Inked Magic

by Jory Strong

  “Which is why I’m here,” Liam said. “If you’re still determined to court Etaín rather than incarcerate her, then dismiss the humans and assign the task of watching her to me.”

  He’d hoped to avoid the risk of having her brought to the attention of other supernaturals but he saw no choice, nor could he bear another day like today, where worry over her consumed him. “The duty is yours, unless she is with me . . . or with Cathal Dunne, then you are relieved of it.”

  A hard look fully expressed Liam’s opinion about the latter part of the command, but Eamon let it stand.

  Derrick opened the door with a dramatic fling, sending it crashing against the wall as a cloud of pot smoke spilled out of the apartment. Etaín took in the light blue Victoria’s Secret nightgown and said, “The stoned housewife look works for you. I’m sure the guys in prison will love it.”

  “I’m smoking for medicinal purposes.”

  “Right.”

  “Not all of us get the same choice of prime beefcake you do, Etaín.”

  She resisted the urge to point out that having it didn’t make a hell of a lot of difference when it came to anything beyond casual.

  “Staying home and high is only going to make the misery last longer, you know that, Derrick. You’ll get through this a lot quicker by working. Jason came by today, and a couple of your other clients. They’re counting on you. So is Bryce.”

  Derrick sniffed. “Did he send you?”

  “Yeah. I would have given you a few more days to wallow before coming over and kicking ass, but Bryce wanted you to know he cleared your schedule for tomorrow. After that, he expects you to handle it.”

  Steeling herself for a cocktail mix of emotions, she reached out, wanting to offer the comfort of touch. Gripping his bare upper arms, anger and depression and hurt slammed into her in a chaotic torrent. But after the first wave of it, she got a hit of sexual interest that surprised her until he said, “If Etaín’s dragged you here to provide a pity fuck, I accept.”

  She looked to the left and saw Quinn had stepped into view. The way his thumbs were tucked into his front pockets, causing his hands to frame a pretty impressive erection, suggested Derrick’s whole tragic-heroine-in-need-of-a-manly-rescuer hit just the right note with Quinn.

  Etaín let her hands fall off Derrick’s arms and took a step to the side. “Quinn, Derrick. Derrick, Quinn.”

  Derrick stopped blocking the doorway, silently inviting them in and smoothing nervous hands down the sides of his nightgown.

  Etaín hid a smile as Quinn stepped past her and into the apartment. Not wanting to send Derrick into a tailspin by mentioning either Cathal or Salina’s playing at Saoirse, she said, “I’ve got to be somewhere. Is it okay if I stash my kit here?”

  Derrick frowned as his eyes traveled from the suitcase she’d hauled with her to Quinn, finally focusing in on how much new art he was wearing. “Someone needs aftercare.”

  “Yeah.” She bit her bottom lip but it didn’t help. The words escaped anyway. “Play nurse, take care of him for me?”

  “Not funny, Etaín,” he said, but the glare accompanying it was shades of Derrick before this current meltdown.

  Reaching out he took the handle of the roll-on.

  She bolted.

  The high of success lasted until the cab she’d hailed drew close to Saoirse. Then an unfamiliar nervousness crept in along with the heat spiraling downward from her belly to her cunt. Usually she felt totally in control when it came to men, and this kind of situation, where sex was a given.

  She caught herself rubbing her palms against her short skirt, the same way Derrick had rubbed his against the blue nightie. Get a grip, she told herself, blaming the uncharacteristic feelings and uncertainty on Eamon.

  His open talk of accepting a ménage arrangement and his hints about permanence being an option had spooked her. That’s all. Her gift gave her a very real reason to avoid it, and seeing Derrick cycle through failed relationships was a constant reminder of how much it hurt to lose people you loved and who you thought loved you.

  Casual equals comfortable she reminded herself as the cab stopped in front of Saoirse.

  Thirteen

  Cathal set his empty drink glass down and pushed away from the bar. On stage, Salina and her band were getting ready to play. He didn’t need to check his watch to know the time. Every minute of the day had seemed to drag since taking the call from Sean.

