House of Payne: Rude (19 page)
The breath he took was ragged. “So you were able to escape?”
“After the second time Ron Senior raped me, yes.” She waited until Rude was done whispering a long string of profanity under his breath. “I scratched him, Rude. I scratched that bastard on his cock and ass with all my might, making sure I marked him enough to bleed. I knew my fighting back would make him furious, but I had to do it. Even if it meant he’d kill me, I wasn’t going to let him hurt me or anyone else like that again. I’d rather be dead.”
“Jesus.” It sounded shaken, when she’d never heard him sound anything but straight-up confident.
“He beat me to within an inch of my life, but his mistake was leaving me alive. Ron Junior pretended to be asleep while I dropped a pillow outside his window around three in the morning and then fell onto it. I had put those sandwich bags over my hands before I crawled to the neighbor’s house. Once I managed to wake her up, I begged her to not just call the police, but also the local news outlets to let them know about the rapist with the nailed-shut windows who lived next door. I’d seen the sandwich-bag thing on TV,” she added with a shrug, hoping he didn’t think she was weird. “I wanted to make sure that when they tested the blood and skin under my nails, no one could say it was contaminated.”
“Smart girl.” His arms tightened to the point of squeezing the air out of her lungs. “Smart,
brave
girl.”
“When I told the cops exactly where I’d marked Ron Dietrich on his privates—a place no foster child should ever be near, much less know how scratches came to be there—I figured they would have to believe me, especially with the media watching. They did.”
“My brave Sassy.” He gave her another squeeze. “So if you didn’t kill him—and make no mistake, I would have been totally okay with that, baby—how’d he die?”
“In prison.”
He waited a beat. “That’s it?”
“It’s… kind of grisly.” Then she sighed and turned her head to reluctantly meet his stormy gaze. “It took a while to put the case against the Dietrichs together. They lived free and happy, while I spent the next year in this horrible house where battered women and kids got locked up. Apparently becoming a voluntary prisoner is one way to live ‘free’ of abuse.”
“Why the fuck did they put a traumatized little girl in a scary hellhole like that?”
“I’ve always thought it was because I was an embarrassment to the city of Chicago. The case had gone public in a huge way, and I suspect the higher-ups in Social Services didn’t want me to be seen or talked to. Whatever the reason was, I was kept under legal house arrest while the trial against Ron Dietrich went on. A month after he was convicted, my social worker broke her promise of never putting me in another private foster home, but I’m so glad she did. She delivered me to the Panuzzi home, where I met you.”
His arms loosened only to turn her around and crush her to him, one hand coming to cradle the back of her head. “I wish to Christ I could go back in time and treat you with all the care you deserved. Instead all I can remember is pitching a petty little bitch-fit over stupid, motherfucking bathroom privileges. Jesus, how you must’ve hated me.”
“Actually, I needed that normal kind of snarky reaction to reassure me that the Panuzzi house was a good one.” She twined her arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze, sensing that he needed the comfort just as much as she did. “At least you didn’t warn me to run for my life, like Ron Junior did.”
“Little cocksucker should have helped you more than he did.”
“No, that poor whipped-dog of a boy was as trapped as I was, I’m sure of it. A few years later, when I was told the Dietrich house had burned down with his mother Deenie inside, I was worried Ron Junior had died as well. But since I never heard of anyone else except Deenie dying in that fire, I’d like to think that Ron Junior had gotten away from that hellhole by then. Wherever he is now, I hope he’s found a way to be happy.”
“God, you’re a good woman.” He lowered his head so that his mouth rested against her brow, while a hand moved soothingly over her back. “Okay, so that’s Deenie, the bitch who helped an animal rape babies under their roof. What about her piece of shit husband? You said he died in prison.”
“Deenie and Ron Dietrich actually died within forty-eight hours of each other.” And that thought still gave her chills, so she powered through it as fast as she could without letting herself think about it. “Deenie and that house of horrors went up first. It burned down to the foundation and to this day, it’s still nothing but an empty lot. I do know that she’d been awaiting trial, but her lawyer was a master at the delaying game, and he’d kept her out of the courtroom for years. In fact, on the day that the fire occurred, they’d won yet another continuance due to some health issue she supposedly had.”
“Sounds like she would have been better off going to trial.”
She nodded. “A couple days after Deenie’s death, her husband missed the nightly bed-check. At first the people at the prison thought Ron Dietrich had escaped, somehow inspired by the loss of his partner in crime. But then they found him in the kitchens. They also found quite a bit of him in the walk-in freezer. And on the stove in a frying pan, and in a stockpot that was going full boil. And lastly, they found him sprinkled around like mulch in the prison’s garden, but that was just the skin that had been grated off of him. Among other things, Ron Dietrich had been flayed alive.”
