House of Payne: Sage

by Stacy Gail

  “That’s been my experience with the House, and I’ve been working there for years. I think you know me well enough by now to realize I’d never put up with anyone stealing my art and calling it their own. None of the tattooists at the House would.”

  She nodded. She’d had that same thought. “Not to mention there’s no need for a talented artist like Payne to steal other people’s art. Did you see how easily he churned out caricature portraits at the hospital yesterday? He was like a machine, with each portrait being better than the last.”

  “Your sister noticed that, too.”

  That had her brows arching. “She actually mentioned it to you?”

  He nodded. “Which goes to show you how stunned she was by the display. Up until yesterday, I don’t think Serena had ever even considered the possibility that Payne might be an honest-to-God artist. Your dad’s probably brainwashed her into thinking Payne’s a talentless thief, so I suspect she was borderline freaked over how good he was.”

  “Brainwashed?” she repeated, affronted. “She’s not brainwashed, and neither am I.”

  “All I know is what I see, Skittish. And the picture I’m seeing is that your old man’s a self-pitying sore loser who lied about having his work stolen from him so he could play the victim, instead of facing up to the fact that he just wasn’t good enough for Payne. Maybe I’m wrong, but I doubt it.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.” And damn it, part of her didn’t think he was wrong, either.

  “Like I said, I can only go by what I see. You might think about doing the same.”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing ever since I got to the House.” As he parked next to her car and cut the engine, she slid out of the jeep and joined him on the path leading to her front door. “But the fact is, my father has been talking about how Payne ripped him off from the time I was nine. It’s not like he knew I’d one day work for the man, so why would he say such a thing?”

  “Maybe what you said about your old man holding grudges is true, and he’s holding the world’s biggest grudge when it comes to Payne.”

  “That wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” she muttered, digging out her keys. “In fact, I’m sure that’s the case. But that still doesn’t explain why he would lie about Payne stealing from him.”

  “It could be that over the years your dad’s resentment has twisted his view of what actually happened to the point where he feels like he’s some victim on the level of a Greek tragedy. Maybe he needs to believe Payne dumped him not because he’s just a third-rate tattooist, but because Payne stole shit from him.”

  “He’s not third-rate,” she defended automatically, then sighed. Even though her father thought she was the world’s worst daughter, she still couldn’t help her loyalty to him. “What I mean is, when my dad is in the mood to create, he really can be a talented artist. He just, um… hasn’t been in a creative mood in, like, a decade.”

  “Uh-huh.” Looking like he’d love to explain just how third-rate that attitude was, he instead shook his head and followed her into the townhome. “The only thing we know for certain is that Payne left your old man in the dust when he opened up House Of Payne. There’s got to be a reason why Payne did that, Daniels, because he’s known for hiring the best and brightest tattooists the world has to offer.”

  Which obviously wasn’t her father. He didn’t have to say it out loud. Not when the words were ringing in her ears.

  Sage, on the other hand, was an amazing artist, and that had to be why his words were getting through to her better than even her own personal doubts. Why else did it feel like everything he said reshaped her worldview, while at the same time gave her a support she hadn’t even known she needed?

  It had to be because she respected him as an artist. An amazing, gifted, seriously hot artist.

  Emphasis on hot.

  And lucky for her, he seemed to think she wasn’t half-bad either, if that wonderful caricature he’d done of her was any indication.

  “Oh, my portrait.” She executed a hasty U-turn toward the front door. “I left it in the glove compartment. I’ll be right—”

  “It’s not going anywhere.” An arm wrapped around her before she could take more than a couple steps. “I’ll be sure to get it to you before I take off.”

  That brought her eyes to his. “You’re not taking off now?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  Talk about a conversation stopper. “I… haven’t given it any thought.”

  “So think about it. You want me to leave, Skittish?”

  The mere thought left her colder than the temp outside. “No. And I sure as hell don’t want you to leave with my portrait. I’m going to have it framed.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he promised absently and lowered his mouth to hers.

  It was shocking, how his kiss was like coming home.

  On a soft moan, she turned into his embrace, her arms winding around his neck like she’d been waiting all night to hold onto him.

  Maybe she had.

  And maybe that was why every cell in her body seemed to sigh in relief now that she finally had him in her arms.

  “You need to know I’m going to make a fucking meal of you.” In between hot, delving kisses he shoved her jacket aside, then shrugged out of his own. Both fell to the floor, unnoticed. “I’m going to go nice and slow so I can savor every sweet inch of you.”

  Excitement shivered along her every nerve until she could hardly breathe. “You and that sweet tooth of yours.”

  “Hell, yeah, that sweet tooth of mine. It's been throbbing to get its fill of you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” As he spoke, he worked on the buttons of her blouse, stripped it from her, then walked her backwards toward the hallway that led deeper into the townhouse. Her legs were trembling so fiercely with the force of her desire, it was a wonder she didn’t fall down. “That was one hell of a memorable day.”