  He moved through the crowded club, not bothering to lie to himself about his ultimate destination. The front door, so he could step outside and see if she’d arrived yet.

  Work had kept him in his office most of the evening and given him an excuse to monitor the entrance via security cameras. He’d seen the line starting to form. It was a good turnout for a Tuesday.

  “Etaín promised. She’ll be here,” Salina had assured him repeatedly since arriving at the club.

  He believed that she believed it. The question was whether or not Etaín valued the promises she gave.

  He prided himself on keeping his word. In that, he and his father and uncle were the same, holding to a code of honor, though there were differences in how they applied it, especially when it came to women.

  Both his father and uncle were serial adulterers. They didn’t flaunt their mistresses, didn’t bring them to Saoirse. But he heard about them all the same, and would have written their behavior off as stereotypical of gangsters, except he knew it was really about power.

  Thoughts of Etaín with Eamon had jealousy stabbing and twisting in his gut. He wasn’t a man to either turn a blind eye to or accept infidelity. He expected and gave exclusivity when he was seeing a woman on a regular basis, even when the sex came with no promises of it being more than a comfortable and pleasant relationship for both of them.

  A hand on his arm stopped him steps away from the door. He followed the bare skin to a generous display of cleavage and above it, an attractive face with a seductive smile.

  “Leaving so soon? Just when I’m getting here?”

  His cock stirred. He was a man. But he felt no regret at missing the opportunity she presented. “Stepping out to collect my date.”

  Her hand fell away with a pout. He’d forgotten her with the next step toward the door.

  The chill of the night was no match for the heat that moved through him at seeing Etaín. She glittered in comparison to the other women, hardening him with her smile and drawing him forward like a thief to a priceless work of art.

  “Never wait in line to come to me,” he said, arms going around her waist, pulling her against him.

  Her laugh was seduction itself, a tight, hot fist around his dick.

  She pressed her lower body to his. “I don’t need to ask if you’re happy to see me. Thanks for giving Salina’s band a chance to play here.”

  He nuzzled her cheek, inhaling her. Now that she was in his arms he didn’t know how he’d managed to get through the day without having her there—or better, underneath him.

  The thought should have sent him running as fast as he could away from her. It didn’t. And his family wasn’t the sole reason.

  He was breaking a personal rule about public displays, not for the first time since meeting her. Spearing his fingers through her hair and holding her in place, his lips sought hers.

  She welcomed him with a soft sigh and the sensuous slide of tongue against tongue. He wouldn’t wait to get her home before he had her. Couldn’t. But then that much had been obvious all day.

  His hand moved up her side, stopping just short of covering a breast. Possessiveness gripped him. Need.

  He forced his mouth away from hers, the hunger to taste her more deeply, more thoroughly, unsatisfied. “A quick tour?” he asked, knowing it would end almost as soon as it began.

  She laughed again, lips brushing his. “Show me everything.”

  Fire raced through his blood, carrying every drop of it downward to his cock. It was all he could manage to escort her into the club, pointing
out the VIP section and allowing her to pause long enough to acknowledge Bryce and wave to Salina before getting her into his office and locking the door behind them.

  She glanced around. “No gold-plated albums on the walls? No signed pictures of you with famous people?”

  He cupped her hips, pulling her lower body against his so she’d feel the hard swell of his erection. “I don’t need to overcompensate for failings in one area by turning my office into an ostentatious show of success.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and smiled against his mouth. “Are you looking for validation of your prowess?”

  “I warned you about what would happen if you came to Saoirse.”

  “I made it more than a few steps inside.”

  She stirred primal urges to life, enflaming him with her challenge and sexual confidence. He separated from her long enough to take her purse and the biker jacket, tossing them onto a chair. “You won’t need either of them while you’re in my club.”

