Inked Magic (21 page)

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 genes.

“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.

C
athal’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.

Her cunt lips grew flushed and swollen imagining herself there with Cathal, seeing the gleam of sweat on his back as his muscles rippled and hips pistoned as a fire blazed in the fireplace.

A shiver of need went through her. A flash of want. Arousal soaked her panties and wet her inner thighs.

Since she’d arrived at his club, he’d maintained near-constant physical contact with her. That she liked it so much should have made her want to bolt.

He turned into her, running his hands down the length of her back. “Like what you see?”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll have to convince you otherwise.” His smile was wickedly sensuous, dark sin and carnal taunt. His hand bold decadence as it moved from her bare leg, then up, forcing its way between her thighs and underneath her skirt. Finding her wet there. Hot and needy with her clit swollen and firm.

He cupped her mound. Pressed the heel of his hand to her clit, eliciting a soft whimper.

“Deny that I satisfied you earlier. Deny that you want me again. Here. Now. Any way I want to take you.”

His voice was husky, revealing just how affected he was at finding her wet and ready for him.

He bit down on the sensitive skin beneath her ear, warning and dare alike when it came to answering with a lie.

This time she was the one to discard her purse and jacket then pull her skirt up, leaving his zipper and the minuscule panties the only barriers to penetration.

“Etaín,” he said, moving into her until the wall blocked any further retreat, the raggedness of his voice pleasing her, too.

“What happened to your promise not to fuck me against the wall the moment we got through your front door?”

She knew she was playing a dangerous game with him and with herself. He was like a drug delivered straight to her bloodstream, a growing addiction she couldn’t afford, just as Eamon was.

Cathal forced himself to step back though he couldn’t break the physical contact. A few seconds longer, enough time to free his
cock and rip those panties downward, and it would have been too
late.

Fuck, he could come just looking at her standing there with her skirt hiked up, displaying a tanned, flat belly and a cunt covered by his hand and lacy strips of nothing.

“You’re right,” he said, smoothing his palm over her clit and reveling in the sharp catch of her breath and little mew of pleasure.

Somehow he managed to draw his hand away. A tour was out, not that he’d managed to give her much of one at the club either when she’d first arrived.

“This way,” he said, taking a straight path to a garden made private by tall hedges.

The stars and moon were bright, perfect for enjoying the night, but he didn’t need any of it with Etaín. At the club, inside his front door, he’d rushed, but outside, steam rising from the water after he removed the hot tub cover, he found the patience to take his time with her, to savor and memorize everything about her.

“Take the blouse off,” he ordered, denying himself touch in favor of solidifying his control over himself.

Her smile said she guessed at the reason behind his command. Or maybe it was only an acknowledgment she could play this game, too.

Her fingers went to the top button, slowly freeing it before moving to the next, and the one after that in a strip tease guaranteed to bring him to his knees by the time it was done. Arousal escaped, wetting the tip of his cock as he waited for the first sight of her naked breasts, wondered at the color and size of her nipples.

Her blouse fluttered to the ground and he nearly dropped his hand to his erection in case he needed to use a painful grip to keep from taking her down then and there. The bra matched the panties, revealing almost as much as it concealed.

She was beautifully formed, everything about her pure seduction. She was a siren capable of leading a man to his destruction.

Words caught in his throat but he didn’t need to command her to take the bra off. Fingers smoothed over the front clasp, teasing him, tormenting him. Her expression sultry and knowledgeable, promising pleasure and delivering a small measure of it when the scrap of material followed the blouse to the ground.

The sight of her mesmerized him. He couldn’t look away. Could barely breathe when she cupped her breasts, brushing her thumbs over dark pink nipples that begged for a man’s mouth to capture and suck them.

His cock throbbed. His testicles felt full and heavy with the need to come inside the hot, wet clasp of her channel.

He didn’t want to wear a rubber. He didn’t want anything separating him from the ecstasy to be found in her body.

She licked her lips. He thought he’d lose all control if he saw her touch either mouth or tongue to her nipples.

He grabbed her wrists. “Now my shirt.”

She took her sweet time about it. Peeling his shirt away as slowly as she’d done her blouse.

It fluttered to the ground and she combed her fingers through the hair on his chest. He moaned when she zeroed in on his nipples, rubbing and tweaking until his breathing was little more than shallow, quick inhalations of air.

His hips jerked when she touched her mouth to first one nipple and then the other, wetting them with her tongue as her hands slid downward to his pants.

He didn’t stop her from freeing his cock. Only toed off his shoes and socks before kicking away his fallen trousers and Jockeys.

