Zeb: Rugged Ink: Rugged Ink, #1

By Amy Davies

Being a tattoo artist at Rugged Ink is no bad job. The women come in floods. Wanting and needing my hands on them - and not only for their ink - you can bet that I snatch up every opportunity that passes my way. That is, until a beautifully wicked angel stepped into the shop and stole the breath from my lungs. I knew this one was different. Ranger Dennison was wicked talented, funny, and loyal all in one beautiful package. We flirt, we laugh, and we joke. So instead of jumping in d*ck first, we built up a friendship that sometimes blurred the lines.Now, I'm ready to show my hand and see where is takes me; us. Let's hope when I cross that line it doesn't backfire and leave her tattooed on my heart but not in my life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Davies
• Release date: Oct 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201156633

Amy Davies

Amy Davies is fascinated by people and their collective and individual behaviour. Captivated by the state of the corporate world and the people in it, Amy began wondering how professionals achieve fulfilling and successful careers amidst a backdrop of constant flux. Realizing it would take more than hard work, credentials and commitment to advance, she started exploring what it would take for businesses and individuals to thrive in this reorg world. She set out to answer the question: How do we manage a successful career when we’re constantly losing or changing jobs? Amy works with organizations through reorgs so employees feel empowered and the company remains profitable. Amy also works with select individuals through transition, enabling them to achieve their ultimate professional goals. Amy Davies lives in Toronto with her husband and two children.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ranger

I yawn while stirring my coffee, my vision blurry as I scroll through my IG account. My sleeping pattern has been shit these last few months, ever since losing my dad. He was my world, my everything, especially after my mom passed.

My mother was the light of my father's life— until I came along and joined the sunshine, as he always told me. I was totally a Daddy’s girl. He always had time for me. He came to school plays and sporting events, even my art shows. Losing my mom in a tragic accident knocked us both off kilter, but we got through it together. Despite being only nine, I knew I had to be strong for my dad.

My amazingly brilliant dad died a little over six months ago from liver cancer. He fought a hard fight, but in the end, it took him from me. It was bittersweet because I missed him so much, but I knew he would be reunited with my mom.

He left me everything, including the family business and the family home; a large, five-bedroom, ranch-style house. Knowing I didn’t have a clue about what to do with the business of trading and shipping, he arranged for his friend to buy it from me at a rate they both agreed on, which I was happy about. So now, at twenty-seven, I am a millionaire.

But I’m alone in this world. Both my parents were only children, and so was I, so I have no extended family. When things went down with my father, I was living in Long Beach. I had been tattooing for a few years with Monty, an old friend of mine.

I came down here to execute my father’s will, and I knew I needed to stay because this was home. The memories of family dinners, the parties we had in the garden. Me sliding down the banister on the stairs. On my first day here, Jase heard I was in town and reached out, and as they say, ‘the rest is history’.

My first day working here is something I won’t forget in a hurry. The receptionist, Juliet, aka Jules, as most call her, was the first to greet me when I came in the door, and having now worked with her for some time, it is damn clear the girl could run the Army with no faults. Before we’ve even asked for something, she has it on order. The stock room is always filled with equipment, and the lounge is fully stocked with our favorite drinks and snacks. She is a mother hen, albeit a very quiet one.

Lee introduced himself to me with his sexy Irish accent, greeting me with his handsome looks, dirty blond hair, and two arms full of tattoos.

My gaze was pulled from Lee when Zeb stepped into my space. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him: olive skin, with a days’ worth of stubble covering a tight jaw and surrounding the most sensuous lips I had ever seen on a man.

Dark green, soulful eyes stared back at me. His jet-black hair, short on the sides and longer on top, was brushed back, and the tattoos covering him enhanced his already sexy looks. One arm was covered in tattoos, some matching but some in random places, and he had a sexy hand tattoo with some script on.

The smirk on his luscious lips had me licking mine. It was like the whole world faded away, as corny as that sounds. I think he felt it too, because it was a long while before he finally shook his head, gave me a genuine smile, and introduced himself.

To say we hit it off is an understatement. He is now one of my best friends— a best friend I would love to have sex with. But we have a few issues stopping us— well, mainly I do. Zeb is a little man-whore, apparently like the men in the Rugged Skulls MC were before they each settled down, found women, and had kids.

Plus, there’s the fact that I’m six years older than Zeb. He’s twenty-one, turning twenty-two soon, and I’m turning twenty-eight in a few months. Zeb has dropped hints that he doesn’t care about the age gap, but with everything I have been dealing with over the last six months, I feel older than my body actually is. Ida thinks I haven’t grieved enough yet, and therefore I'm holding back.

