Fuck, yeah. He closed his eyes as she lightly caressed him, her fingers almost tickling. A bit of a tease, and then those fingers would wrap around him, firmly, knowing what he liked. An extended tease this time, though, and he let her have it, enjoying the soft caresses. When that stopped, he waited for that firmer grip.
Instead he heard her break the surface behind him, coming up for air, but when he turned, he caught only a flash of skin as she dove.
He followed that pale streak. She stayed deep, swimming beneath him and then coming up, right in front, and what wrapped around him this time? Not her fingers.
He chuckled. Well, that was unexpected. Not unwanted, though.
Hell, yeah. Definitely not unwanted.
She continued to tease him, now with lips and tongue, sliding over him and then away, and he resisted the urge to encourage her to stay a little longer. She was playing, and this was perfectly fine as an appetizer.
Her lips moved over him, pulling him in deep.
Yeah, perfectly fine.
When she swam away, he waited patiently. He heard her break the surface, louder now. Then she chuckled, and there was a splash as she dove under.
He saw her clearer as she swam around him at waist level. Her fingers found his thigh again, less tickling, more caressing. They continued on until . . .
That was better. Her fingers wrapping firmly around him, expertly moving, making his eyes roll back as he hissed a breath.
Hand still on him, Liv surfaced, grinning. "Well, hello there."
He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into a hard kiss . . . while forgetting that he kinda needed his arms moving to stay afloat. They went under, Liv laughing and sputtering, her hand breaking contact as they resurfaced.
"Smooth as always," he said, making a face.
"Enthusiastic is better than smooth." She swam back to him and traced her fingers across his stomach. "Shall I continue?"
"Hell, yeah."
She smiled as her fingers wrapped around him.
"You can continue the other part, too," he said. "If you want."
"Other part?"
"The underwater blow job?"
Her hand stopped moving. "I . . . wasn't . . ." She paused and then let out a whoop of laughter. "Oh-ho. It seems someone was enjoying the attentions of the resident water fae. No wonder you were ready for action when I swam up."
"What?"
His expression made her laugh again, and her hand closed on him, lighter now, more teasing, but not as light as earlier. This was Liv-teasing. Not the stuff he'd had a few minutes ago.
Shit.
"Resident water fae?" he said carefully.
"Something grabbed my foot and yanked me out of an underwater cavern. You got a whole other kind of yanking. I'm jealous."
He had to laugh and relaxed, letting himself enjoy her ministrations again. The fact she'd resumed them should suggest she wasn't the least bit upset that he'd been inadvertently enjoying another's ministrations, but he had to consider the possibility. This was Liv, though, not the kind of woman who'd give him shit for enjoying something he'd mistakenly thought came from her.
"So, underwater blowjob," she said. "I'll have to try that."
"Feel free. Anytime. Now would be awesome."
A chuckle. "True, and I will . . . but first, I believe we have a mystery to solve."
"It can wait."
"Mmm, no, I don't think it can. Let's see. If I stop doing this"--her hand fell away--"and move out of the way like this"--she swam backward--"will our mysterious water nymph return?"
She swam a little farther. "Head this way so you can get your footing."
He followed, and when she motioned for him to stop, his foot hit the rocky bottom just as a pale shape swam past.
"Uh . . . ," he said.
"I see."
The fae swam around his hips. Her fingers reached out again to caress his thighs.
"You want me to catch her?"
"Well, you could try, but I think it makes more sense to let her settle in. Distract herself. Unless you'd rather she didn't."
"Would you rather she didn't?"
Liv grinned. "If I did, I wouldn't be suggesting it. But if you're uncomfortable with this particular game, just say so."
The fae's fingers moved between his legs and found what they were searching for.
"I wouldn't say uncomfortable," he murmured.
Liv's grin grew. "Then enjoy. And since I canceled the earlier performance, this one seems like a fine substitute."
He slitted his eyes and groaned softly, doing exactly as ordered and enjoying. When the fae's lips went around him, he opened one eye to check Liv, saying, "She's--"
"Oh, I can see. Not well, but enough to know exactly what she's doing. Is it good?"
