Virile (Whiskey Run: Savage Ink Book 1) Read online

  Virile

  Whiskey Run: Savage Ink

  Hope Ford

  Contents

  1. Gracie

  2. Gracie

  3. Gracie

  4. Gracie

  5. Gracie

  6. Gracie

  7. Gracie

  8. Gracie

  9. Gracie

  10. Aiden

  11. Gracie

  12. Gracie

  Epilogue

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  About the Author

  Virile © 2021 by Hope Ford

  Editor: Kasi Alexander

  Cover Design: Cormar Covers

  Photographer: James Critchley

  Cover Model: George RJ

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  1

  Gracie

  There’s not really a bad part of town in Whiskey Run, but there are parts of town that my father has forbidden me from going to. The Distillery is one of them. But that’s never really bothered me. I have no reason to go there. I’m not old enough to drink so what would be the point? But the other places I’ve been forbidden to go are on the other side of town around the Whiskey Whistler Bar. There are a bunch of businesses—a pawn shop, a liquor store, a tattoo shop, a bar—and my father has instilled in my brain that I have no reason to be “on that side” of town. And I’ve listened to him. I always listen to him. I always do exactly what I’m told. But not today.

  I turned eighteen today. I’ve had all these dreams for when this day would come. I would finally be free. I could live my life the way I want to instead of how my dad told me I needed to. I’ve done everything he’s asked of me. I graduated with a four point five. I was valedictorian. I joined the clubs he wanted me to join. Hell, I hated French club, but I joined it because that’s what he wanted me to do. I never bucked him because even though he’s my father, I also know he’s an evil man. When my mother died five years ago, he changed, and there’s no reaching him now. He wants things his way or else you face the wrath of Brandon Franklin... also known as the mayor of Whiskey Run.

  I take a deep breath as I walk down the cobbled sidewalk. I’m doing my best not to draw attention to myself, but I can feel all the eyes on me. Some of them probably know who I am, but most of them don’t. My father has made sure I’ve stayed out of the limelight, and at least for that I’m thankful.

  I reach into my purse and wrap my hand around the tiny sketchbook in there. That has been my freedom. When I wasn’t allowed to do anything except school or school-sponsored events, I started drawing. My father didn’t approve, and since the first time I showed him, when he ripped the drawing in two, I haven’t shown him another piece of work.

  But today... I have to do something. I have to.

  I thought for sure when I turned eighteen I could do what I want. That’s what I’ve been holding out for. I was accepted to the University of Berkeley all the way on the other side of the country. It’s far... but I still worried it wouldn’t be far enough. And then my father dropped his bombshell on me today. He had written the university and declined the full scholarship I had been offered. I called them to try and convince them to give me the scholarship back, but I was told that they had already offered it to someone else. In one afternoon, my dreams for my future were shattered. My father gave me the acceptance letter to Jasper College, the local community college where I would be able to stay at home and commute back and forth to school. In that instant, I wanted to die. I didn’t want to spend one more day in his house with him.

  I waited until he’d left for his weekly town meeting, stuffed my sketchbook into my purse, and walked out of the house. I know I need a way out, and I’m not giving up, but I need a plan. I’m not stupid enough to think I can leave without any money, plus I wouldn’t get very far with the GPS tracker he has hidden on my car. So I walked to town, taking alleys and backstreets to get me to the other side of town. I don’t stop until I’m outside Savage Ink.

  The sign is yellow with black lettering that looks like graffiti. I lift my head and look at the big building in front of me. I’m not worried about changing my mind, because it’s already been made up. I want this...no, I need this. This may be ridiculous to some, but to me it’s going to be my very first taste of freedom.

  Aiden

  I look around the shop, and just like every other time I do, a sense of pride hits me in the chest. I worked hard to open this shop, and finally after five years, I have the building almost paid off and I’ve finally started to recognize my success. The days of living paycheck to paycheck are over. Of course I never had to really. My family has always been willing to help me out, and I have access to a big trust fund, but I’ve never wanted to use it. I wanted to do this all on my own terms. I’m now a sought-after tattoo artist, and I definitely don’t take it for granted. My client that just left came all the way from Jasper to get his tattoo. Jasper isn’t all that far away... just thirty to forty-five minutes, but there are three really well-known tattoo shops there, and I can’t help but feel a little pride in knowing he came to me instead of just going down the street from his house.

  I finish washing my hands when I hear the door ding out front. I sigh because I’m dog tired and ready to go home, maybe drink a shot of Blaze Whiskey, and head to bed. The walk from the back to the front, I remind myself to put another ad out for help. We are in desperate need of a receptionist. I have no appointments, and Treyton and Dawson have already left for the day, so it leaves me to deal with the unwanted newcomer.

  “We’re closed,” I say before I even walk across the threshold from the back to the lobby area. I stop suddenly in my tracks and as soon as I realize my mouth is hanging open, I slam it shut.

