A Stag Family Christmas (Stag Brothers Book 4)

by Lainey Davis

  A Stag Family Christmas

  By Lainey Davis

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  © 2018 Lainey Davis

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Individuals pictured on the cover are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.

  Many thanks to Nicky Lewis and Keith G for editorial input.

  Thank you for supporting independent authors!

  CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  Epilogue

  1

  THATCHER

  I hate when the phone rings while I'm blowing glass. It messes up my concentration. In my haste to answer and set down my work, I drop my damn cell phone. But my assistant, Cody, is bellowing so loud I can hear him anyway. "Dude, you better get over here," he shouts.

  "Where the hell are you, Code?" I wipe my hands on my jeans and pick up the phone so I can hear him better. I switch off the radio, too. They’re already playing Christmas music. In late October! “What’s that, Cody?”

  "I'm in the fucking tattoo shop, like I said, and I mean it. You'd better get here. Stat." I sigh and look at my watch. It's three. If I leave my studio now, for whatever the hell Cody needs, I wont' be able to get back into my creative zone before Emma gets home from work. Before we lived together, I’d just work all night long if I had inspiration. What the hell did I care? But now I actually enjoy spending time outside of my glass studio. My girl has taught me a lot about loving life, and usually it shows up in my art. I’ve been busy enough to bring Cody on full-time.

  Emma hates how much I've been working lately, but I've got orders out the ass from people wanting Christmas gifts and private lessons and all that shit I hate about the business side of Stag Glass. I really can’t swing an impromptu trip to the tattoo parlor. “I don’t know, Cody. I’m working here.”

  About a year ago, one of the top architects in Pittsburgh commissioned me to create a custom piece of glass for his new bar, and to make all the damn glassware he'd need to serve drinks. Ever since then, people are beating down my door for high balls and shot glasses, and wanting date night glass blowing classes where I serve wine. I keep telling my agent I'm not an Ikea. She keeps smiling and handing me contracts.

  “Thatcher, I swear to God, you need to see this.” Cody hangs up on me.

  "Mother fucker," I growl, shutting the furnace and flicking off the lights. I'll have to come back to work after Emma goes to bed. I rub my hands through my hair while I wait for my truck to warm up. It's been abnormally cold this fall, and the engine sputters a bit in my beat up old Ranger. Better than walking, I think, shifting into gear and heading toward my old neighborhood.

  I plan to spend as little time as possible dealing with Cody’s crisis so I can get back in time to give Emma a ride home from work. She can’t drive because of her epilepsy, even though she’s been seizure free for a long time. I used to live in an old industrial neighborhood that wasn’t walking distance to anywhere. Relocating close to Emma was the last I could do, considering she walks everywhere, all the time.

  I don't think she took enough layers along today to walk home in sub-freezing wind gusts. I shoot Emma a text that I'll be waiting for her in the parking lot when she gets done with her meeting, and then I open the door to see what kind of trouble is brewing at Green Mamba Tattoo. I figure Cody changed his mind halfway through a neck tattoo or something. I've had my fair share of ink regret. Green Mamba is pretty good at transforming mistakes into mystique.

  Cody meets me inside, where I raise an eyebrow at him and he yanks me behind the privacy curtain. "Thatcher. Look." He points, and I see my brothers' wives giggling, leaning over a binder of designs. And then, holy shit. There's my girl. Emma Cheswick, my previously un-tattooed girlfriend, stands right with them.

  "What the hell is going on here, Chezz?” I bark out. “I thought you had a meeting." Hearing my voice, she whips her red head around and drops her jaw. Juniper and Alice peek over her shoulder, register my presence, and then look at each other and laugh.

  Emma coughs. "Well," she says, blushing. "I'm meeting the girls here. They're getting the Stag family tattoo." Years ago, I designed a tattoo and my brothers and I all came here to get it on my 18th birthday. The tattoo is silhouette of a stag leaping over mountain laurel, in honor of our mother, Laurel Stag. Mom died in a car crash when we were kids, and we've all got the tattoo on our chest, above our heart.

