friend was flipping through a magazine. "That's Jasper. Just ignore him, and he'll do the same for you. Won't you, Jas?" Jasper didn't answer, just continued flipping through the pages. Masen's eyebrows lifted in amusement. "So, Bella, you want to peruse or already got something in mind?"

Hesitating, I reached into my purse, pulled out an old, faded paper I'd been hanging onto for years, and handed it over to him.

"I want that on my left inner wrist. That exactly." I told him.

Taking the paper, he smiled down at it then scratched his brow. "All right, all right. This exactly. Shouldn't be too difficult. Just follow me and we'll get started."

I followed him to one of the many open chairs, guessing it wasn't all that cool to get a tattoo on a Thursday since there were no other customers in sight.

"Have a seat." He pointed to a chair, and I climbed in. "Get comfortable while I get set up. You want it in black, yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah." Black would be exact.

Crossing my legs at the ankle, I laid my head back against the headrest, unsure of what to do with my hands. Everything I was doing felt spazzy and wrong while everything he was doing looked cool and collected. His hands worked as fast as my mind sped. My heart caught up when he grabbed my hand and turned it over to expose and clean my inner wrist.

"Now, this here's Bessy." He held up his tattoo gun. "Been with me from the beginning. Seen better days, but she still gets the job done. You ready?"

I nodded then jumped when he turned her on, filling my ears with an incessant buzzing.

The needle touched my skin, and I flinched, feeling alive for the first time in my life.

"You doing okay? It's not too much?" Masen's smooth voice asked.

I took my sight off my arm long enough to look up into his green eyes and realized I lied. The first time I ever felt alive was when I saw him.

"Earth to Bella."

My eyebrows raised.

"I asked if you're doing okay. It's not too much?"

"Oh." I shook my head. "No, it's not too much." Perfect, actually. I even kind of liked it.

He gave me the kind of smirk I was sure all the girls fell for. But I was a woman and beyond that, so it didn't affect me. Much. My heart was just racing and my palms were sweating. No big deal.

"Good. It took you long enough to come in here the first time. It surely won't be the last."

My brow creased. "How do you know how long it took me to come in here?"

He shrugged. "I see you pass by every day. Usually between five and five fifteen. Sometimes you stop like you want to come in, but you don't. Not until today. Now I'm betting you will again."

"Oh well, there's really nothing else I want." And no matter how charming he was, this would definitely be the first and last tattoo I'd be getting.

"You'll think of something. I got my first when I was sixteen. A bobcat for basketball." He rolled his eyes. "Now, look. Twelve years later and there's not one part of me that hasn't been touched."

I could imagine he'd been touched just about everywhere, and not by a tattoo gun. The visuals made me look him over. From his knuckles to his neck, he was covered in color.

"Once you stick it, you can't quit it." Masen's eyes darkened, and he smirked at me. I felt that look straight down to my toes.

Flipping Bessy off, he turned to face the front of the parlor. "Isn't that right, Jas?" he asked.

Jasper hummed from his place behind the counter, and Edward turned back to give me a wink before flipping Bessy back on and putting her against my skin again. The vibration combined with his touch overwhelmed me.

"Anybody ever tell you you have nice skin? It's soft and light." Masen ran his thumb up my inner arm to the bend of my elbow. Curling my toes, I fought the urge to squirm in my seat. "Perfect for a canvas."

I looked away as his eyes flickered up to mine. Licking my lips, I tried to swallow but my throat was too thick.

Was he flirting with me? Was that what was happening? Was I being flirted with? I couldn't breathe.

Without drawing too much attention, I tried to calm myself. A fan of my hand here. A flapping of my shirt collar there.

No way was he flirting with me when all these hipper, prettier things were floating in and out all the time. What could he have wanted with me? A grown woman who had major self-esteem issues and too much weight on her hips?

"You'll be my canvas, won't you, Bella?" He was teasing me. That had to be it.

I gave him a receptive smile to let him know I heard him, but chose not to answer, frankly, because I couldn't.

