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  “What’s the consult?” she asked, eager to start working on the girl’s tattoo even though she knew she should get all the information first.

  “A friend of mine from while back. You’ll see. I think you’ll be intrigued.”

  Callie’s brow raised at that cryptic comment, then sucked back more of her chai. “Okay, then. Where do you want me to work?” Since she wasn’t a full time tattoo artist, she didn’t have a station of her own. She had her own kit and tools that she’s acquired over time, but unlike the others, she didn’t have a chair and area of her own. She bounced around from station to station, usually sharing space so she could learn and be watched over as she did so. It didn’t bother her since most people had to work that way when they first started and she honestly learned a lot from just having someone there to help her if needed.

  Austin looked up from Geoff’s arm. “Go take the empty one near Sloane. You should be done with what the girl wants by the time Morgan gets here.”

  Her body stiffened at the mention of an empty station. That was new.

  “Morgan?” she asked, trying to sound casual about what his other words meant.

  “My friend with the consult.” Austin grinned. “And yeah, Callie. Take the extra station. We cleared it out for you last night.”

  Callie froze, her eyes filling. “What?”

  Austin, cursed, then patted Geoff’s back. “Give me a sec.”

  “Sure thing. If you’re about do to what I think you’re about to do, then I’m glad I’m here to witness it.”

  Callie swallowed hard, her gaze going from Austin, to Geoff, to the empty station, then back to Austin. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re ready for your own space, hon,” Austin said softly. “You’ve been ready for awhile, but Maya and I wanted to be sure the shop was ready too. Since Tommy moved away when his wife got stationed in Texas last week, we’ve opened up a space. So it’s yours. We’ll talk business and what it all means when Maya gets back, but welcome to the family. You’re one of us.”

  Callie threw her arms around Austin’s neck, crying softly. “Oh thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Austin patted her back and set her down. “You’re good at what you do. So go work on the star for that girl over there and then we can work with Morgan together.”

  She nodded, a bit dazed, then kissed Austin on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Putting moves on my man?” Sierra teased as she walked in.

  Callie blushed then stepped back from Austin. “He just told me I get my own station, so I was just saying thanks. He’s all yours.”

  Sierra beamed and hugged her tight. Callie closed her eyes, letting her family in everything but blood celebrate with her. “I’m so proud of you.” She looked over at Austin. “Maya’s going to be pissed you didn’t wait for her.”

  Austin shrugged. “Whatever. I want Callie to work with Morgan and Maya isn’t here. She’ll get over it.”

  Callie winced. “I so don’t want to be here when you’re telling her that.”

  “Whatever,” Austin mumbled, his attention on his work.

  “It’s good to see you,” Callie said to Sierra.

  “You too, honey. I’m just stopping in to say hi on my way out to see another boutique in the area.”

  Callie raised a brow. “Problems?” Sierra owned Eden, a new boutique across the street. That’s how she and Austin had met.

  “Problems? Oh no. Not at all. I just like to know what the other shops are selling. It’s good to know your rivals.”

  Callie grinned. “Oh, good. Have fun and let me know how it goes.”

  “Will do and congratulations, honey.”

  “Thank you!” Callie bounced her way to the girl sitting in the waiting room, trying to act causal and totally failing. Whatever, she was a full-fledged tattoo artist now. With a station and everything. She could act perky and her age if she wanted.

  “Hi, I’m Callie and I’ll be your artist today.” Yay. “Come on over to my station and we’ll talk stars.” Her station. Yay again.

  The girl smiled at her. “I’m Jessica. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Callie led Jessica over to her new station and talked stars and placement. Austin was right; this would be a super easy first tattoo on her own. The girl wanted it on the inside of her wrist, no bigger than a fingernail. Plus she only wanted the outline and no fill.

  “Let me get my things and then we can get started,” Callie said then headed back to the office to get her kit.