"Good enough."
"Excellent." She said that genuinely, no hint of discomfort, of unease, and while she watched him, he watched her, pupils dilated, teeth biting her lip.
Fuck, yeah.
"I don't think I'll be able to replicate the don't-need-to-breathe part," Liv said. "Damn. I may be outmatched."
"Nah. She's a bit of a light touch. Having you watching, though, definitely elevates the experience."
"Kinda hot?"
"Fucking hot."
"Good. Mind if I take a better look? For study purposes. So I can properly replicate the experience."
"Go for it."
Liv slipped under the water. She was careful, but the fae broke free and swam off, gone in a flash.
Liv broke the surface and gulped air, saying, "Shit, I'm sorry."
He answered by pulling her into a deep kiss then saying, "That was just the amuse-bouche. This is what I want."
He carried her to the bank, still kissing. When he started boosting her up onto the rocks, though, she said, "Uh-uh," and scooted out from his grip, presumably remembering the game, and he was about to say fuck that, he'd forfeit. But she was only turning him around, now putting his back to the rocky edge. Then she kissed him again, her arms around his neck, his around her waist. He started easing onto the rock, boosting her up to straddle him, but she held back, saying, "I do believe I promised something else entirely," kissed him on the chin and started working her way down.
"You don't have to," he said.
She grinned up at him. "I want to. I've been inspired."
"I sure won't stop you, but I'm not sure how well it will work when you can't breathe underwater."
"Inspired and challenged. No fae mermaid is showing me up."
He was about to say that wasn't possible, but she was already under the water and . . .
He arched back into the rocky wall, eyes closing as his hips rose to meet her. The fae's efforts had been a very fine tease, particularly with an audience, but this was what he wanted.
When he heard Liv come up and gasp for air, he reached to pull her the rest of the way, to say that was good enough, but she'd only surfaced for breath and then went back down and fuck, yes.
He reached under the water, his fingers in her hair, careful not to hold her down but wrapping his fingers in her hair as she moved.
He closed his eyes and remembered her expression, watching him, curiosity and genuine pleasure and excitement, watching as--
Thunder rolled through the sky, and while that might make a perfectly fine metaphor, when he looked up, he saw actual lightning flash.
Liv surfaced and the thunder came again.
"Damn," she murmured. "That's not good."
He started to say it was fine, put his hands on her head and guide her back down and--
Lightning flashed. While they were standing in a pool of water.
"Fuck," he said.
"Don't worry. I won't leave you hanging. Just give me a minute."
She started going back down.
He put his hand on her arm, stopping her.
"No?" she said.
"Pretty sure there's a game in progress," he said.
She smiled. "I'll
give you a pass on this. Just let me finish before that--"
More thunder, and he was acutely aware they were under trees and in water, and while part of him--a very particular part--said fuck it, the pause was enough for him to reconsider not just the weather but the game.
Did he really want a quick blowjob before the storm rolled in? He might have been grumbling about the game, but he had been enjoying the tease. The build up. When it ended, he wanted a helluva lot more than a quick fix--for both of them.
Ricky put his hands under Liv's arms and hoisted her up. "Sorry, I know you want to, but unless you forfeit, I'm afraid you have to wait."
"Damn. I was just getting the hang of it."
"Well, if you want more practice, there's a town nearby, and it's late enough to stop."
"We can come back tonight?"
"If you insist."
"Oh, I do. Mysteries to solve, and all that."
He grinned. "And all that."
Four - Liv
I hadn't told Ricky about the castle in the cavern. I would. It wasn't as if I'd seen this wondrous and impossible thing and then--sex!--promptly forgot it. But sometimes, I need to take the more important things and set them aside until I have time to get them straight in my mind. Sex is the perfect distraction for that, particularly when it comes in the form of such a unique encounter.