“Fuck,” he muttered faintly.
“I always thought prisons were super-regimented, with no privacy to be had and cameras everywhere. But apparently I’m wrong. No one saw a thing. Though on second thought, maybe that’s not surprising,” she said as an afterthought. “I’ve heard that pedophiles don’t do well behind bars. And it has to be said, in the end Ron Dietrich definitely didn’t do well.”
“True.” But his tone was absent as he looked into the middle distance, and it was a look she wasn’t sure she liked. It made her wonder if he thought she might be too screwed up to mess with. She knew she had issues, but then so did he, and she’d overcome hers just as much as he had.
“When my social worker came to the Panuzzi house to tell me the Dietrichs were dead and I no longer had to worry about testifying against Deenie, I was so relieved that I forgot to ask if Ron Junior was okay. I started back downstairs to ask, and that’s when I overheard her talking with Mama Coco about what a good job she and Papa Bolo had done with me. I remember she’d said so many ‘broken’ kids like me were never normal when it came to having a social life, or that they were often destined for a future devoid of normal human contact. It pissed me off so much,” she gritted out, the old anger rippling out from that long-ago wound. “That woman… she was good at her job and she did look out for me as best she could. But she sounded so
pitying
, like Ron Dietrich had killed me when I was thirteen. That’s
bullshit
. My life didn’t fucking end, and that asshole never came close to breaking my spirit. That very next day I asked a classmate out on a date and I’ve been pushing forward ever since. I may have scars, but I’m tougher than they are. Don’t you
ever
doubt that.
I am not broken
.”
“Sassy, I know that. I’ve always known that. After you refused to dance with me at Scout’s wedding, I got pissy and blew off some steam to my folks—told them I was just going to grab you and make you dance with me whether you liked it or not. That’s when my mom dragged me out to the parking lot and proceeded to read me the riot act like I was some four year old throwing a tantrum.”
Her eyes widened. “She did? Did she tell you…?”
He shrugged. “Not any details, just enough for me to fill in the blanks. And she was fucking ferocious when it came to protecting you from me. She straight-up told me that I had no right to set my sights on a prize like you unless I truly believed I was man enough to accept both you and your baggage, and even help you unpack that shit whenever you were ready to do it. So I know you’re not broken, Sass. The question is, do
you
know that? Are you ready to finally unpack your baggage and make yourself at home?”
She doubted Mama Coco put it like that, but it didn’t stop her from giving him a wobbly smile. “You sure you want that?”
“I can’t believe you have to ask.” He touched his mouth to hers, then deepened the kiss until her skin tingled with heat. “You have to realize by now that I know what it is to have scars that no one can see. To have them, and to conquer them. That’s why I’m proud of my scars. But baby, I’m even prouder of yours.”
Sass had never felt so free. It was as though a boulder had been crushing her into the ground, but she’d been so used to the weight she hadn’t even known it was there. Now that it was gone, it was like seeing the sun for the first time. It was glorious, a miracle, and the most amazing part of it was that it had come from sharing the darkest part of herself with Rude.
Sharing it, and having it accepted.
She smiled through his kiss, smiled as its intensity went from soothing to hungry to feverish. She smiled as he walked her backward toward his rumpled, unmade bed, and smiled when she undid the buttons of his dark gray long-sleeved, slim-fit cargo shirt. When she uncovered that tattooed, muscular chest and saw his hard-earned scars—marks that showed he was stronger than whatever it was that tried to kill him—she laughed under her breath.
“What?” He worked the fastening of her skirt and pushed both it and her underclothes down. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m happy.” As if to prove it, her smile refused to fade as she worked him out of his clothes until he was as naked as she was. “I didn’t know this level of happy existed.”
“This is how it should be.” He bent to help her out of her shoes, then pressed his mouth to her belly. She shivered, then shivered again when his tongue glided down to the juncture of her thighs. But as much as she wanted the madness she knew he could give her, she wanted him to be right there with her.
“You too, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. She’d never called anyone
sweetheart
in her life. But with that free, melted-honey feeling rippling through her, the endearment came easily. “I want to taste you, too.”
“I can make that happen.” The sensual excitement thrumming through his voice was contagious, and she laughed when he suddenly lifted her, princess-style, and placed her in the middle of the bed. He pressed a kiss to her mouth, a promise of good things to come, before he sat at her side and turned in the direction of her legs. With his hands bracing his weight on either side of her hips, he moved his body over hers, trailing his mouth down her stomach, to linger over a subtle peak of a hipbone, down to an inner thigh.
Then he shifted his weight onto his elbows, freeing his hands so they could move between her legs.