  By the time she got everything ready and started sketching in front of Jessica, she was jazzed and ready to start inking. She stenciled the star on the girl’s wrist, got approval, and started tattooing. The buzz went straight to her bones and she grinned.

  God, she loved her job.

  Jessica didn’t flinch as Callie worked. It really depended on the person and location if someone was going to move around a lot during a session. This girl didn’t seem too bothered by the needle and Callie counted herself grateful. A perfect client and tattoo for her first job all on her own. Sure, she’d done tattoos before, but never on her own. Never in a station she could make hers. Austin, Sloane, Maya and the others would be there if she needed them, but right then, she was all on her own.

  And oh my, didn’t that sound amazing?

  By the time she finished up the paperwork and said goodbye to Jessica, Austin was already done with another consult after Geoff had left. Sloane was at his station, working on a leg piece that she’d want to get a look at later and they had a nice flow to the room. Not too busy, yet enough people to make her feel like she was in the right place.

  The hairs on the back of her neck tingled and she shivered. She turned toward the door and blinked once. Twice.

  The sexiest man she’d ever seen in her life stood in the doorway.

  No, stood wasn’t a good word, not with the way his presence filled the shop. Dear Lord, was she panting? His broad shoulders were encased in a suit that had to cost more than her rent, but she didn’t care about that. His thick chest tapered into a trim waist and strong thighs. Just the thought of those thighs made her clench her own. He had his hands fisted at his sides, and oh God, those hands. Large, thick, and they looked so out of place compared to his classy suit. It looked as if he actually used his hands rather than merely sitting behind a desk as his attire suggested.

  She let her gaze rake over his body and settle on his face. His attention was focused in front of him so she got his profile. He’d clenched his jaw, but damn, he looked amazing. He had to be in his late thirties or early forties. He had one of the expensive haircuts that made his dark brown strands look like they were perfectly manicured. With the way his hair had gone silver on his sideburns, it made him look even more dangerous.

  He might be older her than her, but her hormones didn’t care. No, they screamed ‘fuck yeah, let’s ride’. Her nipples tightened and she thanked God she’d worn a bra that morning. Talk about embarrassing if that was the first thing he’d see.

  He turned toward her and she sucked in a breath. Piercing blue eyes stared back at her, studying her like they would something they didn’t quite understand.

  Not something she was unfamiliar with.

  She wanted this man. Now. Later. More than once.

  “Morgan, glad you made it,” Austin said as he walked up to the man with the sexy eyes. He held out a hand and Morgan clasped it.

  “Thanks for sparing the time for me,” Morgan said, his voice low, gruff. So deep that it vibrated straight to her pussy.

  Damn. This was Morgan. The man Austin wanted her to ink. It wouldn’t do well for her to lust after him. Sure, Austin had ended up engaged to Sierra after a consult, but sleeping with clients wasn’t the best way to start a career.

  Her libido cursed at her and she pushed it aside. She’d just look from afar…even as she put her hands on him in a professional sense.

  “Callie.”

  She shook her head and
looked up at the men again. It seemed they’d been trying to get her attention and she’d been off in her own dirty thoughts.

  “Sorry, I was woolgathering.”

  Austin gave her a curious look then motioned for her to come over. “Morgan, this is Callie Masters. Callie, this is one of my old friends, Morgan McAllister. From what you said you wanted Morgan, I really think Callie is going to do a great job on your ink.”

  Morgan frowned. “Has she been tattooing long? I thought I’d come in and get you to work on me, not a new student.”

  Callie bit back the frustration at the fact he talked about her like she wasn’t even there. “I’m experienced, Mr. McAllister. Don’t worry, I won’t screw up your tattoo.”

  “Yeah, Morgan. She’s an amazing artist and exquisite with color. You’re going to be in good hands.”

  Morgan narrowed his eyes. “If you say so.”

  “He does,” Callie bit back. Normally she was a little more gracious when it came to clients. It wasn’t as if she’d been immune to people thinking she couldn’t cut it before. But he’d heated her up quickly then just as fast, cooled her down.