The memory of it made me grin as I hugged Ricky's back, my arms wrapped around him, wind rushing past as we outran the storm. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the sheer joy of the ride, ripping along those winding mountain roads.
And if there was any other reason why I held off telling him . . . another reason I'd been very grateful for the distraction of the lady of the lake . . . well, I was letting the tantalizing memories of that encounter and the thrill of the motorcycle ride wash away those, too.
The truth? When I'd seen that shimmering gold castle, my first thought had been, "Well, this is a little improbable." My second? I can't wait to tell Gabriel.
Gabriel is the one who's been at my side from the start of this journey. The one who'd been with me when we discovered the secret of Cainsville, refuge for Welsh fae. When we'd discovered our own connection to it, our fae blood. When we'd discovered my role as the embodiment of Mallt-y-Nos, Matilda of the Hunt. And then . . .
And then his role. As Gwynn.
You dream of some fairy prince and say I'm him?
He'd later accepted that and apologized for his initial reaction. But I could not forget how it felt, getting that from the one person who'd supported me through all of this, the person who'd helped me accept it when I just wanted to scream, "Y'all are fucking crazy."
I'd seen that castle in the cavern and instantly wanted to tell Gabriel. We'd debate whether it could be a vision, an omen or something more. Then we'd take it to Rose and see if she could find anything like it in human folklore. To Patrick next, for the fae version. We'd--
We'd do none of that. And it wasn't just because I was almost two thousand miles away. I could still call Gabriel, talk to him, ask him to investigate. We'd parted on good terms, me just taking off on vacation. No big deal.
Except it hadn't been the same between us. I feared it never would be. That I'd never take anything like this to him again. Never want to.
Which was fine. I could talk to Ricky. He'd be just as keen to hear it, just as keen to hash it out and solve the mystery. He's the one I should have been relying on all along. The one I could trust. It'd just taken me far too long to figure that out.
#
It was a little early to stop for the day, but neither of us really had to get back to Chicago on exactly the date we'd planned. Ricky was done school for the term. I had work, but I'd built in a two-day buffer, and Gabriel had already made it clear I could take more, yet another way of apologizing for what had happened.
So despite the fact it was only late afternoon, we'd booked ourselves into an inn for the night, and now we were enjoying the late-day sun on an otherwise-empty tavern back deck. The locals were all inside, the server saying it was "a mite hot" for sitting out. The mercury hadn't even hit eighty, but apparently, that was a heat wave here. So we had the deck and the gorgeous mountain view to ourselves along with a couple of ice-cold local beers and a heaping basket of steamed mussels.
Ricky was on the phone to his dad. They'd had business to discuss first, and he'd taken the call off the deck for that part. Given that the family business is organized crime, discretion is always wise, especially when I'm the investigator for their legal firm. Even if they won't be openly discussing business, it's safer if I can honestly claim full deniability.
Of course I know what they do for a living. Perfectly legit business ventures make up more than half the Satan's Saints' revenue, but when Ricky wanted to lay all the cards on the table, that wasn't the part he talked about. If anything, he downplayed the legitimate side. It's the rest--the drugs and the gun-running--that matters. And I'm okay with that. My parents are in prison, serving life sentences for murders that my mother did commit. My boss is a defense attorney whose ethical code could be written on the back of a postage stamp. I'm okay with all of it. There's too much fae in my blood to feel differently.
What matters to me is that Ricky was happily chatting to his dad, and their relationship is one of the best I've ever seen. What matters to me is that when the server came out, he would put the phone aside, and he'd be friendly and polite and generous with the tip. What matters to me is that even as he talked to his father, he would find ways to include me in the conversation, comments and asides. What matters to me, then, is him: the guy, not the member of the biker gang.
I'm especially happy that Ricky and his dad have gotten over their own rough patch, one I'd inadvertently caused. Don Gallagher knows nothing of the fae world beyond the stories his mother told him, both of them unaware they were more than stories. But something in his Cwn Annwn blood senses it, told him Ricky should stay away from me, leave me for Gabriel. That was safe. For all of us, but mostly for Ricky.
