the swirl of them over her clit.
Her hips jerked when he reached the engorged nub, and then his did when he found her wet, ready for him, her lower lips plump and parted. He abandoned the other breast in favor of freeing his cock, saw the flash of feminine triumph in her expression and nearly answered with a predatory smile of his own.
“Put your hands on the mirror, Etain.”
She complied, far enough away from it so her upper body now angled forward and gave him an advantage she hadn’t counted on. Rather than sheath himself, he slid his cock between her thighs, stroking over swollen flesh and erect clit without allowing her the release of orgasm or the satisfaction of having him inside her.
It wasn’t without cost.
Each stroke was as much an agony of denial as it was a sensual victory. Each clamping of her thighs and spasming of her labia against him was a heated reminder of the ecstasy he was denying them both.
Arousal beaded at the tip of his penis, pre-cum lubrication no longer needed given how thoroughly prepared Etain’s readiness had made him. On a groan he surrendered, nearly coming as she tightened in a merciless demand for a fierce taking.
Now their position worked to her advantage, giving her leverage to thrust backward and force him deeper, then deeper still. Until the ocean roared in his head, a powerful surge that left him helpless as his body followed suit in a hot rush of ecstasy.
He placed a hand next to Etain’s, the other one sliding around to her abdomen to keep her from moving so he could remain inside her. As the fog of satisfaction lingered, he triggered the spell bound in the mirror covering the wall, yielding to the desire to see what wearing her ink might mean for him.
Color exploded beneath their palms and spread across the expanse in a swirling capture of power, a mix of elements that told him nothing about himself though the wild, unbound nature of the movements vibrated like a precursor to violence and made him want to take Etain to the estate, willing or not.
“Hoping to see the Dragon?” she joked.
“Hardly.” He let the spell go and reluctantly pulled from her sheath, guiding her to the shower.
A hand on his chest prevented him from joining her beneath the spray of water. “The tattoos shouldn’t get wet.”
“Easy enough to prevent.” He modified a defensive spell so a shield formed to cover skin and ink. “One of the many benefits of magic.”
“And this is another one?” she asked moments later, when water and the rub of her slick skin, the touch of her hand had him hard again, ready again.
“A delay tactic, Etain?”
Her husky laugh might be acknowledgement or invitation. “And if it is one?”
With strength unaided by magic, he lifted her and felt the ever-present thrill at her responsiveness when sleek legs wrapped around his waist, wet opening and hot female flesh made available for him. If he allowed it, she’d tease and torment before ultimately satisfying the fierce craving her presence in his life had created in him.
“Put me inside you,” he ordered, voice a harsh whipping wind. “Or we’ll go downstairs without finishing this.”
Desire was a flash of fire in her eyes, the promise of sexual retaliation in the future and one he looked forward to. She gripped his cock, obeyed, but on her own terms, allowing only inches into her slit, her hand a warden preventing him from escaping into complete ecstasy.
He slammed his mouth down on hers, demanded she take him all the way in with the thrust of his tongue, with a hand going to her breast as he held her pinned to the shower wall. His fingers captured a nipple, pain in the pursuit of pleasure.
The jerk of her hips and grind of her pelvis signaled her need for deeper penetration. It was a prelude that moments later had her freeing him, legs a tight clamp, holding all of him inside her as she clung, writhed, and finally came, the ripple and squeeze of her sheath a demand he answered with head thrown back and near violent release.
“Delay it is,” he murmured, lingering in the shower, the strike of water against his skin a sensual refilling, the intimacy between them pouring into the wellspring of his soul. Desire reawakened when finally they left the shower, and she took her time dressing, making him envious of the clothing he’d purchased for her, making him fantasize about removing it in a fire-flash of magic.
“Ready?” he asked.
Etain took his offered hand, remaining silent rather than lie. Ready? No. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be, but that didn’t change a damn thing.
They rode the elevator to a lower floor. “A little detour,” he said, guiding her into what was clearly his office given the quality of the artwork. Extensive windows along one wall were a summons she couldn’t ignore. When she stopped in front of them, it wasn’t the view of San Francisco that drew her attention, but the private terrace below, every table occupied by the wealthy and powerful, with some of the famous thrown in for good measure.
Not her world. Even when she’d lived with the captain, she hadn’t been a part of it. Physically present, yes, when she was young there hadn’t been a way to avoid it, but mentally, she’d learned at eight it was better to retreat. No knife was sharper than words wielded by jealous girls or hate-filled stepsisters, and for a time, she’d been vulnerable.
Perhaps if she’d been a boy, or homely, but she’d been neither. And then the call to ink had come, and with it, unknown then to her, Elven allure, and that had only made things harder at school and at home.
Eamon came up behind her, enfolding her in a hug and chasing away thoughts of the past. “You stepped through my wards on that first visit, interrupting my work and drawing me to the window. The moment I looked down and saw you, I knew you’d be mine.”
“Despite the fact I was with Cathal.”
“A minor complication.”
“Fighting words if he heard you say them.”
“Perhaps.” He touched his lips to her neck and she felt him smile as he added, “Probably.”
A sucking bite followed, then another, and a third, before he sighed, murmuring, “You have a disastrous effect on my intentions.”
She laughed. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Those who know me best would say yes.”
“The bodyguards?”
“And my second in command, Rhys.”
Warm lips were replaced by the cool touch of a collar-like necklace.
The switch didn’t go unnoticed.
Like a heated charge of electricity down her arms and around her wrists, the alien awareness of the Dragon came, there long enough to determine no threat existed but even that was long enough to make her pulse beat against the collar like a prisoner against a cell door.
Eamon’s mouth brushed her ear. “Relax, Etain. It’s merely a piece of jewelry, something enhanced by your beauty, an item to complement the outfit, nothing more.”
“You didn’t sense the flare of magic just then?”
“I am always aware of your magic. It constantly twines with mine.” He kissed her neck. “But it was the rush of your heartbeat that gave your nervousness away. For you, perhaps it was accompanied by a different sensation. For changelings especially, emotion and magic are often experienced together.”
A hand at her elbow guided her to an attached bathroom. Her breath caught at the sight of opals inlaid into an intricate twist of gold, dark stones that reminded her of the mirror with its captured fire and water.
“And here I was worried about it being a studded dog collar,” she said to mask a sudden nervousness at seeing a woman who looked like she belonged among the restaurant patrons, instead of one who enjoyed talking trash with clients and fellow artists.
His tender smile made her heart flutter. “A studded dog collar? I’d worry your friend Bryce might decide to claim my gift if you happened to take it off at the shop.”
Her eyes jerked upward to meet his, happiness spreading through her at what his words implied. “He does
