She laughed, knowing her effect on him, the sound of her amusement a sensual caress, a taunt that had him burrowing his fingers through the wheat-gold strands of her hair again, his clothes no longer mattering.
“Do it,” he ordered.
And she did.
Slowly. In her own time.
Delivering ecstasy with the touch of her tongue to his cock head, with wet swirls and flicked exploration.
Delivering punishment with the barest incarceration of it between her lips, with tormenting hints of suction.
Fire burned in his testicles as she cupped them, her touch a craving that had already lodged itself in his soul.
A light sheen of sweat coated his skin as he worked desperately against the restraint of her fist. Trying to drive himself into her mouth and the nearly unbearable pleasure to be found there.
She gave. An inch at a time. White heat filling his head with each one of them. Each pull of her mouth delivering a lesson. His body didn’t belong to him. It belonged to her.
“Finish it,” he said, fingers sliding through her hair, trying to urge her to take all of him. But she refused to hurry and give him the release he thought he’d die without.
E
amon stopped in front of the apartment door. He’d given Cathal long enough to make his case with Etaín, and Etaín long enough to decide whether or not she wanted Cathal in her life. Time now to put Cathal to a different test, and to remind Etaín that another had a claim to her.
He traced a glyph into the wooden door, delivering a magical announcement of his presence, pausing for a moment to allow her to feel the whisper of a tropical-scented breeze where there could be none, before he knocked.
Through the barrier separating them he heard Cathal’s voice, a ragged curse of pleasure interrupted, followed by a command to ignore the summons. Eamon smiled, but his amusement lasted only until she opened the door.
The sight of her swollen lips and another man’s shirt covering her
body shredded organized thought and left only the incendiary combination of magic and sex in its place. He wanted her. Here. Now. Always. Everything about her called to him, making it easy to forget the myriad dangers she presented, the change to Elf she had yet to survive.
He stepped forward, tearing his eyes away from her just long enough to meet Cathal’s gaze in challenge and acknowledgment.
Leave or join me in this.
His fingers went to the buttons of his own shirt, freeing them before he shrugged it off, leaving him standing bare-chested as Cathal was. He felt the heat and fast currents of his magic combine with the wild, primordial aspects of hers, saw an awareness of it in the black, deep ocean depths of eyes he could get lost in.
“Perfect timing,” Etaín said, molten lust flooding into her bloodstream, a fever heralding desire beyond reasoning. Leaving her nipples aching and arousal wetting her inner thighs as fantasy and reality merged at having both men with her at the same time.
Eamon reached for her, undoing the buttons of the shirt and stripping it away. She moaned, wanting them both.
She expected him to pull her into his arms and take possession of her mouth in a demonstration of ownership. Instead he moved behind her, turning her so they both faced Cathal.
He cupped her breasts as if in an offer to share, his touch and the eroticism of their positioning making her channel clench. A whimper escaped when his thumbs brushed over her nipples and she saw Cathal’s eyes fix on them, darkening not with jealousy but with passion.
He closed the distance, his cock rigid against the front of his hastily fastened pants. She wondered if it was still wet from her mouth, licked her lips thinking about it, and knew by the hitch in his breathing he was remembering her mouth being on him.
She lifted her arms, hands spearing through Eamon’s hair, the stretch of her body, the offering of it, making her feel like a sexual priestess, a follower of some ancient goddess dedicated to pleasure.
She widened her stance and the movement drew Cathal’s gaze downward to swollen folds and a clit standing erect, flushed, the hood pulled back to reveal a tiny darkened head.
Color fanned across stubbled cheeks taut with lust, exciting her further. He was raw to Eamon’s refined. Dark, dangerous masculinity to Eamon’s golden beauty. Together they were everything she would ever need or want in a lover.
A shiver went through her when Cathal stopped inches away. The vines on her arms didn’t react to him the same way they did to Eamon, the call of like to like, magic to magic, but deep inside her, something resonated, hungered for him, reached out in reaction to his scent and his nearness as if it would anchor itself in his very existence.
The intensity of the feeling sent a spike of fear through her, but before it could lodge itself and spread, Eamon’s fingers clamped onto her nipples and his mouth captured her earlobe, need forcing a plea from her. “Please, Cathal. I want you, too.”
