Chapter 31
SAGE
The next morning, I arrive at the café twenty minutes early. My curiosity is humming at what this federal agent needs to tell me. I haven’t mentioned anything to Saxon and Saint about my meeting, but now that I am here alone, I feel like I should have brought someone. The bell on the front door rings, and I can feel the ominous presence of Dante before I even look up from my coffee.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Dante says, pulling out his chair and taking a seat opposite of me.
“What do you have to tell me?” I get right to the point. One, because I hadn’t told anyone where I was going and two, I am dying to know what the hell is going on. He waves to the waiter and orders a black coffee before settling his eyes on me.
“Sage, the reason I was at the club that night we met was because I knew you’d be there.” I furrow my eyebrows. Was he following me?
“For the past seven years, I’ve been assigned to your father’s case in hopes of taking down the higher-ups in this town who think since they have power, they can do whatever the hell they want.”
“Are you talking about the mayor?” The look of shock that Dante gives me tells me he didn’t think I knew about my father’s affair. Hell, I hadn’t known until last night.
“Frankie told me.” He closes his eyes for a long while before continuing. He leans closer towards me, and his voice is a mere whisper.
“I wanted to meet with you to inform you that I have been watching you and your brother since the fire, due to many tips that your lives may be in danger as well. The moment Frankie was informed that the pair of you may be targeted next, he stopped all communication with me. I thought that was suspicious on its own because why would he not want to be involved in figuring out this whole mess with your family.”
The look on my face must show the same confusion because I can’t find the words to ask or explain or even speak, for that matter. So much information is being thrown at me so fast, from last night to now. I can’t believe this is my own life and not a movie plot.
“Why did you make yourself known now, after all these years?” I ask. Why target me in the club, or invite me to the art show, or paint a fucking picture of me to showcase at the exhibit? Why now?
“Your uncle had been radio silent for the last six years, but recently, with the help of Damien before his untimely demise…” I look away from him for the quickest moment, unable to hold his gaze. “He informed me that a man he was in contact with wanted him to accompany him on a job that would involve a very high-up motorcycle club. Initially, he didn’t want to do it. He said it felt like a suicide mission, but I encouraged him to move forward. That way, when I made contact with you, it didn’t look too su spicious.” Dante pauses for a moment, taking a long sip of his coffee. His eyes are heavy and dark shadows appear below his eyes. He is tired and rundown by the looks of it. I’d just seen him last night, yet he looks like he aged ten years over night.
“What I’m getting at is, your uncle is finally coming out of the wood works after six years of no activity, and the first thing I hear of is a job that would end the biggest motorcycle club’s existence by eliminating you and your brother. I took drastic action and inserted myself into your life as quickly as I could, hoping that your uncle would fear that if I was around, you and Saxon couldn’t be touched. We were still working behind the scenes and hoping to get more answers on this job that Damien had coming up, but then he disappeared, and I no longer had my connection.”
I inhale a deep breath, not understanding. If this is all true, why does my uncle want to hurt or eliminate me and Saxon? We’re family. I silently curse my brother and Saint for killing Damien. “What do I do now?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
“Don’t do or say anything, Sage. I will continue to be in contact with you when I know more information. In the meantime, stay with your brother and Saint. I know they can protect you, even though their ways are less than legal. They can keep you safe. I’ll message you soon.” With that, he leaves me sitting in the café, alone and more confused than I’ve ever been. I need a nap.
I can’t sleep after learning everything about Frankie from my secret meet up with Dante. My chest hurt with thoughts that my father was keeping secrets from Saxon and me. My father told us everything, or at least, I thought he did. Knowing that he was having a secret relationship with a married woman feels like a betrayal. Not that my father didn’t deserve love or a companion, but with a married woman—the fucking mayor’s wife, of all people?