Lost in my thoughts of the last few months and scrolling through my phone, I don’t notice anyone enter the room until arms wrap around my waist, scaring the shit out of me. I drop my phone on the counter and almost knock my coffee over.

Whoa, sugar, breathe, it’s only me, comes that deep yet smooth voice. I hear the sexy timbre of it in my dreams every night, telling me how much he loves fucking me.

Shit, Zeb, you scared the crap out of me. He kisses my bare shoulder, like he always does, and steps to the side, leaning his elbow on the counter and smiling at me.

My gaze scans his body, taking in his half open biker boots with his jeans half tucked into them, and his black t-shirt. The black leather cuff on his wrist was a gift from his dad, for his sixteenth birthday. It’s something I oddly love seeing on him.

You love me sneaking up on you. He smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

Not really, dude. I’m not into men with creep tendencies.

Good thing I’m not a creep, then. He grins.

I take a sip of my coffee and a moan slips free. Like most Americans, I’m addicted to coffee. We live by it.

Opening my eyes, my gaze locks on Zeb, but his eyes are zoned in on my mouth, with a desired look in them.

Something you need to know about me and Zeb, is that we have a touchy feely but non-sexual relationship. Hence the kiss on the shoulder. It’s something normal for us. However, the sexual chemistry between us is off the charts, and we know it— hell anyone within a few feet of us can see it.

We can get inappropriate with our banter at times, so some people don’t understand our friendship, but it’s not for them to understand it.

Zeb. I push his shoulder, and he snaps out of his stupor. What have you got today?

He blinks a few times and licks his lips; lips that I would love to feel pressed against—

Nope. I need to stop this way of thinking. Oh, who the hell am I trying to convince. I doubt I will ever stop thinking of him that way.

I have a tribute eagle to start today, and twins coming in for matching tattoos. He clears his throat and goes to make himself a coffee. Once he is done, he turns and leans against the countertop, watching me watch him.

I can feel his eyes rolling over my body, taking in today’s outfit: black wedged sneakers, maroon jeans with rips in them, and a cropped black t-shirt with the slogan ‘Hello boys’ in white.

My long, straight, ruby fusion colored hair, with the added cotton candy pink under layer at the back, is styled into a fishtail braid. Yeah, some would say it’s daring but I do me. I never follow a trend.

See something you like there, Zeb? I ask him. The panty-dropping smirk appears and my lady bits tingle at the sight.

This is how he gets all the girls falling over him. He doesn’t need the desirability being in an MC gives him. All he has to do is smile and lick those suckable lips, and they are like putty in his hands.

Always, babe, you know that. He winks. Who have you got today, cupcake? he asks.

Don’t fucking call me that, Zeb. You know I hate it. One of the fake-ass bitches in high school used to call me that, I snap, then sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, before looking at him, seeing remorse in his eyes.

I have two brothers coming in today who want identification tattoos. They’re going on their first deployment in a month’s time, I explain.

He nods and leans against the counter, his gaze fixed on me as he tucks his hand under his armpit, the other holding his mug. He’s acting weird today.

What? He smiles and moves closer.

I had a dream about you last night— well, us really, he tells me.

Oh yeah? What were we doing?

His smile widens and I see the mischief come out to play. He licks his lips again and fuck me, this action on him should be illegal. Surely, I can take him to court and have him be forbidden from doing it on grounds of it being super distracting and sexy as hell.

Oh, I don’t think you really need to know. I mean, you know how horny men can get when a sexy as fuck woman is the star in their dreams.

I pretend to be grossed out.

Oh, eww. Were we doing the deed? I fake gag, and he laughs, his smile lighting up his face.

Deed? What the hell? What are you, ten? We weren’t ‘doing the deed’; we were fucking. I was taking you in the back of my truck. The stars were floating around us, and the sounds of the ocean were drifting by. You were begging for me to go harder. He steps closer and my breath catches in my throat. You were screaming my name, asking me to stick my finger in your ass, to stretch you out, ready to—

I slap his shoulder and step around him. He knows I don’t do anal. A bad experience put me off that for life.

His laughter fills the room, and my body responds to it. It always does. The sound is deep, like the perfect soul song.

Oh, come on, you know I’m teasing, he calls to me as I leave the room. I look over my shoulder at him and wink, and he chuckles, before downing his coffee and running after me.

I yelp and rush out to the main floor, where Lee is lying down on the customers’ couch, his sunglasses firmly in place.

I’ll catch your ass, you know that, Zeb calls, and I laugh.

Guys, for fuck’s sake, can it. My head is pounding, Lee grumbles.

Maybe if you didn’t drink on a work night, you wouldn’t have to deal with their noise, Juliet pipes in from behind her desk.