Cathal took the final step so their bodies touched, lust soaking through his skin like a drug despite an awareness of Eamon’s hands on her breasts. Desire suppressed all resistance and separated him from any objection to sharing her. He couldn’t think, couldn’t remember why he’d fought against the very idea of it, not when it turned him on to see them together, to see her skin flush with pleasure, her eyes bottomless pools of promised ecstasy.
He wanted to lose himself in her. To pull the same sounds from her that she gave Eamon as he sucked her lobe, leaving it to fuck into her ear canal so her hips jerked.
Cathal panted as her cunt ground into a cock craving the wet heat of either her mouth or slit. He captured her lips, thrust his tongue against hers and was rewarded by whimpers and the urgent press of her clit to his erection.
He couldn’t stand the separation, didn’t wait for her to reach down and free him as she had before Eamon’s arrival. A moan escaped as his pants dropped away and hot skin touched hot skin.
He cupped her hips, need pulsing between them as he rubbed against her clit, constrained from lifting her and sheathing himself in heated ecstasy by Eamon’s presence behind her.
Greedily he kissed downward, ready to rip Eamon’s fingers from her nipple if necessary, but instead of finding confrontation, he found cooperation, the dark eroticism of a breast offered, held for him by another man.
Cathal latched on to the nipple, greeting it first with the swirl of his tongue. Lapping over it, biting then sucking, loving the way she cried out.
His hand went to her mound, covering it possessively, fingers going to her opening and thrusting inside. She was wet, dripping with the need for a man’s cock.
He fucked her with his fingers and she writhed between them, powerless. And that powerlessness excited him after being so desperately in her thrall since he’d met her.
The urge to dominate rose, bringing with it images of her on elbows and knees, the remembered rush of mounting her. It came with heightened anticipation, the promise of a more intense experience at having Eamon there to witness the claiming, to cover her afterward.
He gripped his cock to keep from coming. He was primed, ready, and had been from the instant she’d put her mouth on him after their reconciliation.
Remembering the torment she’d delivered, the lesson in ownership, he left her breast, intent on delivering the same to her. Kissing downward, pausing to explore her navel, the flat perfection of her abdomen, nuzzling into the dark honey of a small triangle of pubic hair.
Her plea for him to put his mouth on her filled him with carnal satisfaction. Her clit was engorged, an erogenous zone he had no intention of ignoring. He knew what she liked, intended to make her scream with pleasure as he had after stretching her out on the padded rim of the hot tub beneath a night sky.
She bucked when he took the swollen knob between his lips, her
hands leaving Eamon’s hair to tangle in his so she could hold him to her.
He tightened his grip on his cock, knowing he couldn’t hold out much longer. Fierce competitiveness and masculine pride refused to let him come as he had when he’d been alone, splashing his stomach and chest with semen while fantasizing about her.
Intentions of making her scream fell to the greater need to be inside her. He forced himself to abandon her clit, but couldn’t leave without the intimate press of his lips to her lower ones and the thrust of his tongue into her channel, hard and fast and deep as she clenched on it, ground against his face.
Her movements grew more urgent, a frantic reaching for a release he wanted when she was impaled on his cock. He stood. Her “No!” music to his ears, though the sight of Eamon turned his smile at hearing it into little more than a baring of teeth.
“Take her,” Eamon said, and Cathal did, lifting Etaín and carrying her the short distance to the bed, lust making him deaf to any command in Eamon’s voice.
Eamon watched, held in place by the enthrallment of magic and the sheer eroticism of seeing Cathal tumble Etaín onto her hands and knees before entering her in a single hard thrust. With their bodies joined, her aura totally eclipsed Cathal’s, sending a call Eamon couldn’t refuse.
He removed the remainder of his clothing and joined them, lying on his back and positioning himself so he could cup her head and draw her mouth to his. Always before the magic had flowed from him into her, a gift to replenish and strengthen, but with Cathal’s presence came the opposite, a rich pour of Elfhome and Earth magic, as if sex with Etaín widened some ethereal crack between worlds, and Cathal served as a conduit for this world’s magic where he couldn’t serve as a vessel for it as the Elven did.
