Inked Destiny (17 page)

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J
esus, he was beyond denial now. He couldn’t look away as Etaín continued to go down on Eamon. Couldn’t stop the up and down sweep of his hand on his shaft.

All he could think about was how much he wanted her mouth on him. Fuck, want was too tame a word. He was desperate for it.

A moan escaped. A pant followed.

He was burning up despite having shed his shirt. He was seconds away from coming on his chest and abdomen. His buttocks clenched as he remembered the way she’d ground her cunt against him the day before, ready to let him mark her with semen on her belly.

She finally stopped treating Eamon like a lollipop and came to him, eyes hot as she straddled him, sultry gaze promising ecstasy if he could survive long enough to experience it. Her lips were swollen, making him want to drag them downward.

“You could have made a fortune as a porn star,” he said, hand fisting in her hair.

She laughed. “Objectifying me now? Or offering to pass me on to one of your partners for representation?”

His lips pulled back. Instinctual baring. Possessiveness fully
present even if jealousy had been submerged beneath an onslaught of lust the moment she’d put her hand on his dick. “Never.”

She bent down, mouth going unerringly to his nipple. Tongue a hot caress, a lightning strike straight downward.

His hips jerked upward. He didn’t even pretend control of them. “Put your mouth on me. Suck me off like you did Eamon.”

Points for him for acknowledging they weren’t just a couple. Instead of making him beg, she slid downward, taking him in hand, taking him between her lips.

“More.”

Deeper. Harder.

And she gave him what he wanted.

Took him until there was only white noise and searing, addictive release. Ecstasy that ebbed into a sensual lethargy invading every cell until it was dissipated by the swirl of her tongue and pull of lips.

He began to harden again as Eamon had. Desire returning in a thick fog. “I want inside you.”

Etaín wanted it too, but the screeching, trumpeted, fingernails-over-chalkboard rendition of
Here Comes the Bride
coming in through the window was a distraction she couldn’t ignore. “We’re about to have company.”

“Derrick?” Cathal guessed.

“Derrick,” she confirmed, a glance at the sketched Dragon and a splinter of fear for Quinn making her hurry to refasten bra and shirt then hustle to the front door.

She half expected Liam to step out of a shadow and prevent her from opening it. Let him try, she thought, stepping outside, the strike of sunshine and hit of fresh air a promise of intoxicating freedom.

Derrick was in the process of turning to make another pass in front of the house. He punched the horn and gave the bike a shot of gas at the sight of her.

Apparently she was allowed to be more than a leash-distance away from Eamon. He didn’t join her or trail after her as two and three at a time she took the steps leading down to the wrought iron gate.

Temptation came when she stepped onto the sidewalk and Derrick pulled up next to her. It gripped her in a wild euphoric rush.

If she swung onto the seat behind him, he’d take off.
Run and keep running
.

Her mother’s life. Not hers. But a flash of aggravation came when she realized Myk had moved in close enough to grab her if she attempted escape.

Derrick cut the engine and removed his helmet.

“Quinn?” she asked, his confusion over the question answer enough.

“I am not his keeper
yet
.”

“Your timing sucks then.”

“And hello to you too.”

He got off the bike, enfolding her in a hug, rocking them slightly as she hugged him back with the same intensity, inhaling his familiar scent and feeling a deep sense of peace.

She needed Cathal and Eamon. But she needed this too, this
normal
in her life.

“I’ve never been so scared,” Derrick whispered, hot tears wetting the side of her face as he alluded to her being taken by the Harlequin Rapist.

“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual.” She rocked them harder, a ward against guilt. She should have done this first thing this morning, made a point of seeing her friends in person. In truth, she should have done it yesterday rather than settling for a call to let them know she was safe and that Cathal and Eamon had reached her in time.

She’d been injured and taken to a healer. And then there’d been
time with her men, the enforced sleep, the captain and Parker, the hospital…

Excuses
. Her arms tightened on him and she felt the burn of her own tears as fear spiked into her, at how easy it could be to lose touch with the people who mattered to her. “You know I love you.”

He took a loud, shuddering breath, rubbing his wet cheek against hers. “Enough of this B-movie melodrama.”

She laughed. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“We all have our skills, Etaín.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I love you too. You’re my best friend. Do you think maybe you could just stay out of trouble for a little while?”

“That’s what I was trying to do but someone’s obnoxious horn interrupted.”

He leaned away from her and grinned. “Oops. Sorry.” Though he absolutely didn’t sound it.

His hands went to the front of her shirt, undoing the buttons all the way down to her navel and redoing them so they actually lined up properly with their correct slots. Her body hummed with an awareness of the ink she’d put on him.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but did you come by just to act as the fashion police?”

“Your name is all in the news again because of the drive-by at the shelter. They’re also saying you were seen at the hospital last night—with your father and another policeman—visiting a victim in that shooting over in Oakland.” He touched his forehead to hers again. “Someone’s been keeping secrets.”

His voice was light, but it didn’t mask the pain. Even with the leather of his jacket between her palms and his skin, the hurt he felt ran up her arms to fist and squeeze her heart.

“That part of my life is so strange and fucked. It’s always just been easier to keep it separate.” And maybe some of her mother’s teachings had been too deeply ingrained to escape.

“If that’s an apology Etaín, it’s terrible.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“We’ll just have to work on that aspect of
sharing
in our relationship.”

“Says the man with a whole library of self-help books. How’d you know I was here?”

“I have my sources.”