Oh, yes.
She tucked her loose hair under her head and scooted deeper under the arch of his body he held suspended over her. As always he was ready for her, his thick cock so hard it was almost touching his flat belly. Her innermost tissues throbbed at the sight of it, a helpless, needy response that left her cleft achy and wet. It was such a sweet agony she couldn’t help but let her hips twitch up to him in a wordless plea, even as she nudged his knee with her head. He accommodated her by placing his knees on either side of her head, while his one hand expertly parted her pink inner folds while the other went in search of her clit.
“There we go,” she whispered, and her voice shook with the weight of the need inside her. Just the sight of him was enough to unravel her, but when his touch was added into the mix, she felt like she might explode. Then she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft, and knew that exploding from pleasure was in their near futures. “I love how hard you get for me, Rude. Your body’s so beautiful, and when you get this hard, knowing it’s because of me… it makes me crazy.”
“It’s nothing compared to how much I love the way you get so fucking wet for me, Sass. It makes me insane, knowing you want me as much as I want you. God, you’re a gift.” And with that admission, he lowered his head and tasted her.
“
Yes
.” Her fingers squeezed, even as pleasure uncurled deep in her belly. Feverishly she reveled in the sensation of his veins pulsing beneath satin-smooth, scorching hot flesh against her palm and fingertips, and with a thrill of anticipation she arched up to take the purpling head into her mouth.
His groan was low and long, reverberating against her exposed intimate flesh. Her attention became hopelessly divided between giving him all he deserved, and enjoying what he gave her. Though she did her best to fight it, the sweet pleasure of his mouth was slowly winning the war. She moved restlessly under him, her cleft throbbing while his tongue abraded her nub without mercy.
When she moaned, she could feel the vibration of it through her lips that were circled wetly around him.
A broken sound escaped him, something that could have been her name before he surged deeper into her mouth, his actions insistent yet careful. She didn’t want him to be careful. She wanted him out of his mind. She wanted him be lost in such intense delight he wouldn’t even be capable of thinking. She moaned against him again even as she rolled her lips over the edge of her teeth to optimize the slick gliding sensation, before toying with the head’s ridge with her tongue. Her heart leapt in unison with the flesh in her mouth, and the sudden rigidity of his body sent her excitement spiraling up into the stratosphere.
“Sassy… oh God, baby, I’m close.” His voice was ragged, tortured. She loved it beyond all reason. “You feel so good, but I can’t let you…”
For an answer, she reached up and gripped his ass to hold him in place, just in case he had any ideas about pulling away. She wanted him to know, to
feel
, that his pleasure was just as important to her as hers was to him.
The muscles beneath her fingers clenched to rock-solid hardness before his head dipped again and he devoted himself anew to worshipping her body. Helplessly her hips undulated in time with the sensuous rhythm his clever mouth set up, his tongue alternately circling and stroking her until she thought she would lose her damn mind. But it wasn’t until she cried out at the sensations tightening through her body that his intensity suddenly changed. His lips closed around her clit even as his hips began to pump harder, and the head of his cock hit the back of her throat even as he sucked her in hard.
The tension folded in on itself in ever-tightening convulsions before it snapped inside her. A flash-fire of madness consumed her, and she was only vaguely aware of how urgently he thrust into her. As warmth hit the back of her throat, the ecstasy he gave her shot through her until it colored her entire world.
Sass pushed through the apartment door after Rude dropped her off and headed to work. She was in the process of dumping her things on the credenza by the door when Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” sounded from the depths of her purse. In all honesty she’d been expecting a call from Scout sooner than midmorning, but when she answered after taking a moment to mentally brace for a battery of far too personal questions, her former foster sister greeted her with, “Dude, I need help.”
Instantly alert, Sass snapped up straight. “Name it.”
“I’m a fucking idiot and left my tablet, which is basically my brain, at home. Ivar took off to scout out prime photographic locations around town, and I don’t want to bother him since he’s doing what he needs to do to bring his photography business to Chicago. I hate to ask, but could you…?”
“Absolutely. I’ve got your spare elevator card key…somewhere.” For a second Sass blanked, then remembered she’d stuck it in a drawer of her work desk along with a bunch of other oddball things. It only took a couple moments before she surfaced with the card key that would summon the private elevator that went straight up to Scout and Ivar’s place. “Sweet. Found it.”
“I love you so much right now.”
“Thank me if I can get it to you. Do you remember where you left it?”
“It’s on the dining room table, which is still doubling as my desk at home, and probably will be until the end of time. And not to hurry you along or anything, but all hell has broken loose here at the House, so um… hurry?”
“Just call your doormen so they know not to arrest me for breaking in, or whatever. Oh, and I’ll bring Red The Skittish over and leave her food and water as well, if that’s okay.”