It was an intoxicating rush, elemental power mixed with lust and insatiable desire. Eamon drank hungrily from her lips, cock swelling
further until its urgent demand dominated, and her swallowed cry of release, followed by Cathal’s, freed him from one type of enchantment only to ensnare him in another.
There was an instant to note purple spikes through the gold of her aura, but the splintered effect disappeared as he moved, shifting position and pulling her down and beneath him, in the process making Cathal’s cock slide from her channel.
She welcomed him readily, legs parting, eyes wickedly inviting. He was aware of Cathal watching as he joined his body to Etaín’s, twined his fingers with hers and held them to the mattress, palms touching, safe from her still because of his power as a spell caster.
In the presence of Elven pheromones and magic, he knew Cathal would harden again as a human rarely could so quickly after spending himself. He was content to let Cathal benefit from the effect.
Eamon sealed his lips to hers once again, a sharing of magic this time. A twining as their tongues rubbed and her legs encircled his hips, holding him against her even as the position allowed him to thrust deeper.
As he’d done when it was Cathal who’d pleasured her, he swallowed her sharp cries, her husky moans, and finally her cry of release. The tight clenching of her channel milking him of seed in a white-hot rush of raw magic that left his body humming even after he’d rolled to his side, facing Cathal with Etaín’s feminine perfection between them.
Etaín felt like purring and suspected the smile on her face made her look like a well-satisfied cat. She suppressed a laugh.
Or a cat very much in heat
.
“That was better than the fantasy,” she said, touching a hand to the smooth heat of Eamon’s chest as she combed through the dark hair on Cathal’s before zeroing in on a nipple. “Much better.”
Cathal’s eyes heated, whether at mention of the fantasy or from the stroke of her fingertips over his nipple, she didn’t know, only thrilled at the hungry expression on his face. A glance at Eamon and
she saw the same, though from the very first he’d made it clear he found the thought of sharing her arousing.
Her fingers zeroed in on his nipple, its color lighter than Cathal’s though it was equally hard, as were the cocks pressed to her thighs. The effects of magic she guessed but the thought was still accompanied by a small thrill of feminine power.
Her knowledge of their bodies gave her the advantage. “I want you both again,” she said, fingers tightening on male nipples in a command to pleasure.
Cathal moaned and lowered his head, claiming her lips as Eamon’s mouth went to her breast, the combined assault sending a scorching wave of lust to her cunt.
A sound of need escaped, and then a second as their hands settled between her thighs.
Her hips jerked upward with the rub and press, the strokes of masculine fingertips along the underside of her clit and over its head. With firm grips and a pumping that wrested any illusion of control away from her.
Desire pulsed through her. Overwhelming her so she trembled, begged.
Eamon drew back and she welcomed Cathal, wrapping arms and legs around him as his cock found her opening and pushed inside. His claiming a hard rush to an exquisite release for both of them.
His eyes held satisfaction and it made her heart sing. She felt his cock begin to firm though his eyes held sleepy contentment. His mouth lowered, but before it touched hers, the vines along her arms flared to life and Cathal went lax.
Eamon tugged her from beneath Cathal and covered her with his own body. “You knocked him out,” Etaín accused, affronted on Cathal’s behalf.
“I believe we’ve given Cathal plenty to think about for one night. He’ll have enough to consider in the morning without including a discussion of magic and it’s enhancement of male performance.”
The comment made her laugh despite her aggravation at Eamon’s high-handedness. He capitalized on it by brushing his lips over the top of her ear, sending a spike of heat downward.
“Beyond that, Etaín, I wanted time alone with you before I leave.”
Conversation ended with the touch of his mouth to hers. She resisted at first, until punishing him became a punishment for herself, and then she yielded, the joining of their bodies becoming pleasure drawn out so she was left slumberous, relaxed, and sated afterward.
“You’re really leaving?” she murmured.
He didn’t want to, but for all of their sakes he thought it best if Cathal didn’t have to confront the reality of his choice upon waking. “Yes,” he said, though long moments passed before he could force himself away from her, and even then he couldn’t resist cupping her cheek and brushing his thumb across her lip. “I’ll give Cathal until the fund-raiser to have you to himself. After that, things will change, Etaín.”