She considered just what Derrick had interrupted. And what the seizure had interrupted before it. The point of visiting Sean personally was because he was a private investigator and good at what he did. Letting Sean direct the conversation might pry loose additional names and faces and facts, adding to the list of possible killers wearing her ink. But she already had enough for him to start with, and though she could give him the names over the phone, it made better sense to do some sketches then have Derrick deliver them.

“Come on,” she said, noting that Myk had retreated, his attention on their surroundings rather than on Derrick and her. “Let’s go inside.”

She stepped away from him, breaking the physical contact to reach for the gate and open it.

“Aren’t you going to invite that delicious example of a bodyguard to come with?”

“Stick to one boyfriend, Derrick. Two is twice the work and twice the headache.”

He laughed, following her into the TV room. Seeing both Cathal and Eamon, one with no shirt and the other with the buttons undone, Derrick stopped her with hands on her shoulders. “Oh you naughty, naughty girl, you.”

Heat crept up her neck and into her face. “You’re on the crotch rocket and wearing leather, usually that means you’re channeling your inner man.”

He lifted his hands, fingers clawing the air. “Meow, meow. Just how many secrets
are
you keeping?”

But at least this time Derrick emoted pure relish rather than hurt.

She made the official introductions then took a seat, grateful for an excuse to flip the sketch pad to a clean page and away from the picture of the Dragon waiting there like a storm warning now that the fun and games had been interrupted.

As she drew faces and the tattoos associated with them, she skirted the issue of magic and Elves and changes to her gift, though she shared some of the truth with Derrick. What she’d done in the past at the captain and Parker’s request. Why she’d been at the hospital and how she’d come to owe Anton the favor that had her standing with him in front of the shelter. She hoped as she did it, and then later, when she handed Derrick the finished sketches, that she wouldn’t come to regret involving him in this.

“Walk me back to my bike?”

“Definitely.”

When they got to it he said falsetto-voiced, “I am sooo jealous.”

“They are both gorgeous, aren’t they? Lucky me.”

He hugged her and his pain vibrated through her, sharp enough she felt the Dragon’s awareness in the heat racing through her tattoos, and that made her nearly jerk from his embrace. “I’m sorry,” she said.

His arms tightened. “We’ve been best friends for years, a lot longer than you’ve known them, but you trusted them—”

“Let’s not do this, Derrick. Please. I’ve got problems enough waiting for me inside. There’s more to all this than it’s safe to tell you right now, okay?”

“But you will tell me?”

“I’ll tell you what I can. When I can.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

He circled back. “What problems?”

“Two boyfriends. Twice the work when it comes to relationships.”

He buried his face in her hair, whispered, “Mr. Edible isn’t close enough to grab you this time. You could leave with me.”

“I’ve got a better plan.”

“Does it involve sex?”

“Yes.”

“Yummy. I think I’ll go see what Quinn is up to.”

Giving her a final hug, he left.

Etaín turned, pausing to take in Myk with his ass-length brown hair and beautiful features. Oh yeah.

One side of his mouth kicked up, turning stunning into mesmerizing. “If it pleases the Lady, I’d appreciate it if she didn’t mention the nickname.”

“I’ll think about it.” Though steps later, as she passed him, she couldn’t resist adding, “Mr. Edible.”

She entered the house, kicking off her shoes, unbuttoning and ridding herself of her shirt as she traveled down the hallway. The bra she discarded just as she reached the TV room. The best defense was a good offense.

Thirteen

S
tepping into the doorway, Etaín was suitably rewarded by very appreciative masculine glances. Her nipples beaded under their scrutiny. Her hands dropped to the front of her jeans, her labia instantly slick.

Eamon stood. Elegant, deadly grace and unmistakable power. She shivered at the prospect of taking him on while surrounded by one of the elements at his command. She licked her lips, wetting them. “In case either of you are interested, I’m going to relax in the hot tub. See you there—or not.”

Cathal laughed. As if either of them could resist the sight of her naked body.

The hell with it. He followed her example, stripping out of his clothes and letting them lie where they dropped on the trip outside. Tall hedges and the house’s position on the hill guaranteed privacy, at least from voyeurs.

A distinctive breeze kicked up when they neared the tub, smelling of tropical islands instead of the San Francisco bay. It swirled, gathering enough force to lift the pieces of the cover and carry them to the ground as though they were no more substantial than leaves.

“Useful,” he said, giving Eamon credit where credit was due, though he couldn’t take his eyes from Etaín as she slipped into the
water, disappearing from sight then emerging, skin glistening and nipples puckered, wet and making him want to kiss and lick every inch of her.

He got into the hot tub, Etaín’s smile beckoning so he reached for her, pulling her flush against his body for a kiss.

No regrets. Fuck, he could barely remember what life had been like without her in it.

The ink on his arms hummed. Magic. Desire. He didn’t care.

“Jesus I can’t get enough of you.”

Her hands glided over his ass, up his back, then down again. “The feeling is mutual.”

He claimed her mouth. Tongue thrusting and retreating, in sole possession as Eamon stripped, what they’d shared prior to Derrick’s arrival making it seem perfectly natural to allow space for Eamon’s hands on her breasts when he joined them in the water.

She moaned appreciatively. Rubbed against his cock, and by extension Eamon’s, both of them already hard for her.

Bed would have been a better destination. Hell, the couch in his entertainment room would have been. But he knew her well enough now to understand what she was up to though she had to know Eamon well enough to understand this was just a temporary reprieve from discussing the drawing of the Dragon.

His arms tightened on her with thoughts of it and the conversation that had followed with Eamon, desire taking on the edge of desperation. Christ, he couldn’t lose her.