by Jory Strong
“Your valets ride?”
She felt the small, teasing smile. “If they don’t, I’ll replace the Harley with another of your choosing. An upgrade even, so you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
“You make it hard to refuse.”
“That’s my intention.”
She racked the kickstand and turned off the engine. He stepped back so she could swing off the bike.
Taking the key from her he passed it off to the maître d’ inside along with dinner instructions. A private elevator took them to the top floor.
He’d said “suite” and he’d meant it. Elegant dining and sitting areas. Plants in abundance, their pots beautifully crafted. A large bed visible through an arched doorway. And like his home, the walls held priceless paintings.
A Renoir drew her forward for a closer view. Eamon came up behind her, his arms pulling her against him so she felt the hard ridge of his erection. He pressed kisses along her neck. “Beautiful things please me,” he murmured. “Though nothing pleases me as much as having you with me.”
It should have come across as a line, total bullshit she could laugh away and enjoy for the play it was. Instead it came across as honest, and worse, unrelated to the message of lust his hard cock gave.
Unease spiraled through her at how her intentions to keep things casual with both men faded quickly when she was with either of them. She couldn’t seem to stay away from Eamon any more than she could Cathal, and didn’t bother lying to herself. The need for answers hadn’t brought her here.
Like to like. It was an attraction that might only be broken if she did as her mother had done. Run and keep running.
It was a mantra often repeated, and yet her mother had left her in San Francisco. At eight years old she’d had no choice but to remain in one place. At eight, she’d been too young to have any defenses against coming to love the man she thought was her father, and the protective boy she thought was her brother.
An idea took shape in her mind, a question she couldn’t shake and yet one she would never have an answer to. Was foresight her mother’s gift? Is that what the eye on the back of her mother’s hand signified?
See, but don’t be seen.
Had she chosen San Francisco because she’d seen Eamon there? Had she left Etaín, untrained in the use of her gift, knowing that needing Eamon’s help might make her stay with him?
Etaín felt the headache returning and grimaced. This is why she didn’t like to think too much about her gift and its uses.
Amusement followed, a by-product of self-knowledge. She pressed backward, against Eamon’s hardened cock. “I was promised a demonstration of magic. But if you got me up here to show me sex magic, I’m already a believer.”
His laugh made her smile. “Not sex magic despite evidence to the contrary.”
He gave a tender bite to her neck then nuzzled her ear. “I can smell his cologne on you.”
He made it a dark, erotic discovery and her nipples tightened in response to it. Desire coiled low and deep in her belly. “Is that a problem for you?”
“Quite the contrary. I enjoyed this morning’s fun and games. Did Cathal?”
Images of what it had been like with Cathal when they got to her apartment brought the remembered heat of a threat-rough voice and raw demands. Dominance stirred by possessiveness and jealousy.
Her channel clenched repeatedly, violently, with a need that went beyond simple physical joining. “Not at the time, but later . . . Later we both did.”
Eamon’s husky laugh made her squeeze her thighs together. He pressed another kiss to her ear.
She wanted him, but she was aware of the sweat dried on her skin from the sickness that had vanished in his presence, the griminess left over from retching in the bathroom down the hall from Brianna’s room.
“I’d like a shower.”
He stroked his hands down her sides. “Perfect. The demonstration I have in mind is best done after you’ve taken one.”
A wave of remembered pleasure went through her, at what it had been like the last time she and Eamon had taken a shower together. “This still sounds like a demonstration of sex magic to me.”
“I’m not going to join you. Though fair warning, I’ll wait and watch while you do.”
“Kinky.” And yet it excited her, not just the prospect of being watched, but what she might do, in turn, to the watcher.
He led her to a bathroom easily as large as her apartment. Mirrors took up one wall. Seeing them she asked, “You do this often? Promise a woman a demonstration of magic if she’ll come upstairs with you?”
It bothered her that he might. It bothered her more that she was bothered by it.
“Jealous?”
A shrug rather than a lie. This isn’t permanent, she told herself, uneasiness shimmering through her when it didn’t feel as completely true as it once would have.
He took the same position he had as they’d stood together in front of the Renoir, his arms encircling her, his mouth close enough to her ear that his words came on an erotic whisper of breath. “You have no cause to be jealous, Etaín. You have my full attention and no competition. I told you, there won’t be anyone else now that I’ve met you.”
A shiver went through her at seeing them together in the mirror. They fit. Like to like.
“Watch,” he said, hands slowly stripping her of the jacket. The shirt. The bra. The rest of it following, leaving her standing naked while he was fully clothed.
“It pleases me to take care of you,” he murmured.
The intimacy of it unnerved her. “So it’s not just about getting me out of my clothes so we can do the nasty?” She joked, trying to return to what was familiar, comfortable. Sex without complications.
He ignored the comment, placing a long trail of kisses along her neck, her bare shoulder, his caresses turning her nipples into painful points and making her wet with need before he stepped backward. “Take your shower, Etaín.”
She lifted her arms, watching his face tighten with desire in the mirror as she braided, then knotted her hair to keep it from getting wet. “Shower with me, like we did before.”