I halt my steps and Zeb closes in behind me, ready for either of us to step in if needed. Lee and Juliet have a love/hate relationship. She likes him and we know he likes her too, but he’s been burned in the past and doesn’t trust women. And Juliet— well, one drunken night she confided to me about her abusive ex, who she ran from.

Juliet hates confrontation whereas Lee loves it. He loves making a scene, which is something you wouldn’t have guessed since his secrets are wrapped up as tight as a nun’s vagina.

We watch as Lee sits up, revealing his glare as he removes his sunglasses. I can feel the anger radiating from him. This is what it’s like between them, but I will give props to Juliet; she never backs down from him. She told me she’s been run over by too many men in her life, and she won’t take it anymore. She may not bitch him out, but she will calmly put him in his place.

Did I ask for your fucking opinion? She stands firm, not answering him in any way. When, where and who the fuck I drink with is none of your business, Juliet, so stay the fuck out of it.

Am I in your business? I was simply stating that if you didn’t like the volume of their voices because of the hangover you are currently suffering from, then you might not want to go out and drink so much the night before, knowing full well that you have to come into work in the morning and permanently mark someone’s body. Someone who, I imagine, would be seriously pissed off if you fucked up their design. She shrugs. Just saying.

With that, she sits down at her desk and starts clicking on the keyboard.

I glance at Zeb and find his eyes focused on my mouth, but he quickly raises them and looks into mine, then winks. He kisses my shoulder and slaps my ass before walking over to his station, calling over to us.

Let’s get to work. People won’t tattoo themselves— well, unless they think Lee will do a shittier job.

Juliet giggles behind her computer, earning a glare from Lee.

I burst out laughing, gaining his attention, so I quirk an eyebrow at him.

Point made, my friend. Point made. I bounce my eyebrows at him and go to my station, getting everything set up for my clients.

With the design ready to go, the ink pots ready and set up, my machine is primed and ready to be used. The smell of the inks and the sound of the tattoo machine soothes me. I’m ready for the day, and I’m going to nail every design that comes through the door.

Every day is a new challenge. How you handle it is up to you.

Chapter 2

Zeb

I look up when I hear Ranger laugh from her station, and it brings a smile to my face. Seeing her happy and smiling is something that I plan to make happen every day, if I get the chance. But it’s not only making her happy and smile. Oh no, I want to fuck her into next week and make her moan and cry out my name.

The day she walked into Rugged Ink, I knew I would have a taste of her. She wore a pair of painted on faded blue jeans with rips in them, a blue V-neck tee tucked in at the front, and some sexy as fuck black wedge shoes.

Ranger Dennison doesn’t dress like any of the female tattoo artists I have met over the years. They are normally dressed in ripped jeans, ripped t-shirts and sneakers. They are covered in tattoos and have multi-colored hair and dark make-up.

Ranger, however, is a mix of every style: tight jeans, crop tops, flared jeans, dresses, skirts, colors, patterns— the works. And fuck me, I want her like my next breath. Women come to me; I never have to chase them. Being the son of the SAA of the Rugged Skulls MC— hell, being the nephew of the members— is enough to get me free pussy whenever I want it.

It’s worked out for me over the years, since my mom passed away and my dad came to collect me. When the bomb was dropped on him that he had a son, Clint Burkes, aka Sarge, stepped up and never looked back.

Now I have a great stepmom, Estelle, who I call, ‘mom’. I have a stepsister, Hazel, and a half-brother, Maverick. They are my family, as well as the club, in which I have many aunts and uncles to pull me in line if I ever step out, and cousins that I can corrupt.

I look over to Ranger and see her with her head down, concentrating on the design she’s doing, a sweet, genuine smile on her face as she talks to the guys she’s tattooing. Brothers who look like the all-American man, built as fuck, like a pair of linebackers. They have light hair, blue eyes, and smiles that I bet have the women dropping their panties for them.

Fuckers. Her smiles belong to me. Her laughter belongs to me. Not that I’m a stalker or anything.

Zeb, your clients are here, Juliet calls to me. I nod at her, before making my way to the front desk. The two girls standing there look about my age.

Ladies, I greet. They giggle, and usually I would lap up their reaction but today, something has me on edge and I think it’s to do with the beauty sat at her station working on two guys.

She laughs again, and my stomach tightens as their deep laughs mix with hers. Letting the green-eyed monster simmer, I make eye contact with the girls and give them my panty-dropping smirk.

Well, follow me. I turn away from them and lead them to my station. Ranger looks up and I smile. The quicker we get set up, the quicker I can get my hands on you. They giggle again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ranger’s body tense up, and she stops tattooing, bringing her gaze to mine.