  The woman standing in front of me is not the usual type we get in here. She’s an innocent. It’s obvious by the way the cardigan is buttoned all the way up to her neck. She has mid-length blond hair with the prettiest pink lips I’ve ever seen. Instantly, images of exactly what those puffy lips could be doing has my dick hard and my heart racing.

  Her eyes are taking me in, and I swear she’s as stunned by me as I am by her. She takes a step backward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were closing.”

  She turns to leave, and my heart plummets. There’s no way I can let her leave, not now when I don’t even know her name. Fuck that, I may never let her leave.

  I reach out to stop her, wrapping my hand around her arm. “Hold up. I’m not in any rush. What can I do for you?” I ask her plainly, but even I can hear the dirty thoughts that are making my voice almost growly.

  I take a step toward her, my hand still on her, and I pull her to me almost possessively.

  She turns her head but not her body, which is fine with me. I swear her ass is cradled right against my cock, and I don’t want to lose that feeling. She lifts her eyes to me, and her voice is trembling. “A... tattoo. I came for a tattoo, but I didn’t think... I should have made an appointment.”

  I should let her go, I know I should. I’m probably scaring the fuck out of her, but I can’t force myself to open my hand and release her... not until I know she’s not going to run.

  “I can do your tattoo.”

  She blinks in confusion, as if she’s trying to formulate what I just said to her. “But I thought you were closed.”

  I smirk, smiling at her as my hand moves up to the base of her neck. I’m taking way more liberties with her than I should, but she doesn’t seem off
ended or put off by it. “I’d be a fool to let you leave without putting my mark on you.”

  2

  Gracie

  He’s smiling at me. He’s so close, I can smell his manly scent, and it’s not any cologne or anything I’ve ever smelled before. I wonder if it’s just him. Whatever it is, I want to take deep breaths, inhaling him in, and I wish that somehow, I could bottle it and smell it later when I’m alone in my room tonight.

  I can feel my face heat at the thought. His hand tightens on my neck, and I bite my lip to hold in the whimper. There’s a pull in my lower belly, and I can feel the moisture between my legs. All of this, everything that I’m feeling is new to me, and I don’t have a clue what to think about it or do with it. I should probably be indignant. At the very least, I should put some distance between us, but I don’t. I stand exactly where I’m at, my heart racing in my chest. “What do you mean put your mark on me?”

  He’s staring at me, and I stand here, biting my lip.

  He lifts his hand, and I miss the strong pressure around my neck. That is until his thumb wipes across my lip so I’m not biting it anymore. I suck in a deep breath and hold it. The need to stick my tongue out and taste him is overpowering, and I swear he’s waiting for it... maybe even hoping for it.

  He searches my eyes. “A tattoo. I’m going to put a tattoo on you.”

  I let out a breath remembering why I’m here, and the day comes back at me like a Mack truck. I pull from his grasp. “Yes, I’d like a tattoo, but I can schedule an appointment.”

  He’s angry... maybe not angry, but he’s not happy that I pulled away. Well, I’m not either. I’m already imagining his hands on me and the feelings it will invoke on me. But my life is in shambles right now. I’m in no position to date... plus my father won’t allow it.

  He breaks through my thoughts. “Come to the back, you can go through the books and find what you want.”

  He turns away from me, and I have no choice but to follow him. I couldn’t imagine walking away from him right now. He may be someone I just met and I don’t know anything about him, but he’s definitely the best thing to happen to me today. I’m not ready to just let it go yet.

  I walk behind him, watching the way his back muscles stretch the Henley shirt across his shoulders. His jeans are snug, and I’m definitely appreciating his tight butt. I follow him down the hallway, and he walks into a room with a big sprawling chair, a counter with supplies and then two chairs up against the wall. He’s watching me again. “This is a nice place, not what I expected.” I cringe, did I just say that out loud? “I mean...”

  He holds his hand up to stop me. “No, it’s fine. I know what you meant. And thank you, this is my place. I’m Aiden Savage.”

  “Savage Ink,” I mutter, making the connection with his last name and the name of the shop.

  His lips curl up as he nods. He points to the chair, and I lift myself up onto the edge of it. “Tell me your name,” he demands.

  From anyone else it would sound bossy or rude, but from him all it does is make that pull in my lower belly tug even harder. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but I know I like it. “Gracie,” I tell him in a half whisper.

  “Gracie,” he repeats huskily. He looks me up and down, burning a path on my body. “That name suits you.”

  Before I can ask him what he means, he grabs a book off the counter. “These are the tattoos I’ve done before, but I’m thinking I’d like to do something unique for you.”

  I grab the book, because even though I know the design I want, I still want to see his work. I open the first page and am floored. “You did these?” I ask in awe.

  He nods, and I swear there is a pink tinge on his cheeks like he’s embarrassed. “They are amazing.” I keep flipping through the book, and every tattoo is better than the last. “My goodness, Aiden, you really have talent.”