  “Was it?” Far more interested in guiding him to her bedroom, she barely paid attention to the conversation. Who the hell made casual conversation at a time like this? “As I recall, Scout introduced me to you and everyone else while on a tour of the House. I wouldn’t call that memorable.”

  “That was the first time you saw me, but it wasn’t the first time I saw you.”

  That shocked her enough to raise her eyes to his, and the lustful heat she found in his heavy-lidded gaze made the slick folds between her legs ache and swell with need. “When did you first see me?”

  “InkCon, before Payne discovered you.”

  She was so surprised she almost forgot that she needed to get him the hell out of his pants. “Really?”

  He nodded before he worked at undoing her skirt. “You were doing a live tat session at your old employer’s booth. The girl couldn’t stop gushing about how she couldn’t believe her luck at getting a tat sesh with you, her favorite tattooist.”

  To her delight, the suede skirt fell away. “I still don’t remember…”

  “The tattoo was in the shape of a palm frond, and within that shape was a tropical rainforest scene, with flowers and birds and rainbows and shit. Crazy vivid coloring, and not one speck of black to outline anything. I remember looking at that tat on the screen overhead, then looking at your downbent head and the curve of your neck. I got so fucking hard watching you work. Swear to Christ, I’ve never wanted to lick a woman’s neck more in my life. Then some shitheel started heckling you.”

  “I do remember that part.” There, she thought on a surge of relief as his belt and fastenings finally gave way. Now to get to the good stuff. “That guy had a real mouth on him, until someone grabbed him by his greasy ponytail and dragged his sorry ass away.”

  “You're welcome.”

  A gasp ripped through her in tandem with the shock. “No.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was you?”

  He nodded, grinning. “You are pure trouble, Skittish, from the top of your gorgeous head to the dainty tips of your toes. Someone as br
illiant as you is always going to make waves. That’s just the way it is with brilliant people. Either you’ve got jealous assholes trying to tear you down, or you’ve got people like Payne upending your life to capture that talent for themselves. There’s never going to be any peace for you unless you fight for it, or you have someone by your side who’s happy to do that fighting for you.”

  “I can fight for myself.” At last she slid her hands beneath his loosened pants and boxer-briefs to greedily cup his rounded butt cheeks in her hands. Ahh, magnificent. “Because in reality, I’m not skittish at all.”

  “Thank fuck,” he muttered before capturing her mouth again.

  The time for talking had passed, she knew that as surely as if he’d given her official notice. Now was the time for feeling, of giving each other the greatest pleasure either of them had ever known. She managed to unzip her boots while still keeping her mouth on his, a feat that should have earned her a medal. Once she kicked them off she tackled his button-down shirt, practically ripping it off him only to stop and stare in mouth-watering hunger at the sculpted torso she’d revealed.

  Thank God he liked to hit the gym.

  Colorful tattoos flared across the expanse of his chest in a Southwestern desert canyon motif. The colors were intense, vividly depicting a sunset that could only be found in the west, from pale yellow and salmon, to deep indigo and violet. A fierce-looking eagle glared from one shoulder, and a coyote from the other, with snakes wrapping down both his arms to his wrists. The work was beautiful, definitely his, and with a sense of wonder she gently stroked her fingers over the canyon across his magnificent, muscle-sculpted chest.

  “Beautiful,” she whispered, not sure if she meant his ink or his body. All she knew was that he was the truest definition of beauty she had ever seen.

  And, if only for that moment, he was all hers.

  Yay.

  He pushed her gently back onto the bed, pausing just long enough to snag his wallet out of his back pocket. Then he kicked off the remainder of this clothes, planted a knee on the mattress and positioned himself between her legs so he could lean over her, his eyes telling her without words he couldn’t get enough of what he was seeing.

  “You’re overdressed,” he said, and the sound of it was like the purr of a large, hungry animal intent on devouring her. She shivered, mainly because she couldn’t do anything else, and torqued her arm behind her to unhook her bra while she kept her eyes on the heated hunger of his.

  “Better?” she whispered with the lacy material still veiling her, smiling because she knew the answer.

  “Not even close.” The bra was whisked away and landed somewhere in the room. She didn’t see where exactly, and she didn’t care. All that mattered was that it was gone, and her breasts were now fully exposed to his ravenous gaze.

  And his hands.

  And his mouth.

  Oh, God.

  Much to her delight, he didn’t keep her waiting. A rough sound escaped him as he captured that sensitive, rounded flesh in his hot hands and squeezed with savage care, the arrogant possession of claiming new territory communicating itself to her through every nerve ending he touched. Though she’d always been on the lanky side and had no butt to speak of, she’d always thought her breasts weren’t half bad. To see his delight and hear the shallowing of his breathing as he bent to taste her was more addictive than any drug.

  He wanted her. Wanted her, like no one had ever wanted her before. This beautiful, powerful man—a man who could have a harem of women falling at his feet—wanted her.

  How did she get to be so lucky?

  “Still overdressed,” he breathed against her skin, before his tongue cruised over one of her nipples, making her gasp. Then he took it into his mouth and sucked hard enough to make her back arch and wetness bloom between her legs.