  She might want to fuck him, or at least might have wanted—past tense—but now she wanted to prove to him she was good enough. He was way too rigid for her and that ‘student’ comment told her he thought she was too young.

  Austin looked between the two of them then met her gaze. She nodded, telling him with her eyes that she could handle it. Later, when Morgan wasn’t there, she’d tell Austin how she felt. He seemed to understand, then took a step back.

  “Okay then. I’ll let the two of you work together.” He squeezed Morgan’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t put you into hands I didn’t trust with all my heart. Got me?”

  Morgan nodded, but didn’t lose the frown. Whatever, she’d prove to him—and herself—she could do this.

  She led him to her new station and gestured for him to sit down. He did so, but didn’t lose the suit jacket, that rigidness never leaving his body.

  “What is it you wanted?” she asked, trying to keep her voice warm. She wouldn’t let this guy rock her. She’d been through worse; she could do this.

  “A full back piece that goes down the back of my arms, but also is easily covered up in a suit.”

  Well damn. That was big. Really big.

  “What do you want it of?”

  He met her eyes. “A phoenix.”

  A symbol for rebirth. For change.

  She could do this. Her fingers itched to start sketching. Oh damn, she couldn’t wait to ink this on his body.

  She smiled then. “That’s something we can do, Mr. McAllister. Don’t you worry, you’re in good hands.”

  He raised a brow, but she didn’t blush. She’d give him the best tattoo of her life and then she’d let him walk away. Morgan McAllister and all his sexiness weren’t for her, but she’d show him what she could do with her ink.

  She was Callie Masters. Kickass tattoo artist.

  Chapter Two

  Morgan McAllister was going to hell. There could be no other result for his very, very impure thoughts. The desires running through his veins didn’t help things either. Dear God, he’d wanted to flip Callie over and pump into her until they were both panting and sweaty. He could practically feel her cunt gripping his cock, squeezing him until he shook in sweet agony.

  He’d wanted to tie her up, have her beg him to fuck her, then spank her for that dirty mouth of hers. He’d slide his cock in and out of her mouth, watching his length get wetter and wetter as he fucked her face.

  Jesus. That wasn’t going to happen.

  Now he had a hard-on and had to think past what he wanted to do with his little tattoo artist.

  His.

  Damn it, no. She wasn’t his. Not only was she someone who would be working with him on a tattoo—and, therefore, off limits—she had to be a good fifteen years or more younger than him. He would be cradle robbing at that point. There were only so many ‘dirty old man’ taunts he could take. Sure, he was only forty, but hell, that was too damn old to be having such thoughts about the girl who worked for Austin.

  While he’d been in the shop, he held back his tongue so he wouldn’t ask his friend the important questions.

  How old was she?

  Was she single?

  Did he know if she liked to be tied up?

  And the question only she could answer: Would she kneel at his feet, and wait for his command?

  Well, that last one he had a feeling was a steady yes. She had that spark in her eyes that spoke of defiance when he’d spoken about her as if she hadn’t been in the room, but she was also a submissive. Something about her made him want to grasp the back of her neck and watch her relax, watch her shoulders fall as she came to him willingly.

  She was short in stature, slender, and she would fit perfectly against his side. Her hair was a reddish color with black stripes, or maybe it had been the other way around. Either way, it looked like a hairstyle some punk kid would wear, but it suited her perfectly. She’d straightened it so it fell around her face and down her shoulders. He could easily see it brushing his chest as she bent over him, taking his cock deep inside her cunt.

  Her breasts would easily fit in his hands. They looked like they were tight and firm, high, and sufficiently plump. Her nipples had pressed through her bra just enough that he could see the outline of those suckable berries. He wanted to nip at them, put them in clamps, and suck around her tits until she came hard on his hand. His three or four fingers would fuck her hard and find her G-spot so she would fill his palm with her orgasm. He wanted her on her knees in front of him so she could take him in her mouth.