Love is funny. You can’t pick who your heart will love, but it’s dangerous when it could be someone who is already spoken for. Love is painful, yet peaceful, dangerous, yet fearless. Did my father know the dangers of falling in love with Gloria? Probably. Why else would he have kept such a secret? Love can be our most desired and most troubling emotion, yet it’s still something we all crave and want more than anything. At least, I do.
The longer I sit in the library thinking about it, the more I realize my father and I are not so different. He fell for a woman who was spoken for—unavailable. And here I am, falling for someone I know would cause problems between my brother and me. Still, I can’t get the image of Saint out of my head. The feeling of his calloused hands against my skin. The taste of his kiss. The presence of him in the room, a dark shadowy pressure, squeezing against my skin and igniting the dormant butterflies in my stomach. I crave his scent, his voice, his touch—fuck—I want him to tell me I am his good girl. I’ve never had a kink for something like praise, but when Saint says them, it makes me feral for him.
“May I come in?” I startle and drop my copy of Romeo and Juliet . I fumble for my book where it now lies face down on the floor.
“Yes, of course,” I say as I lean over and retrieve my book. A sudden dark, palpable weight follows behind him as he enters the room, and it presses against my lungs. Suddenly, it’s too hot in here. I need to take my blanket off my lap. I watch as he walks into the library, freshly showered, as was I, and the scent of clean soap fills my nose. Crossing the room, he takes the chair across from me, spreading his legs wide and placing his hands on the arms of the chair before asking me, “What are you reading?” I look down at my book. Why, I’m not sure. I know what I’m reading.
“ Romeo and Juliet .” My voice comes out a little shaky, and I can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed.
“Ah, a forbidden romance. Sadly, it ends in tragedy, am I right?” Saint never reads; I am taken aback at how he knows. “Is that one of your favorites? By Shakespeare, I mean.”
“I think it is.” My voice is small as I turn the book over in my hand again and again. I’ve never thought about it before, but I guess I do gravitate towards this specific love story. We both fall silent, the grandfather clock in the corner the only noise breaking the painful silence. I finally look up at Saint, his silvery eyes burning into my skin. His hair is still a bit wet, and his lips are slightly parted. He is shirtless, and maybe this is what is making me feel off balance because all I want to do is run my hands down his chest and follow the trail of hair that dips below his sweatpants. Now that I know what’s beneath the clothing, I want more of it. I’ve begun to crave it.
“Do you like what you see, baby?” His voice is sultry and caresses me like velvet.
“I think I do.” Where the hell did that come from, Sage? I swallow, the room suddenly feeling so small.
“You think ?”
“Maybe I need to see more to make up my mind completely.” The smile that pulls the corner of his mouth up has my heart racing and core throbbing. But when he licks his bottom lip, I crumble.
“Is Saxon back yet?” I pray he isn’t, as bad as that sounds, but all my body wants right now is Saint. His only response is a shake of his head.
“He went to Sky’s, so that means it’s just you and me tonight.” Just what I want.
“So, what do you have in mind?” I’m playing with him; it’s evident by the devilish smile he keeps giving me. I need more.
“I have a few things I could think of, however, all my ideas require you to be a lot less clothed.” Now it’s my turn to smile. I stand from my chair, the rest of the blanket collecting at my feet. Grabbing the hem of my tank top, I pull it over my head, baring my chest to him, as I toss my shirt to the side.
“Like this?” I say in a small voice.
“A bit more, sweetheart.” His eyes remain on mine, not once breaking contact. I thread my fingers through my shorts and pull them down my legs, leaving only a small piece of fabric to cover my most intimate parts.
“How about now?” I ask again as I squeeze and massage both my breasts. A guttural growl escapes his mouth as his eyes continue holding mine.
“You’re getting warmer.” With that, I remove my panties, my final piece of clothing, and stand completely exposed to him.