“No.”
“Using reverse psychology? So I’ll have to work at seducing you now?”
He stepped into her, his hands going to her bare breasts, cupping and molding, sending spikes of pleasure from her nipples to her cunt with each touch to them. “I think maybe I’ve been too easy a conquest for you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Oh but there is. At the risk of scaring you and making you leave in a rush, I’ll repeat myself. I won’t always settle for a meaningless physical act.”
Reverse psychology, a dare, and yet even recognizing what he was doing, the challenge he presented was too great. She wanted him again, needed him despite being with Cathal earlier in the day.
The possibility Eamon could hold out intrigued her. From the time the dreams of ink started, she’d been fending off advances from men and women of all ages.
She turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck as she pressed against him. He didn’t bother to keep the desire from his expression. That’d be pointless given the size of his erection, nor did he temper his response when her mouth found his.
Long moments passed. One kiss blending into another, a deep, heated communication of desire as his hands roamed, finally settling on her hips and holding her tightly as he ground his cloth-covered cock against her.
She broke the kiss then, her breathing as fast as his. “Sure you won’t shower with me?”
“Yes.”
“Your loss.”
“We’ll see.”
She pulled away and walked the short distance to the glass-fronted shower stall, hyperaware of how wet and swollen she was between her thighs. He took a seat and amusement trickled in at having a bathroom large enough to accommodate furniture, though it served a purpose now.
She stepped into the shower stall and turned
on the water, lathering her hands and proceeding to apply soap to every inch of her skin. It heightened the sensation, knowing he watched, feeling his eyes on her and his hunger as she touched herself.
Fantasy returned, the same one she’d had when she showered in her apartment after meeting both Cathal and Eamon. The three of them together, though now she knew what it was like to be with them separately.
Release came, enough of one to leave a hum of contentment. She turned the water off and stepped out of shower to find Eamon standing with a towel his hands, his nostrils flared. She smiled. “Do you want me to help you out of your clothes so they won’t get wet?”
“Not yet.”
She lowered her eyes to the front of his trousers, provocatively running her tongue over her lip. “You’re sure?”
“For the moment,” he said, the heated need in his voice and the hard outline of his erection assuring her he did have a breaking point, and she would find it before she left him.
He moved closer, refusing to hand her the towel when she reached for it. “I told you before you got into the shower that it pleases me to take care of you.”
Their game had gone too far for her to retreat. And then his touch made it impossible.
He wielded cloth like a sensual weapon, applying it to every inch of skin as she’d done with soapy hands. Lingering over breasts and inner thighs and cunt until she was thoroughly aroused again.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered.
She complied and felt him step away then return.
“Now open them.”
He was holding a hanger. “Dress for me.”
Refusal surged into her instantly, the request touching old wounds, the silent message she always heard from the captain and Parker. Conform to my expectations if you want to be a part of my world. But if Eamon saw the turmoil he’d caused, he ignored it. Diffused it by saying, “When I bought the dress, I envisioned you accompanying me to Saoirse while wearing it. Now I find I don’t want to share the vision of you in it with Cathal.”
“I think that might be best.” Despite her fantasy and growing need for both of them, she couldn’t see Cathal tolerating Eamon’s physical presence when he could barely stand knowing she might be with him.
Eamon took the dress from the hanger and handed it to her. It was minimalist in design. Dark blue and backless, with a hemline shorter than the skirt she’d worn to Cathal’s club.
The sleeves extended to her wrists, hiding the tattoos on her forearms. The front was equally concealing, elegant, making the show of skin elsewhere seem wickedly erotic.
“There are matching shoes,” he said. “Optional for dining in.”
“Apparently panties are optional, too.”
“Of course.”
She tugged the dress on over her head. It clung to her like a second skin.
“Where are the shoes?”
He produced a pair of fuck-me heels. She slipped them on, tormenting him, both of them knowing he had only to free his cock and push the dress upward to have nothing separate them.
Satisfaction purred through her when she saw his hand only just stop before gripping his erection. “Sure you want to keep holding out on me?”
He stepped forward, swamping her with heat and scent, sea blue eyes turbulent with lust. “Until after dinner at least, then we’ll see just how persuasive you can be.”
A brush of his mouth to hers, a hint of tongue quickly denied. “Now for the demonstration I promised.”
With hands on her hips he turned her toward the mirrored wall. But instead of seeing reflections, the entire span was taken up by a mural, a swirling mix of color alive with movement. Water. Vast and deep. Calm and raging. Captured in a spectrum of blues and greens and even black, the texture smooth and flowing.
She was drawn forward as she had been to the Renoir, mesmerized by the illusion.
Eamon went with her, hands stroking her arms in a slow caress. “What do you see?”
“Water.”
He reached out, touching his fingertips to the wall. “And now?”
Shades of orange and red and yellow, of blue and black. Roaring and flickering, furious and soothing. Warming as well as incinerating, obliterating.
“Fire.”