“Perfect. And thanks again.”
An hour later with tablet in hand, Sass headed toward Scout’s office located on the second floor of the hottest tattoo studio in the city, if not the world, House Of Payne. Unlike every other tattoo place on the planet, House Of Payne had been deliberately fashioned after exclusive art galleries, complete with a downstairs exhibit area with white modular walls and stark black marble flooring, an array of overhead floodlights as well as pinpoint lights that could be moved to highlight specific works. There were two twelve-foot tall towers of stacked HD screens that displayed pieces of award-winning body art and the faces of the artists who created the works, and each name was as famous in the world of ink as the art itself. In the absolute center of the open, avant-garde art gallery was a 3D holographic plinth, displaying a hand pushing against something membranous, and she could well imagine how that tattoo, placed on a human body, would give the realistic appearance of a hand pushing against skin from the inside. It was both creeptastic and genius, and she’d bet real money the House had already sold a monster-ton of that very tat, just from having it on display.
Upstairs was where the real magic happened. Aside from the executive offices, tattoo booths made of thick frosted privacy-glass bearing the House Of Payne logo took up one half of the open-plan upper level. Within those booths could be an everyday soccer mom, to a European Royal, to a kid who had saved all year for their first tat, to an internationally-known star of the silver screen. Everyone who was anyone came to the House for their ink.
Overheard, the moody strains of Staind smoldered, adding to the sense of edgy disturbance that Sass could sense in the air. A tattooist with shoulder-length black curly hair and a supreme amount of scruff paced outside one of the booths, his sleeves rolled up to reveal arms covered in Gothic black designs. He was scowling, a phone pressed to his ear. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but it looked intense, whatever it was. With a polite nod in his direction when he looked up and caught her staring, she quickly turned her attention to the familiar ground of Scout’s office. But as she reached for the door, the man raised his voice from behind her.
“Hey, I wouldn’t go in there right now if I were you.”
Sass glanced back at him. So her take on the atmosphere had been right on target. “Any particular reason why?”
“Mainly because anyone who goes in there right now would be taking their life into their own hands.”
Yep. A definite disturbance. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”
“Your funeral.” He shrugged and went back to his phone conversation.
Braced now for anything, Sass rapped two quick knocks against the door before pushing inside, just as two men headed straight for her. She got out of the way double-quick, as neither of them seemed inclined to acknowledge her existence.
The man bringing up the rear was someone Sass recognized from way back before House Of Payne was even an idea. Sebastian Payne, or simply Payne, had been Scout’s best friend since about the time Scout had come into her life. When Sass had first met him, she’d assumed a hot guy like Payne was Scout’s man. With spiky brown hair, hazel eyes and a business acumen destined to bring House Of Payne into international fame, anyone would have thought Scout and Payne made a great power couple. But they made better friends than lovers, and together they had built the House into the legendary name in the world of ink.
But obviously, especially on days like today, it was never easy.
Payne nodded her way. “Sass, good to see you. Mind holding that door open nice and wide for this gentleman so that he can make a clean getaway?”
“What the fuck,” the man in front of Payne muttered, and while clearly pissed in a passive-aggressive way, he was not confrontational. He was dressed in a security uniform that no doubt came off a rental rack, and shoes that squeaked with every left step. Sass did as she was asked, hopping out of the way and closing the door behind them after they’d passed.
“Yikes.” Wide-eyed, Sass backed away from the door, half-expecting the negative energy to somehow blow it open again. “What the hell is going on around here? Some smoldering Jon Snow-lookalike outside just told me I’d be killed if I walked in here.”
“For once, Twist wasn’t lying. The shit hit the fan while I was gone and sprayed absolutely everywhere.”
“So that’s the resident wild man, Twist.” Making a sympathetic sound, Sass moved to the desk and held out the tablet. “He looked like he was on the phone with his lawyer or something. He’s not being a pain again, is he?”
“Believe it or not, that bad boy has been tamed. Well,” she amended thoughtfully, “maybe not tamed, but
calmed
by the woman in his life. And may I add a hearty
thank God
to the end of that statement.”
“Feel free.”
“Thank God.” Taking the tablet from her with a grateful hug, Scout waved her into a seat opposite her. “I’m hoping Twist is on the phone to his sister Essie, and not his lawyer. Apparently little sis is some kind of a graphic artist and budding fashion designer wunderkind, currently gracing Texas with her talents while wrapping up an arts degree. She’s the head costume designer for the university’s theater department, which means she might be exactly what we’re looking for, as well as the answer to a personal prayer of mine.”
Sass frowned. “You’ve lost me. What are you talking about?”