  For me, it was the first of many, many tats. I’m not so sure how Ty and Tim will feel about their wives getting the family ink, but the idea of my girl doing it turns me the hell on.

  "Are you getting it, too?" I step forward and grasp Emma's hand, my voice quiet. The idea of her laying a permanent claim to me, right on her skin…shit. I rub her palm with my thumb, imagining her milk-white skin in contrast to the black ink.

  Emma shakes her head, her eyes sad. "I'd want to talk to Dr. Khalsa about it first," she says. Emma’s neurologist is a top-notch researcher and has helped her keep all her symptoms in check. She hasn't had a seizure since we first met. She points a thumb at Alice, Tim's wife, who has now hopped up on the table and removed her sweater. "The girls just asked me to come along while they got inked," Emma says. She frowns at me. "It's supposed to be Stag-women only, but Cody wandered in and spilled the beans."

  Emma tilts her head to the side and makes a sexy, pouty face at me. "You wouldn't call your brothers and spoil the surprise, would you, Thatchy?"

  I roll my eyes at her. "Jesus, Emma. Do not call me Thatchy ever again." She laughs. I look at the transfer the artist is about to stick on Alice, and furrow my brow. "That's not my design."

  Alice beams, and sucks in her breath as the alcohol wipe hits her shoulder blade. She pulls her tank top to the side a bit to give more access and tells me that she asked the artist to make some tweaks. I squint a little closer and see Alice added a baby deer curled up next to its father. "I added Petey," she says, smiling when she says my nephew's name. "There's plenty of space for more little fawns, too."

  I draw Emma in for a kiss, appreciating how much my family all supports each other. These women don’t have to love us, but they’re here with us. And for each other, apparently.

  This connection and warmth is so different from what we grew up with. After our mother died, our father was drowning in grief and depression. He turned to booze, and walked out on us, leaving teenaged Timber to raise me and Tyrion. It's taken Alice years to soften Tim up around the edges, and I love her twist on the tattoo. "I think you're a bad-ass Mama Stag, Alice," I say, patting her leg. She winces as the needle starts to vibrate, but she grits her teeth and smiles at me. "Emma, you sticking around?"

  She nods as Juniper clings to her arm. "I've got to talk this one out of leaving," Emma says. "Honestly, I don't know how someone could train hard enough to win an Olympic medal at rowing, but feel scared of a tiny little needle."

  Juniper glares at Emma. "
You don't get to make these comparisons until you're facing that giant needle gun yourself, madam!"

  I make eyes with the tattoo artist--he's done at least 6 of my tats--and wink. "Listen, Em, how about I go for a walk and leave you to your meeting. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, and I'm sure both Juniper and Alice will be long done by then. Want me to bring you anything?"

  She grins and asks me to pick something at the bakery to surprise her. I wish I'd thought to offer that. I kiss her forehead and fist bump Cody on my way out. Turns out he's still fully committed to his neck tattoo.

  I decide to get a box of macarons for everyone, wondering again why I hadn’t thought to offer. My brothers seem to fall into family life so naturally. Once they fell for their women, that was it. They were all in. I always need to be reminded how to open up to Emma, trust her. Moving in with her was a big gesture for me. Knowing she didn’t get the tattoo today makes me worry it wasn’t enough.

  Alice and Juniper are fully clothed and inked when I deliver the treats. Emma seems a little off, so I usher her out to the truck. "Ready to go home, babe?" She shakes her head.

  "Can you take me back to work? I want to push through something I'm revising."

  "You sure? It's really fucking cold out there. Why not write from home and let me warm you up?" I'm still worked up at the mental image of Emma getting a tattoo and, frankly, I can't wait to get close to her skin, inky or not.

  I slide a hand up her thigh, but feel her stiffen. Hm, not good. I withdraw my hand and look at her. "What's wrong?"

