Page 30 of Red My Lips

I follow her past the front desk to the workstations. Two men and a woman lie on tattoo chairs while artists ink their skin with needles. Dane sits at a workstation in the far back corner, sketching at a desk.

“Welcome to the chapel.” Stevie gestures around with her arm. I’m not surprised by the amount of black in the interior design. With sleek black walls and expensive-looking equipment, the historic building adds an air of charm enhanced with modern fixtures. The stained glass windows that rise several stories to the cathedral ceilings are stunning showstoppers in the otherwise monochromatic interior, adding both color and light to the space.

My eyes catch on the images laid into the stained glass windows—an angel holding a bleeding heart in his hand, a woman in biblical garb weeping, a horse geared for battle—they’re beautiful. I can see why Gage kept them.

“I’m not built for church, so I hope this is as close as I get,” I scoff. Narrow wooden pews and organized religion are two things I have no interest in. Stevie laughs at that, nodding to two of the other tattoo artists. One is stocky and tan, with thick black hair styled in Viking braids. The other is bald, with tattoos covering his head up to his hairline and large green gauges in both ears.

“You’re definitely built for worship, Angel. I’d join you in the confessional any day,” the Viking says. I roll my eyes as he makes a show of checking me out. He’s not unattractive. In fact, he’s kinda hot, but looking at him does nothing for me. Stevie swings out her hand to roughly knock him upside the head.

“Shut up, Saint. Your pedo ‘stache is bad enough. No one wants to go into the booths with you.”

He reaches up to touch the little line of hair on his top lip before shooting an accusing look on the bald man tattooing a woman in the next chair over. “That’s it, I’m shaving this damn thing.”

The bald guy looks up from his work to shake his head. “Not unless you wanna pay up. You’ve got two more weeks, Nacho Libre.”

“Dammit,” Saint groans. “I’m never playing pool with you again, Orion.”

The bald guy—Orion, I assume—snorts at that.

“God, I can’t wait for Vanessa to come back from L.A. I’m so sick of these whiney little boys,” Stevie says, flashing me an apologetic look. Saint grins and opens his mouth, obviously about to say something else to me, but Stevie cuts him off before he gets the chance. “Seriously, Saint, don’t even bother. This is Jill.”

The silence that falls over the room is startling.

Needles stop, conversations halt—no one even breathes too heavily. I look around at all of them, my eyes narrowing in confusion. Saint looks at Stevie and gestures to me. “As in Jill Jill? Gage’s Jill?”

Stevie nods, crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied smile at how the man deflates. This time, when Saint’s eyes move over me, it’s with reverence. He nods a few times in understanding, “Ok, yeah, I get it.”

“It’s just Jill,” I state firmly. Irritation itches through me like a heat flash at the implication I’m something that belongs to Gage. I don’t belong to anyone, debt or no debt.

Speak of the Devil.

Like the mention of his name summoned him from the underworld, Gage strides into the chapel through the dark doorway in the back corner.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here,” his deep voice sends a thrill through me and makes my pussy throb. He’s wearing a black tank top that shows off his bulging tattooed biceps, strong forearms, and large, rough hands to perfection. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it as he looks me over from head to toe.

He’s way too hot for his own good. And mine.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, striding closer.

“I have an appointment to get a tattoo,” I say. “My first one.”

“You never forget your first.”

“It won’t be the first virginity I lose in a church.” It’s the truth. I’ve come full circle—though I didn’t come in that church when I was sixteen.

I’m sure there’s some irony in there somewhere.

“Tell me what you want.” Those words coming out of Gage’s mouth could bring any woman to her knees—but I’m here for a reason, and not even Gage and his wicked mouth will distract me.

At least not until later.

“I want a martini glass,” I say, hooking my thumb in the waistband of my mini skirt and pulling it down to show the expanse of skin above my pussy where my thigh meets my stomach. “Here.” I turn around and flip up the hem of my skirt to show my ass swallowing my thong. “Or maybe here, I haven’t decided.” All eyes are on me when I look over my shoulder. After they’ve all gotten a good look, I drop the fabric back into place and turn back around to face them.

“Come with me,” Gage says deeply, his eyes hungry to get started.

“Oh, I didn’t make myself clear. My appointment isn’t with you.” My eyes slide over to Dane, who now stands in the group. “You’ll take good care of me. Right, Dane?”

“Fuck yeah,” Dane mutters before clearing his throat. “I mean, yeah, I can do that for you.”

---