“That’s my good girl. Already so wet for me.” He’s right. I can feel the slickness of my arousal against my thighs, and I can’t prevent my face from heating at his discovery. Standing from his chair, he takes one step towards me. The heat from his body coats my skin, causing my nipples to harden instantly. A prominent bulge in his sweats shows just how ready he is for me, and I can’t help the small sigh that falls through my lips. Lifting his hands, he cups my face, his thumb parting my lips with a slow caress. My eyes closed at his touch, the feeling so light but so sensual at the same time.
“Look at me, Sage.” A soft whisper that touches my lips. His face is so close to mine I can taste his spearmint toothpaste on my tongue. “I want you to see who it is you belong to. So, tell me, Sage. Who owns you?” My breath hitches as I try to contain the swarm of butterflies beating and clawing their way around in my stomach. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, biting it just enough to bring me back down to earth.
“I belong to you.” My words are shaky as I try to breathe normally, but my attempt is futile.
“And who am I?” Our lips brush against each other, the warmth of his skin heating mine.
“Saint. I—I belong to you, Saint.” The force with which our lips collide is that of a lion finally catching its prey. Starving and unable to control himself when what he wanted most of all was right in front of him. I lay my hands flat against his abdomen, clawing my fingernails down every delicious dip and crevice of his muscles until I reach his waistband.
I pull away from his hold just long enough to pull his sweatpants down, freeing what I’ve been wanting this whole time. His impressive length is already fully erect as I coax Saint to sit down once again. He hesitates a moment, not wanting to relinquish control of the situation, but when I grasp his cock in my hand and start pumping ever so slowly, he gives in. Once he’s seated, I kneel between his open legs, pushing my hair back from my face and grabbing his length once again. While holding his stare, I spit onto his tip and start working my hands up and down, eliciting a groan from his chest. It only edges me on. The way I am able to pull his pleasure from him is addicting, and I want to give him more. I want to please him.
Letting him go, I place my hands on his abdomen before I lick my lips and dip my head forward. I stick out my tongue, playing with his tip as I watch his mouth part and his abs flex at the sensations I invoke. Then slowly, I take him down, inch by inch, until he is touching the back of my throat. I hum around his velvety smooth skin, his cock twitching in my mouth at the vibrations.
“ Fuuuck , that’s it. Choke on me.” His fingers thread through my hair, his grip tight as he pushes my head further down his length until I gag and tears begin to blur my vision. He holds me there for a moment, listening to me choke and watching my drool drip from the corners of my mouth. It’s filthy, and I love every bit of it.
He pulls out of me slowly, smiling at me with admiration.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” My stomach heats with his words. Something about the way he looks at me and feeds me compliments makes my chest swell. Our relationship, up until now, had always been insult after insult. A budding game of cat and mouse, where we thrived off badgering each other. I bullied him, he bullied me—it was how we got along. I looked forward to seeing him, just to see how far I could push his buttons. It was like our relationship was a playground crush, and for years, this is how we operated.
So how did we get here? Me on my knees, fully exposed to the man I never imagined falling for. The admiration in his eyes speaks volumes to me. The once playful, annoying bully is now holding me with a lover’s touch. Gentle and all-consuming in the way that I crave more and more until he occupies every ounce of my mind. Silvery eyes, calloused hands, a sensuous smile that makes my heart skip a beat. Every ounce of this man has slowly seeped out of the friend zone and entered a zone I am yet to identify. I willingly surrender to this man. He can have me, own me, destroy me in any way he sees fit. I am completely his. Is it because he sees me for me, flaws and all? Every scar, every dent in my exterior, yet he still calls me beautiful.
I’ve never needed a man to tell me I’m beautiful, but the way he makes me feel like I’m worthy. Worthy of love, worthy of affection and care, is more than any man has ever made me feel. I’m his equal. Rather, I am his queen he sets on a throne, where no one will ever hurt me. No one will ever allow me to feel anything but deserving. He makes me feel more like my previous self, the Sage before the fire. I’ve missed her.