  He was turned on by tight nipples pressed to a thin blouse, by the heady scent of her and the pulse racing in her neck. She backed away when he crowded into her personal space, but he knew she let him force her retreat, allowed him to trap her against the front of the desk.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, mouth taking hers in a rough kiss as his hand stroked her exposed thigh before grasping the hem of her skirt and jerking upward.

  He felt the heat of her through her clothing and couldn’t stop himself from cupping her mound to ensure she was wet for him.

  Her panties were scraps of material. Easy to push out of his way before impaling her with his fingers.

  She clamped down on him with a hungry sound, fierce need mirroring the one raging inside him. A tug of his zipper and he freed himself, desperate to get inside her.

  On a moan she broke the kiss. “Condom.” Her hands were on his chest, pushing, reinforcing the word.

  The shock of having lost control to the point of forgetting about protection should have drenched him in fear. It didn’t. Not when it came to what he wanted. Her.

  He pulled a packet from his back pocket and ripped it open. She took it from him, murmuring against his lips, “Feeling pretty confident? Or do you always carry one?”

  Curiosity. Amusement. He bared his teeth, realizing he wanted to hear an edge of jealousy in her voice.

  He thought to return to foreplay, so he could wrest a scream of frustration out of her to match what he felt. But she deftly rolled the condom onto his cock and the sight of her doing it, the feel of her hands touching him had a red haze rolling over him, turning aggravation into an aggressive, burning need.

  He forced her backward and onto the edge of his desk, his hands returning to arousal-wet panties and pushing them aside. “Now,” he said, moaning at finding her slit, his cock entering her in a slow slide to ecstasy.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, her inner muscles squeezing him, clinging to him, making movement imperative.

  He acted on the raging lust she incited in him, the tumultuous emotions her presence stirred. Used his arms around her waist and the angle of his body to hold her so each pounding thrust delivered a burst of sensation to her clit.

  Her sharp cries and the merciless tightening of her channel heightened his pleasure, building up the need in both of them until he was afraid it would be over for him before it was for her.

  Tearing his mouth from hers he kissed his way to her ear. “Give in to it,” he said, taking the lobe, sucking hard and deep and firm, as if it were her nipple, her clit.

  Her legs became a vise-hold around his hips, making it a fight to thrust, an intense battle that had him grinding, rubbing against her clit.

  A gasp, a small cry that was a shout of victory to his ego and she obeyed, her sheath rippling against him, demanding he surrender to pleasure, too.

  He came, unable to make himself leave her body afterward. “I wanted you in my bed last night,” he said, the truth escaping before he could prevent it. “I kept hoping you’d make it to the club after all.”

  She rubbed her cheek against his, an affectionate gesture that shouldn’t have mattered to him. Shouldn’t have had the power to pour warmth into his chest, but did.

  “Saoirse was closed by the time I got finished with my brother.”

  Some perverse part of him made him push, test. “Then we both ended the night alone.”

  She stilled. He expected her to lie and almost wished she had when she said, “I saw Eamon after I did what I needed to do for my brother.”

  The admission made the muscles along his arms turn to steel and his hands ball into fists against her back. Jealousy pulsed through him, a possessiveness that would have verged on dangerous obsession if he were a different type of man.

  He wrestled it down by reminding himself of what was at stake here. Her life.

  Rather than pull away from her in anger, he nuzzled her ear and was rewarded by the fist-tight clamp of her channel on his semi-hard cock. “Why did you go to him when you could have come to me?”

  The legs still wrapped around his waist tightened so his cock pushed deeper into her body. “Maybe I like variety. Don’t tell me you’re not the same.”

  He let the challenge pass but heard himself warn, “I’m not a man to share when I’m serious about a woman.”

  She sighed, a soft puff of warmth against his cheek. “Then don’t get serious about me.”

  Protest rippled through him when her legs fell away, no longer holding him against her. Anger and jealousy returned but he pushed them back with forceful denial.