I see the little shake of her head before she looks back down. The guy she was working on glances at me, and I swear I see the disapproval in his eyes, but I push that away. He knows nothing about me; about us.

The girls chatter while I get ready to do their designs. I can feel someone’s eyes on me, and I glance up and see Ranger looking at me while the guys swap over. Her shoulders are tight, a little dip between her eyebrows showing her frown. She licks her lip, causing my dick to jerk in my jeans.

This back and forth between us will come to an end one day. I just need to pray like fuck that it’s a good ending and not a shitty one, but we all know it will end one way or the other.

The issue with the both of us, is the simple fact that we’re both stubborn as fuck.

Zeb, are you ready for me? My gaze snaps to the girls.

I clear my throat and smile. Yeah, all set to go. Lift your top up and tuck it under your bra. Do you need me to pull the curtain round, for some privacy?

Around each section, we have a large black curtain that’s tucked away behind a hook, until we need it for clients like these two girls. They’re both having a tattoo under one of their breasts.

They look at each other before bringing their gazes back to me, and fucking hell I can see the desire in their eyes. I swallow hard, forcing myself to not look at Ranger.

That might be a good idea. I mean, you do need to get up close and personal with my girls. Her voice has taken on a high-pitched tone, something I’ve heard before. It’s never bothered me, but today the sound grates on my nerves.

More laughter comes from my left, and I turn to look at Ranger, who slaps the guy’s thigh while laughing at something he said. My anger spikes, a green haze clouds my vison, and I lose control for a split second. But it’s long enough for me to regret the words that leave my mouth.

Yeah, baby, we can close the curtain. I will definitely be getting up close and personal with your tits. No one needs to see that play out. I smile at her, and she winks at me, biting her lip, while the other sister sits looking at me with a smile on her face.

One sister sits on the chair while the other takes the stool in the corner. I reach over for the curtain and look up, making sure it doesn’t get caught on the rail. As I get close to Ranger’s station, I see her look at me with disappointment in her eyes.

My body freezes. We are locked on each other. My heart is thumping hard, while Ranger just gives her head another little shake, before she looks away from me, forcing a smile at her clients.

Motherfucking bastard.

I snap the curtain in place and step over to my stool, where I finish getting ready to start the tattoos. The girl puts her hand on my thigh, smirking at me, but it feels like my skin has been burned. Moving her hand away, I ignore her frown and flex my fingers, ready to get started.

Lay down, I tell her, again not missing the fact that she has removed her shirt.

I heard you’re good with your hands, Zeb. Is that true? she mutters.

I am, I mutter back. Check that positioning, I tell her absentmindedly.

Oh, this position is perfect. Don’t you think? I nod and add some Vaseline to the area before starting. I don’t even give her a warning, so she flinches a little.

The tattoo doesn’t take long because it’s just a simple quote. A stupid quote. But apparently, they wanted it. The first twin jumps off the bed and the other climbs on, making sure to point her ass in my direction, even though she really doesn’t have to get on the bed that way. Fuck my life.

Shaking my head, I put the template down on her skin, but as I go to move away, she grabs my hand and places it on her tit, holding it there.

Don’t they feel real, she says a little too loudly, and I groan, knowing full well that everyone in the shop heard it, including Ranger. Fuck my life.

She gives me a look that tells me she knows full well what she did. My anger goes up a level, but I reel it in and get the tattoo done. I ignore them both as they talk about some party they are planning this weekend. When I’ve finally finished, I give one last swipe of the design and sit back, pointing to the mirror.

Have a look. I don’t pay attention to either of them as I start to clean up. They squeal and turn back to me with big smiles. Once their tattoos are wrapped and they have placed their shirts back on, I take a deep breath and pull the curtain back around, tucking it into the hook on the wall.

Ranger is still at her station, finishing up the other guy by the looks of things. Both men glare at me, but Ranger doesn’t look up once, causing my stomach to knot. The man on the bed mouths, You fucked up. I flip him off and turn back to the girls, who are taking selfies.

You can pay at the front desk. I point to Juliet, who is scowling at me. Lee isn’t at his station. He’s probably in the back sleeping off his hangover until his first client comes in.

I lead the girls over to Juliet, who already has the card machine primed, ready to bill them and get them out of here. She stays professional, though, and turns her scowl into a fake smile as she addresses the girls.

It’s contactless, so just tap the machine with your card, she tells them.

They both frown at Jules, then look at each other with confusion.

So how does the money go into the card machine if I don’t slide it in? Oh, is Zeb giving us free tattoos? She smiles at me.

Jules looks at me, cocking an eyebrow. Do you know them? Are you giving them a free tattoo? she asks.

I shake my head at her and pinch the bridge of my nose. No to both, I reply.

Chuckles come from behind me, but I don’t