I wouldn't say Don has changed his mind. He likes me well enough, just not necessarily as Ricky's girlfriend. But he has accepted me and any tension between them has eased.
Now, as they talked, Ricky pulled the phone away and said, "Dad's wondering if you can send him some photos. He wants to see them, maybe pass on a few to my mom."
"Sure."
He scooted his chair over as I flipped through photos on my phone. There were some pure scenery shots, but most were of one of us in front of that scenery. Otherwise, five years from now, I'd be going through them, saying, "Forest, ocean, mountain, more ocean, more . . ." Put Ricky in the shot, and it would trigger a memory instead--"Oh, yes, that was the amazing stretch of winding road where we saw a whale breach out in the water."
As I went through the photos, Ricky said, "That one and that one," and each of those photos sparked a memory, every one making me smile. I was on yesterday's batch when he said, "Oh, definitely that one."
It was a good shot. The two of us in the mouth of a cave, the ocean behind us, white-crested waves crashing. It was a rare selfie--well, a dual selfie, neither of us being much into taking pics of ourselves. I'd been holding the phone up, and he was grinning at the camera, his hair flying back in the wind, hazel eyes bright, arm around my shoulders. At the last second, I'd planted a kiss on his cheek and snapped it as my lips made contact.
"Send it to me, too," he said. "New background for my phone."
I e-mailed it, and as he talked to his dad, I glanced at the photo again. I looked so happy. We both did. Ecstatically and unabashedly happy. Just one such moment in a week filled with them. Giddy and carefree and in love. To think that only a couple of weeks ago I'd considered ending it, just to open the door for--
My phone rang. The second I heard the ringtone, my fingers flew to the Ignore button, guilt stabbing through me, as if I'd somehow conjured up this call just thinking of him.
Ricky covered his phone and said, "You should t
ake that."
"It's just--"
"It's Gabriel. I know. And I also noticed you have two unanswered calls from him this afternoon. He's trying to get in touch with you."
Then he can text me.
That wasn't fair, of course. Gabriel was my boss. Even on vacation, ignoring his calls was irresponsible.
Ricky motioned that he'd move his call elsewhere, but I told him to stay and took mine down the steps, off the deck. I phoned Gabriel back.
"Hey," I said when he answered. "What's up?"
His deep voice resonated down the line. "You were working on the Fisher case before you left, correct?"
"I was."
"I need to check something in the file."
"Okay, well, it's in that place that the files go. The filing cabinet."
"I didn't see it," he said, but I heard the sound of his footsteps and then the click of the filing cabinet drawer, the whoosh of it opening. "Oh, yes. It's here."
"It's also scanned and entered in the handy new digital repository, which someone needs to start using, considering he's the one who suggested I set it up."
My tone was light, just giving him a hard time, same old Olivia. Maybe I overdid it. Or he just wasn't in the mood. Either way, he didn't respond, and I listened to him flipping through the pages.
"Any questions?" I asked.
"No."
"All right, then. Well, you have the file, so I'll let you--"
"How is the trip?"
I could wax on about the scenery. Tell some quirky little story about fellow travelers. Even relay an interesting tidbit of local history. All of which he'd listen to with an impatience that would fairly strum over the phone line.
"Good," I said simply.
A pause, as if he might actually be hoping for more. I cleared my throat. "Yesterday we saw a--"
"Is everything all right?"
"Um, yes . . . Why?"
"Nothing happened today?" He blurted. Then he cleared his throat. "I mean . . . the motorcycle. I'm not certain it's safe to be riding a motorcycle through mountains. That's where you are, yes? Mountains?"
"The Cape Breton Highlands. They're an extension of the Appalachians, relatively low."
"Yes, yes, but it seems dangerous on a motorcycle. You haven't had any incidents, have you? Today, perhaps? I thought I heard thunder over the line."
I looked up at the perfectly clear sky. "Well, there was a storm earlier, but we outran it."
The Orange Cat and Other Cainsville Tales Page 5