At her sloe-eyed look of appreciation, his cock strained toward her, begging for her attention. She gave it, taking him in hand, filling his head with the roar of lust as the fingers encircling his shaft moved up and down on it.

He nearly begged her to put her mouth on him. Only managed not
to because he knew it would be all over the instant her lips and tongue touched him.

He forced her to halt by once again securing a wrist. “The rest of it comes off first.”

She reached behind her with her free hand. A tug of the zipper and she stood in short boots and panties.

He couldn’t take any more. Patience and the willingness to delay sexual gratification went up in flames. The only thing mattering was touch and taste and getting inside her.

He ripped her panties downward, baring her except for the boots with their thin, fuck-me heels. The image of her standing like that burned into his memory, an erotic centerfold to revisit time and time again.

As he’d done in his office, he crowded her until she was pressed against a wide padded ledge circling the hot tub. She sat as she’d done on the desk, thighs splayed, willing to take him between them.

The sight of her parted folds and glistening slit reinforced a primal imperative, this time he wouldn’t settle for less than everything. He grasped her thighs, holding her open as he lowered his mouth to her.

The scent of aroused woman filled his nostrils, the scent of her. A small triangle of rich gold pointed downward but he didn’t need the direction. Pink wet flesh and an engorged clit begged for the stroke of his tongue and feel of his lips.

He moaned at the first taste of her, sweet honey and addictive spice. Grew more excited with each lift of her hips as she pushed her clit between his lips, as she forced his tongue deeper into her channel.

She was so uninhibited and responsive, giving him everything. The sounds she made a stroke to his ego, an acknowledgment of the pleasure she found with him.

They were a declaration she didn’t care if the neighbors heard and knew how thoroughly he possessed her. Crying out, she came and he was helpless against the roar of lust, the heated demand of his cock to claim her.

He tumbled her backward, pausing to tug the boots off before coming down on top of her. “Tell me you’re on the pill,” he demanded. “I’m safe. Tell me you are.”

The hungry clamping of her channel brought with it the same raw need Etaín had experienced with Eamon. It overrode a lifetime of never letting any lover—even those she’d taken during her drug-ridden teen years—enter her without a barrier between them.

“I’ve only been with one other man that way. Eamon.”

Cathal’s expression turned dangerous at hearing the name, at being reminded she’d been with another man the night before. A little thrill went through her at seeing the savage intensity, the smoldering emotion before his mouth took hers in a hard kiss, sharing the carnal taste of her own arousal as he found her opening and pushed inside with nothing between them.

She shivered as waves of ecstasy rippled through her. It felt so good. So right.

Her arms and legs tightened around him. Her tongue met his thrust for thrust, her hips lifting with the desperate need to take him deeper.

She expected a fast hard fuck given the jealous fury radiating from him. She wanted it.

But he gave her slow. Drawing it out. Making her plead with her body and her voice, making her clamp down on him in release before he let go, pounding with a relentlessness that drove her up and over again, the third time opening the floodgates of exhaustion.

Without him lifting and sinking into the hot tub with her settled on his lap, she doubted she would have been able to summon the energy to roll into the water. “This is nice,” she said, cuddling against him, her palm resting against his chest, her fingers combing lazily through the thick mat of hair, pausing to circle a small brown nipple.

She was totally sated, tired to the point of being unable to keep her eyes open. She was at her weakest in terms of having any control over her gift.

Usually she avoided touching the men she’d been with when she felt like this. She knew too well the cost of it, had learned that painful lesson when she was a teen, unwittingly stripping a boyfriend of his music the night before he was supposed to play to an audience.

It should be easy to pull her hand away from Cathal, to quit petting him. Fear should have made it an imperative, but the hum of contentment overrode it. It was a continuation of what she’d felt earlier, only muted and mellowed, a low-level buzz of desire creating an electric heat, an internal barrier she was coming to believe would keep him safe from her gift.

Conversation was beyond her. She let herself drift, her reality filtering in through her senses. Hot water and cold air. Cathal and the scent of jasmine. The caress of moonlight and the brush of his lips against her neck, her ear.

“You’re falling asleep on me,” he murmured, the purr of masculine satisfaction in his voice making her smile.

“And you don’t bear any of the responsibility for it?”

He laughed and stood, holding her in his arms as if it were nothing and then setting her on the ledge where he’d stretched her out earlier. “Time for bed. There are towels in the deck box between the lounge chairs.”

Her skin pebbled with goose bumps. She slipped off the ledge and went to the cluster of patio furniture, getting towels for both of them as he covered the hot tub.