"What exactly does this M stand for anyway? A last name? A guy's name?" he asked like that would be stupid of me.

"Marie. My grandmother's first name. The paper I brought in was part of her signature. That's how she signed her Ms," I told him, leaving out the significance of the spot he was currently placing it. I already felt lame enough.

"That's pretty cool. If you're only getting one tat like you say, you might as well make it count."

My thoughts exactly.

Before I knew it, Masen was flipping Bessy back off and sliding her into her holster. I watched as he ever so gently applied Vaseline to my freshly inked skin and covered it with a piece of plastic wrap. I accepted his hand when he offered it to help me up and lead me to the counter where he pushed Jasper out of the way.

"That'll be sixty-five even."

I managed to hold back another cringe at the price and handed over my credit card. Masen rang me up then handed my card back, holding on to it when I tried to take it.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked, and I somewhat smiled, pulling the card from his fingers.

"Yeah. I'll be the one passing by the window between five and five fifteen."

He smiled down at the counter then looked back up as he leaned against the glass. "Okay then, see you tomorrow."

With a wave I left, contemplating different ways I could take to get home from now on. The whole situation was weird. I felt silly for simply entertaining the idea of me and him. However, the next day found me bustling past Masenry Ink as if my ass were on fire.

It took three business days for me to brave it enough to look in. When Masen waved, I waved, feeling where he marked me tingle.

It went on like this for a week, like clockwork. He'd wave, I'd wave. We'd go on about our lives, until the day he came out to meet me.

Instead of waving, he held up his finger for me to wait. I considered acting as if I hadn't seen it while he finished up with a customer. As soon as he stepped outside, I grabbed onto my purse strap, always unsure of what to do with my hands when he was around.

"Hey, how you been?" he asked, and I shrugged a shoulder.

"Good, I guess. You?"

"I guess I'm good, too." He smiled as if it was some sort of inside joke, and I was sure he was making fun of me.

"How's your wrist? It healing well?"

"Yeah, it's healing great."

"Great. Can I see?"

Prying my fingers from my purse strap, I held out my hand palm up so he could see his work.

"You're right. That is healing great. Looks nice. I did a pretty good job." He touched the skin surrounding it, and I squeezed my purse strap with my other hand.

"So, listen. A few of us are going to the bar down the street. They've got live music, good food. I thought maybe you could come, maybe keep me company while Jas and my brother Emmett hang all over their girlfriends."

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"We wouldn't have to hang all over each other or anything. Not that I'd be opposed to it," he more or less added under his breath.

My mouth opened a little wider. He stared at it, waiting for an answer.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I could hang all over you. I mean out. I could hang out with you."

Hell.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he gave me another one of those looks like he found me amusing or something.

Even though it was a little late for me, I agreed to meet him in front of the bar at nine. I didn't even bother changing out of the black dress I'd worn to work. It was the nicest thing I had.

My stomach did somersaults the whole walk to the bar. I almost turned around to go home when I saw him standing with a group of people outside. But him calling my name stopped me in my tracks.

"You came," he said, walking up to take my hand. "Come on, there's some people I want you to meet." He pulled me inside behind the crowd and led me to a round table at the far end of the room that was surrounded by more people.

"Guys, this is Bella. Bella, these are the guys."

A couple of them looked up and said hi. Everyone except Jasper and a tiny little thing with spiked red hair. Their pierced noses were both buried in their phones.

Masen pulled out a stool for me, making sure I got onto it safely before climbing onto his and scooting it close to mine.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Jack and Coke, please." I needed something strong to loosen me up.

Masen went to grab our drinks and I had a mini heart attack even though no one was really paying attention to me. Both Jasper and who I guessed was his girlfriend were still on their phones. The other guy was lost in the blue eyes of the blonde he was with. I found myself a little jealous, wishing somebody would look at me like that.

Masen returned, and I had to consciously pace myself not to down my drink in one gulp.

Climbing back onto his stool, he took a sip of his beer and smiled around the rim before setting it down and leaning in closer. His scent was intoxicating. Or maybe that was the liquor.