“Come here, baby.” Saint grabs me and lifts me effortlessly into his lap. His hands slide up my sides and pull me to his face. With his mouth on my chest, he gives feather light kisses to each breast. Kissing, licking, and nipping his way back and forth; all the while, his hands are pressed firmly to my back, keeping me against his body. The ache between my legs is throbbing and in desperate need of some type of friction to help alleviate my own pleasure.
I rock back and forth against his cock, spreading my juices up and down his length, dying for more of him. His chest vibrates with desire as he lifts his hips to meet my core.
“Desperate, are we?” His voice is low, and it only intensifies the pressure building in my core. “Tell me what you want, baby.” I continue grinding against him, finding a rhythm and tilting my head back. I can’t respond. My mind is focusing on finding a release.
“Use your words, Sage.” Fuck, the way my name rolls off his tongue is so hypnotic.
“You. I want you inside me, please.” I’ve never begged a man before, but for Saint, I’d beg all fucking night if I had to. Call me pathetic, but I see it as being passionate. The moment the word “please” leaves my lips, Saint grabs my hips and lifts me off his lap, only to set me down gently, penetrating me with each delicious inch of his cock. He lowers me slowly, allowing my walls to stretch and accommodate his length. I can’t help the hiss and moans of satisfaction I let slip the moment I’m fully seated on his lap. My hands grip his shoulders as my fingers dig into his skin. Saint is big, and I don’t mean regular big. He’s the biggest man I’ve ever been with, both in length and thickness. It’s painful at first, but quickly transforms into a toe-curling pleasure that ignites in my stomach and builds with each thrust of his hips.
“Oh, fuck,” I whimper, the feeling of being impossibly full takes hold, and I’m an addict for more. I work my hips up and down. The sound of my wetness and our skin slapping fills the room in a chorus of filth and vulgarity.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my cock.” His words bring a whole new sense of confidence I’ve never had during sex. I’ve experimented, yes, but Saint makes me want to show him just how much of a dirty little whore I can be. As I continue to chase my release, Saint tilts his head back in euphoric bliss, allowing me to take control, and I’ve never felt so feminine, so desired, so powerful. His hands are gripping my ass hard enough to bruise, and I hope it does. I want him to mark me, to show that he is mine and I am his.
He slaps my ass so hard the sound cracks against the air. I welcome the sting and moan as he rubs the pain.
“Oh, fuck, Saint I’m going to—” I’m so close. I can feel my orgasm on the precipice, and I want it to crash through me and consume me in the best way. Our breathing grows heavy, but when Saint reaches in front of me and starts circling my clit with his thumb, I detonate. I moan through the most intense, mind-numbing orgasm that seems to last forever, and I never want it to stop. His hands grip my hips again as his thrusts grow thunderous and relenting. His hips lift and meet mine as the sound of our skin slapping picks up and fills the room. I’m still floating high on my orgasm when Saint finds his own release; his grunt and final thrust that reaches the perfect spot, have me spiraling into another orgasm. My skin is beading with sweat as warmth ignites once again, deep in my core, flooding every available ounce of my being.
Sex with Saint is almost like a dream—a fantasy, even. Men like this only exist in the romance books I read. Women write about men like this. Men who can bring us to an orgasm and suddenly another and another until we’re riding a roller coaster of pleasure and euphoric bliss we never thought possible. Saint brings me down from the clouds of contentment, pressing our foreheads together as we catch our breath.
“What are you doing to me?” A whisper against my lips draws me in until we devour one another again; our lips are gentle, warm, and filled with so many unspoken words it’s hard to decipher. I don’t answer the question because I don’t have a good answer. It’s not what I’m doing to him, but what exactly are we doing to each other, and how the hell do we plan to allow this thing to continue? The plan is blurry, and I start to feel like there was never a plan in the first place. We let the built-up, caged, and wild animals unleash until we collided against one another. And there’s no way of ever capturing them again. We had a taste and ate the forbidden apple. There’s no going back, and quite frankly, I don’t want to.