  He made himself pull from her hot depths and break the physical contact. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Etaín slid from the desk, smoothing her skirt down over thighs he wanted to touch his lips to. “It’s time for a trip to the lady’s room,” she said, a glance at her jacket and purse an indication she was already thinking about ending her night away from him.

  He couldn’t allow it, and the promise to his father wasn’t the main reason. “You can leave your things in here. The door is locked when I’m not in my office. Drinks and food are on the house.”

  Her dark, dark eyes were mysterious, impenetrable, unreadable. He had no way of knowing if she felt as out of control as he did, if she burned and needed when she wasn’t with him.

  It drove him crazy. Challenged him. He didn’t like thinking he was interchangeable with another man, with Eamon in particular.

  He dealt with the condom, tucking himself in and zipping his pants as she watched, the eroticism of it and the heat that came into her eyes making him touch her again, curl an arm around her waist and pull her to him. “If you keep looking at me that way, we’ll never make it out to hear Lady Steel.”

  She took his bottom lip, sucked it gently. “I guess we should leave then.”

  But her arms went around his neck. “I want you again.”

  It soothed some of the raw, chaotic emotion churning inside him, pleased him to hear her say it. “Come home with me tonight?”

  His hand drifted down to smooth over a tight, alluring buttock. “It went too fast before. I intended to fuck you with my tongue before my cock.”

  She smiled against his lips. “Are you saying I rushed you?”

  “We can blame it on the skirt.”

  “That’s generous of you.”

  He gripped her ass, grinding her against an erection that defied the laws of nature with its size and fullness so quickly after the orgasm he’d experienced with her. “If this doesn’t tempt you into coming home with me, then I’ve got a hot tub. I promise to be good.”

  “What if I want bad?”

  His hand moved from her buttock to her breast, covering it, tweaking the nipple through the thin blouse. “I can accommodate you. We can be bad together.”

  She trailed a fingertip along his jaw, rubbing it against the stubble there. He’d shaved in anticipation of seeing her but he could already use another, complements of his father’s g
enes.

  “You make it hard to say no.”

  “Then don’t. Say ‘yes, Cathal, I’m dying to spend the night in your bed.’”

  Her laugh made him smile. “No confidence issues there. Now it’s bed. What happened to the hot tub?”

  “Say yes and I’ll promise not to fuck you against the wall the moment we get through my front door. I’ll wait until we’re in the hot tub.”

  “Yes.”

  He succumbed to the temptation of her lips, sealing the agreement with the slide of his tongue against hers, a sensuous, heated tangle that was both substitute for sex and prelude to it.

  With effort he stopped. With greater effort he escorted her out of the office and to the bathrooms.

  “I’ll wait for you,” he said, suppressing the internal alarm his need to keep her close caused.

  Lady Steel was in full swing but he couldn’t enjoy the music until Etaín emerged from the lady’s room. A fast song morphed into a slow one and he used it as an excuse to guide her to the dance floor and recapture the feel of her pressed to him.

  “What do you think of Salina’s band?” Etaín asked hours later, once again in his arms, their bodies rubbing and touching as they danced, the low hum she’d felt from the moment he’d pushed his cock inside her now a constant, insistent buzz of desire, an electric heat demanding skin-to-skin contact.

  “They’ve got promise.” He nuzzled her ear. “And now I’d like to keep my promise. Ready to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  She gave Salina a thumbs-up before they left. Bryce, in turn, separated himself from a brunette clinging to him long enough to give her one.

  Cathal’s place was a gorgeous Victorian high enough on a hill to provide privacy, and situated on a large lot in Presidio Heights. He parked in the street rather than the garage, and she smiled, guessing he wanted her to get the full effect of entering his house.

  Ten-foot hedges flanked a wrought-iron gate. Steps led up to a red door. He took her hand as she got out of the car and she felt a betraying flutter in the region of her heart.

  Hardwood flooring and high ceilings gave off warmth as well as an open feeling. The furniture was made to sprawl on, while a plush rug in front of a fireplace was an invitation to move the lovemaking off the couch and onto the floor.