"So, Bella …"

Eyebrows raised, I finished off my drink. It was definitely his scent.

"What is it you do for a living?"

I wiped my lips before answering. "I sell insurance."

"Really."

"Yeah."

He nodded slowly. "Interesting."

I shrugged. "Not really."

Watching me out of the corner of his eye, he took another drink before offering to get me another. I readily accepted, more prepared to sip this one slowly.

Small talk was exchanged over the music. Pretty soon all other noise was drowned out and all I could hear was his voice.

My eyes alternated from roaming his features to the many tattoos covering his neck and arms. Most were lost in swirls of bright color, but I could make a few out. A koi fish here. A sugar skull there. The roman numerals on his knuckles slid across the table top, and I looked up into his eyes as they played with the end of a strand of my hair.

"You remind me of this painting I saw once," he said as he swept the hair away from my face. "It was by this local artist, Emily Waylon. She paints passion and restlessness with watercolor. Everything she does is beautiful. Beautiful but sad."

I tensed, slightly straightening. He thought I was sad?

"Anyway, there was this one painting of a woman hanging in the back, buried like she was ashamed of it or something. Or maybe that was the point." He got a far-off look on his face like he just realized something then shook his head. "No matter now. My point is the woman's long hair covered part of her face in waves of pink, purple, and blue like it was blowing in the wind. The first time I saw you, your hair was blowing across your face like that. Your eyes looked just like that painting. Dark brown, and sad. But beautiful."

I found myself breathing faster than normal. My fingers were tingling, and my head felt fuzzy. Our lips were centimeters apart.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asked, his breath hot with a hint of citrus.

All I could do was nod, letting him take my hand and lead me out the door like we hadn't just left a table full of people behind. It was only us walking hand in hand hurriedly down the street toward the tattoo shop.

"I've got an apartment upstairs," he explained, unlocking the door and pulling me inside.

He pushed me up against the window I first saw him through, pressing his lips against mine. My arms automatically wrapped around his neck in part to hold myself up, but also to pull him closer.

His tongue found mine through a mess of hot lips while his hands made their way down my sides to the hem of my dress. I didn't even think to tell him to stop, that I wasn't wearing any underwear and people could probably see as he pulled it up over my hips.

Grasping the back of my thighs, he hoisted me up, pushing us so hard into the glass I thought we might crash through. I made an involuntary whimpering noise when the zipper of his jeans pressed into me, and he twitched, letting out a low moan of his own.

My mind was racing, trying to catch up with my hands when I let go of him and went for the buckle of his jeans. He pulled back, his lips swollen and wet, and stopped me by grabbing my wrists. Raising them above my head, he trapped them with one hand while his other slid between us to undo his pants himself.

The sound of his zipper unzipping caused an echo and a fresh wave of wetness to flood what little space there was between us. More than anything, I wanted him in me. And I wanted him in me now.

Softly pressing his lips back against mine, he lined himself up to slowly slide inside. I sucked in a shaky breath and exhaled into his mouth, my eyes flicking up to meet his.

"This is where I first saw you, through this window," he said, his lips moving against mine as his hips rocked into me. "Even then I wanted you."

I was drowning in his voice, his scent, and a sea of his own watercolor. The green of his eyes, the red of his flushed cheeks. His vibrant tattoos were swimming all around me.

It was all too much. It wasn't enough. It was like he sensed it. Like he felt it, too. His movements sped, and he bucked into me harder, the harsh movement quickly pushing us to finish. I tensed, holding my breath when he stalled, letting out a grunt before releasing my wrists so I could wrap them back around his neck. He rested his forehead on my chest, both of us breathless.

With the haze clearing from my head, I came to my senses wondering what I had just done. There was an emptiness left when he let go of my legs and slid from my body. But he filled it with a simple touch.

"Come upstairs and stay with me. We'll get breakfast in the morning. I'll walk you home."

The offer sounded enticing. Taking his hand, I let him lead me to the back of the parlor and up the steps to his apartment where I seized yet another moment.

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Public voting: February 21 2016 to March 6 2016.