“Yes. Both are the essence of who I am, the elemental magic I’m most strongly linked to. They’re revealed here because of a spell woven into the mirror and directed by my will.”
She was instantly out of her comfort zone. Yet there was no denying those first impressions. The scent of fire and water, and the sensation of cold blue flames licking along the vines as she passed through the front door of Aesirs. The sound of surf, vines becoming flooded, rushing streams at stepping into the terraced section. Raging fire and stormy seas, the like calls to like of Eamon.
Delaying full acceptance of it, she said, “Or I could see both because you’ve invested in some amazing special effects technology.”
He gently bit her earlobe. “I’ll never lie to you, Etaín.”
His fingertips left the wall, extinguishing the fire and leaving behind a blank canvas and eerie sense of possibility. He captured her hand. “Your turn.”
She resisted instinctively, yielding only when he laughed and said, “Afraid? There’s no reason to be. Not here. Not now.”
The wall felt like a mirror though it came to life with her touch and made her breath catch. Not just fire and water, but earth and air, the sunlight and moonlight she knew in that instant represented the ethereal, spirit.
They were all there, flowing one into the other, coming with sensations so familiar to her that she had to fight not to jerk her hand away. “What do you see?” she asked.
“A dark woods with a fire at its center. Wet sand and rich loam. The day. The night. A wild joy at running through and beneath all of it. Magic’s primordial birthplace, Etaín, at least for those like us.”
His answer made her heart beat erratically and goose bumps rise on her skin though she wasn’t surprised he’d seen the very things she felt whenever she stepped outside after a long period of being indoors.
“Demonstration complete,” she said, unable to suppress a shiver.
The wall became a mirror again as soon as her fingertips left it. Eamon turned her in his arms. “Ignorance is deadly, Etaín. Never believe otherwise.”
A bell tinkled. Relief surged into her when he said, “Our dinner has arrived,” and let the conversation drop as he escorted her to the dining room and seated her next to him.
The food was mouthwatering. Italian served with wine she was fairly certain couldn’t be found in a grocery or liquor store.
She was ravenous. Since the visit with Brianna she’d felt too sick to eat.
When the meal was finished he drew her up from her chair and into his arms. She went willingly, ready to return to their challenge and indulge in a different kind of dessert than the one she’d just eaten.
“Stay the night with me,” he said against her lips. “Here, if you prefer it to over going to the estate.”
She wanted to. She said, “I can’t.”
He gave a soft sigh. “Guessing at some of your activities today isn’t beyond me, Etaín. Tell me, did you visit Brianna Dunne today? Did you touch your palms to her skin? Is that why you seemed ill and weak when you arrived?”
“And if it is?”
“All gifts come at a cost. I told you the truth when I said you wouldn’t be able to continue managing yours as you have in the past. The longer you delay in learning how to control the magic that flows into you, the greater the risk to everyone you touch.”
His arms tightened around her. “And to you, Etaín. Especially to you if you perceive that your gift is changing.”
It was changing. She couldn’t deny it.
He’d provided an excuse to stay and his knowing meant there was no reason to deny the comfort she’d need later, after the dreams. But habit died hard.
She tried to muster the resolve to leave by thinking about Derric
k and what happened each time he allowed himself to fall in love or believe in permanence. Cathal and Eamon might both want her now, but it wouldn’t last. Or if it did, it would ultimately lead to an ultimatum to conform to a different set of expectations. Both of them moved about freely in the same elegant world the captain and his wife did.
She tried to pull away but Eamon captured her mouth with his, coaxing desire back into existence with the rub of his tongue against hers, with the slide of his hands up her sides to her breasts. Resistance fled with his touch, with heated need and an emptiness that would only end with the press of skin to skin and the joining of bodies.
“Say you’ll stay the night,” he whispered, his thumbs grazing over her nipples. “I think it’s likely you’ll succeed in seducing me.”
“I’ll stay,” she said, allowing him to lead her through the arched doorway and into the bedroom.
The dress fell away easily, becoming a silky pool of dark blue at her feet and leaving her in heels alone. “Dinner was a torment for me,” he murmured against her lips. “Sitting, making casual conversation, eating, all the while knowing you wore nothing beneath the dress I’d given you.”
“Most would say you brought it on yourself.”
Her hands went to the front of his shirt, fingers taking their time over each button as the fabric slowly parted to reveal smooth flesh and small, hardened nipples. She brushed her thumbs over them and was rewarded by the catch of his breath and a flush of need across his cheeks.
“Is this my punishment then?” he asked.
She kissed downward, tongue replacing the pad of her thumb, hands free to undo his belt and pants. “You tell me.”
Fire raced through him at the feel of her teeth grasping his nipple, her tongue a lash that whipped through his belly and encircled his cock. His hands met hers at the front of his trousers, anxious to have nothing separate them, to be inside her, bodies joined as intimately as their magic would ultimately be.
A shudder of ecstasy seized him as her hand grasped his cock and her mouth left his nipple, pressing kisses lower and lower as she sank gracefully to her knees, the naked curve of her buttocks not hiding the high-heeled shoes that were the only thing she still wore.