  He wanted to cherish her.

  His cock throbbed, and he knew that if he didn’t do something fast, he’d blow like some teenage newbie, rather than the forty-year-old Dom he was. Morgan groaned in frustration and gripped the edge of his desk so he wouldn’t come right there, just thinking about Callie and her sexy-as-hell body.

  He inhaled slow and deep, then exhaled slowly, trying to push thoughts of Callie and her submissive qualities out of his mind. It wasn’t as if anything could happen. Not only did he know she wasn’t the right person for him, but he’d made sure she’d never have him. He’d been a complete asshole to her the day before and he knew it. It had been all about self-preservation. If he hadn’t tried to push her away while acting like she was nothing but a mere presence in his life, he’d have done something stupid like throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to his house.

  Callie Masters was officially turning him into a fucking caveman. All he needed was a club in one hand while he dragged her around by a fistful of hair in the other.

  Nope. He needed to stop thinking about fisting anything.

  He’d never reacted so quickly, or with such intensity to another person like that before. He’d been almost unable to control himself; as a man who valued control above all else, that scared the shit out of him. Morgan needed to put up boundaries immediately to protect them both.

  Now, because Austin put him in this position, he’d have to face the torture of Callie’s hands on his body for hours at a time until his tattoo was complete.

  And they hadn’t even begun the process beyond tracing his back.

  He still didn’t know why Austin had done that, unless he truly believed Callie would be the perfect person to lay his ink. He’d called the man later and tried to find a polite way to back out of it, but it had been to no avail. Austin believed in his former apprentice and would be right there the whole time, along with his crew, if Callie needed anything. Austin had a way of finding the right tattoo artist for the client, that much Morgan knew, so he couldn’t hold back. He would have to trust his friend.

  If Morgan had been a more cynical man, he’d have thought his friend wanted to set he and Callie up. That wasn’t the way Austin worked though, so Morgan knew it was all in his head. He would deal with Callie and get the ink he desired; that didn’t mean it
would be easy though. And it sure as hell hadn’t been when he sat so close to Callie, inhaling her sweetness and feeling the heat of her body as she traced his back with small, sure and steady hands.

  He’d needed to get out of the shop quickly so he could breathe, or he’d have stayed and let her strip him. Let her run her hands over his back while she learned every contour, dip, curve and slope of muscle. The ink he wanted would take more than one session. In fact, he was sure that it could take at least three or four sessions since he wanted it all in color—multiple colors at that.

  He wanted a phoenix that rested its head on his shoulder while its body and tail feathers draped down his back and to his hips. Its wings he wanted spread out over his sides and then his arms. That way they were almost full sleeves that could be easily hidden under a suit.

  He was past the age of having to prove himself in business. He had held off getting any tattoos that could be deemed in any way unworthy of his family name other than the outline of a starburst on his lower hip. That had been an eighteen-year-old’s experiment with a desire that he’d since forced himself to suppress. He’d always loved tattoos. Loved the way they looked on either gender, the way they made the wearer’s skin look like a painting on a silk canvas, rather than the degenerates his society made them out to be. He’d been jealous of Austin’s talent and the way he wore his art and life on his body. Tattooing was Austin’s livelihood, his life; it only made sense that the man could wear whatever ink he wanted—where he wanted.

  Morgan hadn’t been that lucky. He’d been forced to hide what he wanted and live a life dictated by others—in more ways than one come to think of it—because he couldn’t risk offending the board, his family, and those who watched him because of his father and his father’s father.

  Morgan McAllister was the last male heir of the blue-blooded, old-moneyed McAllisters. And the burden of that legacy along with its responsibilities and expectations weighed heavy on his shoulders. He couldn’t do anything to risk disenchanting his mother and sisters. If he acted as he truly desired in his personal life, he’d only hurt them in the process. As much as the women in his life angered and annoyed him to no end, he wouldn’t disrupt their lives. He loved them even if he didn’t like them most days.