  She huffs. Shit. What did I do? "You asked me if I'm getting the STAG FAMILY tattoo. But I'm not a Stag, am I, Thatcher?"

  "Of course you are, Chezz. What are you talking about?"

  She shakes her head. "I'm not. I'm not a Stag. I'm your live-in girlfriend."

  “Shit, Emma. You know you mean everything to me. I’m trying really hard here.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I think I’m convenient for you, is what I am.”

  “How can you say that? I moved my whole studio so I could be with you. So I could be supportive of your job.”

  “Am I supposed to be grateful of your sacrifice?” Her eyes flare and she looks really angry.

  I rake my fingers through my long hair again. I guess my suspicions were right, but I didn’t know Emma was this upset about the direction of our relationship. “I want to make a life with you, Emma. I want you to want the Stag family tattoo.”

  Emma starts crying then, and I know things are worse than I thought. “Why didn’t you talk to me before you were this upset?”

  “I didn’t know I was this upset until everyone else was getting the Stag brand and I felt left out.”

  “Should I go back and ask Jason to ink you up real quick?” Emma snorts at that suggestion. I seize upon this tiny gesture and press on. “Or do you want me to tattoo your name on my ass? I would, you know, Chezz.”

  I slam the truck into first gear outside our building and yank on the e-brake. I look over at Emma, ready to keep hashing this out, but she's gone grey and clammy. "Emma?" She reaches out a hand and squeezes my arm, but her body goes stiff and her muscles begin to twitch. "Emma!"

  She's having a seizure. Shit, shit, shit. I can't remember what to do. It's been awhile since we talked through this possibility.

  Her body slumps over and stills. I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab her phone from her coat pocket. Unlocking it, I dial up her neurologist and try to suppress my panic.

  2

  TY

  Coach blows the whistle and we all sink to the ice, exhausted. He's been riding us so hard this season. We haven't won the Cup since the first year I was on the Fury, but we got to the semifinals last year. Coach can smell the silver polish on that big ass bowl, and so can every guy out here. But fuck, I'm tired. “That’s it for today, men,” he bellows. “You know what I’m asking Santa for this year, and you’re the little elves who’re gonna bring it to me.” I don’t even have the energy left to even cuss at him.

  I pull myself up and limp to the locker room. I can't wait to get home, so I skip the showers. I want to yank my wife into the tub with me and wrap her long legs around my ribs until they don't hurt anymore. I almost fumble the keys, I'm so eager to get inside, but when I get home, our place is dark and quiet. Shit. Did I forget? I swear Juniper was going to be home after I got out from practice this week.

  My wife was a partner in my brother's law firm, but now she's running for judge. I'm proud as fuck that she's trying to get elected, but between my pro hockey schedule and her campaign events, I hardly see her. I flick on the lights and see a note in the kitchen. Ran into the office to wrap up a case file. Be home by 9. I'm sorry!!! --JJ

  Fuck. I'm sweaty and horny and my wife is at work. I grab a peach from the counter, but as I'm eating it all I can think about is tonguing Juniper. I nestle into the couch and call her up on video chat.

  "Ty! I'm so sorry!" She seems flustered. Her hair is a bit of a mess and I see her wince as she leans to grab a file. "How was practice?"

  "Coach is trying to kill us."

  She scoffs, still not looking up, and says, "Or maybe you let yourself get soft, easing up on conditioning in the off season." I fucking love it when Juniper challenges me. She won a damn Olympic gold medal in rowing and she’s fit as fuck. We train together whenever we can and living with another athlete makes it so much easier for me to stick with my training and my diet. I toss the peach aside, though, because I don’t want health food right now.

  I love looking at my wife in work mode, wearing her power suit. I reach into the waist of my mesh shorts and give my dick a tug. She looks up briefly and squints, looking at our condo. "We need to talk about getting the housekeeper to come more often."

  Juniper starts talking about how shit is falling apart at home--she's right. We have laundry everywhere--but I mostly stare at her lips and stroke myself a little harder. "Babe, angle the monitor down a bit."