  Dear God, she was so close already, yet they’d only just begun.

  “I want you.” The words babbled out of her without conscious thought, her eyes semi-closed as desire burned through her like a fever. Her hips rolled against his nakedness, and she thrilled at the hot, blood-darkened length of his granite-hard cock rubbing against her pelvis.

  “Holy fucking… shit.” The words gritted out through the barrier of his clenched teeth, and a second later he half-rolled away from her, one hand pressing imperiously down on her stomach to keep her motionless. “Do that again, and I’ll fucking come all over you. As of now, you will hold still while I focus on not losing my shit.”

  “Sage—”

  “Not open for debate, Daniels. Say you understand me, or I’m out.”

  “I understand,” she whispered, weirdly turned on by his authoritative tone. “Holding still, though… Does that mean you don’t want me to get out of my panties? Because they’re getting uncomfortably wet.”

  “Jesus.” His eyes squeezed shut a moment before he opened his wallet and plucked out a condom packet. “Get those damn panties off, woman, and open your legs. It’s time I take my rightful place.”

  If she hadn’t been panting in her excitement, she would have squealed in excitement.

  As she slipped her last bit of clothing off, Sage rolled the condom into place. She watched him avidly, only vaguely aware that he did the same with her. He was so much more than she’d imagined, she marveled, her attention locked onto his stiff flesh rising from a dark nest of hair. The mere sight of that cock had her knees falling wide apart, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for him.

  “I said hold still.” Deftly he caught her seeking hands, dodging her even though his taut expression told her it just about killed him to do so. Bringing her hands to his mouth, he kissed first one palm, then the other, before deliberately setting her hands above her head and sliding down her body. The flesh-against-flesh friction was electric, a symphony of sensation that only naked bodies could create. “I told you, I’m on the edge. You’re nowhere close to that point, and I don’t want to come alone. You’re going to lose your fucking mind right along with me, so prepare yourself, Skittish. I won’t be happy until you’re screaming so much your neighbors will think you’re being murdered.”

  That sounded more than fair to her, and she had a thought to tell him as much. That thought evaporated like smoke in high wind when his mouth once again claimed a breast, while he delved a hand down her belly and into the cleft between her legs.

  Oh, boy.

  Her intimate folds, swollen with a throbbing need, were already hypersensitive when his fingers drew boldly along her channel. She couldn’t help but cry out when his touch dragged along her clit, bringing slick wetness along with his knowing touch.

  Oh, God.

  God.

  If just a single touch could make her leg muscles spasm and her body writhe, this was going to be one hell of a ride.

  “That’s it.” The delight in the words that breathed out of him rang through her until his voice was all she heard. He teased one nipple with his tongue before sucking on the other one, not stopping until she arched mindlessly. “You react like that, and fingerbanging you is going to become my favorite pastime.”

  “Mine, too,” she managed, then gasped and cried out once more when his clever fingers again dragged across that hard cluster of nerves before he bore down, circling and massaging it until she writhed with the crushing anguish of pleasure.

  “Oh… Sage. Sage.” It was like he’d been born knowing exactly where her most sensitive points were, because he knew just how to bring out the most exquisite pleasure from her body. “God. I can’t stop it. Sage.”

  “You do light up fast, don’t you? I fucking love that.” He didn’t relent, his hand working her cleft until she was twisting in helpless, excruciating pleasure, while his other hand guided his cock to her threshold. “Come for me, Mads. Cover my cock with it.”

  He plunged into her tight depths just as his words pushed her over the edge. Shattered cries escaped her as his thick cock stretched her internal walls, filling not just her emptiness, but eve
ry part of her mind and soul. Glorious sensation blazed through her with such intensity it burned away any thought that didn’t have to do with him, until he was the only thing in her universe.

  That was what he gave her. A universe of heat and hunger and never-ending pleasure.

  When he was inside her, he was her universe.

  All she wanted to do was give even a small part of that sensation back to him.

  Just as that thought crossed her mind, his eyes squeezed shut and his head flung back. The groan of completion that roared from him was so erotic, so damn sexy, she came again, a sharp spike of pleasure that caught her by surprise. Her cries mingled with his as her hips pumped hard, pushing on pure instinct to wring every last drop of ecstasy she could from this beautiful merging.

  “Fuck.” Satisfaction filled his expression as he thrust into her one final time, a wondrous sight to see, before he collapsed and buried his face in her neck. “Fuck.”

  “That’s what it’s called.” With the echoes of pleasure rippling through her nervous system, it took most of her concentration to even be coherent. “You’re good at it. Like, really good.”

  “Back atcha.” The lazy press of his lips against her throat made her eyes drift close. “This was just a warm-up, though. Give me a few minutes and I’ll show you how good I really am.”

  Wow. “Are you sure we’d survive such a thing?”

  “I have faith in us.”

  “If I’d known tonight was going to end up like this, I wouldn’t have dreaded going to that family dinner so much.” She couldn’t help but smile up at the ceiling as a sweet sense of peace settled over her. “This was way better than hanging around for dessert.”