  He ignores my compliment. “Tell me what you were thinking, and we can start from there.”

  I set the book down on the chair beside me and reach into my purse. I’m almost embarrassed to pull the artwork out. I never let anyone see any of my drawings except for my dad that one time, and it seems even riskier now to have Aiden look at it. He’s a professional artist. I would be devastated if he said he didn’t like it.

  I pull the small sketchbook out and flip to the last page. Taking a deep breath, I hand it to him and lower my eyes. I can’t see his reaction. I don’t want to.

  The room is completely silent, but I still don’t look at him. I bind my hands together in my lap and stare at the chipped polish on my thumb.

  His voice is deep and fills the room. “Can I look at the rest of them?”

  Finally, I look at him. “Why? That’s the one I want.”

  He lifts the book up between us. “Because this is surreal, Gracie. It’s beautiful and breathtaking... I swear it looks as if it could fly right off the page. You’re gifted.” He grips the book tighter. “Please, let me look.”

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding, and even though I can’t put voice to it, I nod my head. He likes my drawings.

  Aiden

  When she finally nods her head, I flip to the beginning of the book and start at the first page. Her artwork is amazing. There are so many uplifting images of hope and dreams it floors me. But there’s also sadness in some of them, images of caged birds with big sad eyes that I swear look just like Gracie’s big, sky blue ones. Does she feel like a caged bird? The thought sickens me that she would feel anything but happiness. But when I finally get back to the image of the butterfly she wants tattooed on her body, I know I’m not wrong. The way she drew the butterfly in flight, with the same blue tones of her eyes, I know it’s freedom she’s yearning for, and as I hold her book to my chest, I vow to give it to her. I may not know her story, but I will before the night is over.

  “Thank you for letting me look at these, Gracie. I would be honored to put this tattoo on you.”

  There’s so much more I want to say. I want to demand answers, but I can tell she’s worried about what I will think of her drawings, so I don’t want to push her. She finally nods and I ask her, “Where do you want it?”

  I hold my breath waiting for her to answer. It’s already hard being this close to her; I don’t know how I’m going to control myself when I get to touch her. She blushes from her chest all the way to her hairline. “I need to get it where people won’t see it.”

  I suck in a breath, and then it hits me. “How old are you, Gracie?”

  I say a silent prayer that she’s of age. I don’t know what I’ll do if she tells me she’s not.

  “Eighteen.” She says it so softly, I have to ask her again.

  “How old?”

  She blows a breath, tossing the hair on her forehead up. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a wallet, then holds it up to me. “See. I’m eighteen.”

  I take the wallet from her, not because I don’t believe her but because I want to know more about her. Gracie Franklin, born July 5th, 2003. Her address is on Hightower Lane, and I knew before I even saw it that she was from the other part of town. “Today’s your birthday.”

  She nods, and even though she smiles, it’s a little sad. “I can pay you in cash... I can’t use a card... I’m not supposed to be here.”

  I grip the wallet tighter in my hands. “Do you have a man?” I ask her gruffly, but even if she says yes, I’m not going to give her up. He’s obviously not a good man if he let her come here on her own.

  She shakes her head. “No, my father would have a fit if he knew I was here.”

  I sigh in relief. A dad I can handle. I couldn’t handle a boyfriend. I hand her back her wallet and watch her put it back into her purse. “It’s okay... I won’t tell.” At least not yet. But I don’t say it out loud. She may have a controlling father, but she’s eighteen, and I’m not going to let it go long without telling anyone that will listen that Gracie is mine. Even her father. “Plus, you’re in luck. It’s your birthday and I di
dn’t get you anything. So the tattoo is on the house. My gift to you.”

  She looks at me skeptically. “That doesn’t sound like a smart way to do business. You give tattoos away on birthdays? What’s stopping people from just coming on their birthdays?”

  I laugh because I can’t help myself. I was right, she definitely is innocent. “Just you, baby. You’re the only one getting free tattoos around here.”

  Her eyes widen. “But I can pay... just in cash.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not taking your money.” Fuck, baby girl, I should be paying you to touch your body. I shake my head to try to keep the dirty thoughts at bay. There’s no way I can tattoo her with a raging hard-on. “So where do you want it?”

  She leans back in the chair on one arm. With her other hand, she points to her lower abdomen. “Here. But I need it so it will be covered by my panties or my bathing suit bottoms.”

  Fuck. Me. I’m not worried about a hard-on now. I’m pretty sure I’m about to come in my jeans.

  3

  Gracie

  This is crazy. I know it is. I’m being pulled in so many directions right now I don’t know what the right thing to do is. My father could bust in here at any moment. I don’t think he has a tracker on my phone, but who knows really? And if he does, I’m not the only one that will feel his wrath. Aiden will too, and I don’t want that.

  “Can you lock the door? I don’t want... anyone to walk in while I have my dress up around my waist.”