  She raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" I grunt. "Ty, are you jerking off right now?" She can holler at me all she wants if she's going to pull her shoulders back like that. Her tits are centered in the screen of my phone, moving up and down a little as she starts yelling at me. But then she tilts the screen so I can see her face.

  "I wanted to fuck you so bad after practice, Junebug." She licks her lips. "Take off your suit jacket and let me see your blouse."

  Juniper looks over her shoulder. She stands up and walks off screen, and I hear her closing her office door. Hell yeah! It's on.

  She walks back over to her desk and leans forward. The laptop camera is lined up with the neck of her blouse and I can see her bra a little bit as she says, "You're telling me you're so fucking horny you couldn't wait a few more hours for this?"

  I groan, imagining how good it feels when she lets me slide my cock in between her tits. "Fuck, Juniper. I need you so much." She disappears from the screen and I sit up, but I start stroking again when I see that she's settled back in her desk chair with her legs spread open. She hikes up her pencil skirt slowly, teasing me, and I start sweating when I catch a glimpse of her silk panties.

  "What would you do to these if you were here right now, Ty?" She drums her fingers on her thighs and I want to dive through the screen and push her hand aside.

  "I'd bury my face right in your beautiful pussy, baby. I'd lick you until you scream my name." I grunt, feeling the build up of pleasure as I fist my own cock, remembering how good it feels to make my wife cum with my tongue.

  Juniper's fingers are flying around her clit now. I can see the shine of her wedding ring catch the light as she moves her hand around. She's mine, I think, picking up speed. "Tell me more, Ty," she pants, dropping one hand to rub her nipple as she keeps strumming her needy bud.

  "Oh, god, baby, I want to sink inside you. I want to bury my cock to the root and wrap those long legs of yours around my back. I want to move with you until we both forget our names. Fuck!" I'm so close.

  "Oo
ooooh, yes, Tyrion. I love it when you fuck me. Shit, Ty. Yes!” She pants and her hand stops. "I just came, babe. Are you close?" She leans forward again and I can see a fine sheen of sweat on her skin. Her face is flushed with pleasure and she's breathing heavy. "I want to see, Ty. I want to see you cum."

  Who could say no to that? "Aahhh!" I shout as I cum, white hot spunk spraying my fist. I'm gasping for breath. I slump back in the chair, waiting for my eyes to roll back into their sockets properly. "Juniper, you blow my mind, baby. I love you so much."

  I see an incoming call from my brother Thatcher, but I click decline. I'm busy with my wife, here.

  Juniper smiles and tucks her loose hair behind her ear. She straightens up in her chair, winces again, and starts to gather up her files. What’s with the wincing, I wonder, tucking my junk back in my shorts. "I love you, too, babe. How about you let me get back to this and we can go for it in person in a few hours?" How can she just shift gears so quickly? That’s what I love about her—Juniper is just good at everything.

  Thatcher calls again. Jesus, will nobody let me talk to my damn wife? "Junebug," I sigh. "I gotta go. Thatcher keeps calling. Hurry home to me?"

  She nods, but I can see she's already back in her work. She's trying to wrap everything up there at the firm. I know she's trying not to get too confident, but Juniper is going to win this election. Everyone can see it. I hang up and decide to finally shower before I call my brother back. I'm even more of a mess than I was right after practice.

  I think about how I can clean this place up a little bit before Juniper gets home--there's a 24 hour dry cleaner not too far away and I can at least drop off all our laundry--and, brother forgotten, I climb into a steaming shower with a plan.

  3

  TIM

  The office is too quiet today. My wife packed up our son from the on-site daycare and took him home a few hours earlier. Said she had some outside business to attend to, whatever that means. I frown in the direction of my office door, thinking about how a few years ago, I hated any form of disruption here at work. This place was cut-throat, but ever since Alice and Juniper came along, our culture has changed as much as our client base. Hell, I just signed a damn approval for a holiday party at the indoor trampoline park.