His man smiled against his skin, then pushed him back further as he trailed his warm, talented tongue down his sternum. It was only when Ethan felt something wet on his shoulder that he realised how far over backwards he was.
“Jack.” Ethan scrabbled at Jack’s shoulders. “Let me up.”
Jack sat back after swiping his tongue back up and over a peaked nipple. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”
Laughing, Ethan shook his head. “You dipped me in something.”
“Oh fuck. That’s hot.” Jack flipped Ethan around and his mouth landed on the damp patch. “God, the yogurt tastes better this way.”
Torn between laughing and groaning, Ethan said, “Didn’t you say the food always tastes better when eaten with your hands?”
“Hands, back, same difference.” Jack lapped up the tart yogurt.
When he was done, Ethan turned back around, the bowl of yogurt in his hand. “Hmm, let’s see if your theory holds up.”
They spent a delicious while testing it, getting creamy smears on each other and the couch until the bowl was empty and they were too busy sharing the last of the yogurt in a long, deep kiss to worry as it tumbled to the floor. Then their hard cocks were free of their pants and Jack’s hand was wrapped around them, stroking slowly.
Ethan melted onto Jack as trails of fiery pleasure curled up from his cock and balls. “Jack.” His fingers wound through Jack’s curls, tipping his head back so he had access to the tender skin under his jaw. He nipped and licked in time with Jack’s hand, whimpering as a rough thumb rubbed across the head of his cock, collecting moisture from them both to slick harder and faster strokes.
It had been so long since he’d had a hand other than his own to offer release that this was working too well. Jack, too, was getting close, his breathing getting faster and shallower. Ethan had desperately missed watching Jack fall apart for him and he needed it more than he needed his own orgasm. Needed to know Jack still wanted him after Ethan had walked out on him, after Jack had said no in Dharavi. Ethan replaced Jack’s hand with his own and took control.
“Oh fuck,” Jack gasped, head thrown back. “Jesus, Ethan. Too good. Too close.”
“Do it, Jack. For me.”
Jack growled, his free hand grasping the back of Ethan’s neck and pulling him in so their mouths clashed. Ethan bit his lower lip, then invaded him with his tongue, sliding it across Jack’s even as he sped up his hand. Barely half a minute later, Jack tore his mouth away and came with a strangled groan. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock through their hands, rubbing against Ethan’s shaft, slicking it with his semen.
That was all it took for Ethan and his orgasm lashed through him.
When he caught his senses and breath, he was slumped on Jack’s chest, face pressed into his sweaty neck. His hand was still closed around both of their cocks and he gave them a lazy jerk.
“Christ.” Jack’s hands snapped around Ethan’s biceps.
Ethan’s laugh was muffled against his skin.
“Sadist.”
“Hmm. Just making sure you’ll be ready for round two.” He softened his grip and gently rubbed them together.
Jack’s groan was a long suffering one, but his hold turned into caresses up and down Ethan’s arms, then down his back to grip his arse and squeeze. “Round two?”
“When you come inside me.”
The air caught in Jack’s throat with an audible hitch. “Yeah? What are you going to use for lube? We ate all the yogurt.”
Sitting back, Ethan smiled at the dishevelled glory that was post-coital Jack. “Your uncle didn’t only provide soap and shampoo with the toiletries.”
Between Jack’s grumbles that he most definitely did not want to talk about Raja during sex, they made it back to bed, lube fetched from the bathroom on the way. They spent a long while slowly working each other back to full arousal, getting there when Jack went down on Ethan for a slow, thorough blowjob. Ethan was lost to the pleasure right from the start, incoherently begging for each slicked finger that Jack worked into him, until all he could do was clutch at Jack’s shoulders and haul his mouth off his cock and back to his.
“Now, Jack.”
“As you wish,” Jack returned with a fierce kiss.
Then he was easing inside and all the air left Ethan’s body. His spine curled up, legs wound around Jack’s waist. The pressure was exquisite, the sensation of being filled up one of completion. Jack let out a low moan when his balls touched Ethan’s arse. The sound rippled through Ethan like a warm current—and it pulled towards Jack with gravitational force. He found Jack’s mouth with his own and sealed them together as Jack started to move. Leisurely thrusts that slid his whole length in and out, taking his time to pleasure them both.
It was sweet and tender and by the time physical needs drove them both into frantic motion, chasing down their climax, Ethan felt the chasm inside his chest close.
The post-fuck snack turned out to be the rest of the food shared between them while they sat in bed catching up on the past three months apart. Once finished, Jack took the empty plates and bowls back to the lounge room and returned to find Ethan sprawled out on his back across the mattress. All of his naked glory was on display and Jack thought there might be a third set of orgasms in their very near future.
“Ugh,” Ethan moaned as Jack joined him again. “I ate too much.” He patted his taut and defined abdomen.
“No. I ate too much. You’re just catching up.” Jack poked one of Ethan’s sharply jutting hip bones.
Ethan swatted his hand away. “I haven’t lost that much weight.”
“You didn’t have any to lose,” Jack pointed out.
“Fine. The only recourse is to live here forever so you can feed me Indian food.”
The very thought of it made his stomach’s contents shift uncomfortably. It also successfully deflated the hopes his dick had for more fun any time soon.
“There’s some very good Indian restaurants in Sydney.” Jack tried to sound casual.
Ethan rolled onto his side, head propped up on a hand. His expression was carefully neutral. Jack knew that look and his already unsettled guts churned even more. He was about to get sliced open.
“It wasn’t just Jharkhand,” Ethan said gently.
Great. This again. “What wasn’t just Jharkhand?” It was easier to give in. Ethan would get whatever it was out of him eventually.
“That made you swear to never return to India.”
Jack threw an arm across his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Didn’t you tell me talking helps?”
“Didn’t you tell me it just points out all your failures and twists your perceptions?”
It was Ethan’s turn to poke Jack in the ribs. “And yet I talked.”
Uncovering his eyes, Jack considered his man for a moment. Ethan sounded casual but his lips were pressed together and he was very studiously watching Jack’s chest rise and fall.
“I’m sorry if I forced you to talk about what happened,” Jack said.
After a moment, Ethan shook his head and when he met Jack’s gaze, smiled sadly. “You didn’t. And I think I feel, if not better for it, then at least lighter. A burden shared, perhaps? And had it been anyone other than you asking, I wouldn’t have talked.”
Ethan held Jack’s gaze for long while, breaking it only when Jack levered himself up to kiss him. A chaste touch of lips that nevertheless made Ethan sigh and lean into him. That simple confession had a keen edge and it cut into Jack so neatly he didn’t even feel it. All he knew was that he started talking.
“It’s my fault my mum died. She was taking part in an educational program for remote teachers in the rural areas in the northeast. Showing them new techniques and courses to help reach the children, and I was going with her as an aide. It was supposed to give me extra credit for my post-grad degree in higher education. I was going to be a teacher, like both my parents. I’d finished my bachelors and was taking six months off before st
arting the post-grad, and . . .” Jack hesitated, then went with, “And Meera was pregnant with Matilda. She was also going through withdrawal. Did I ever tell you that? Meera was a Sugar addict when she was pregnant. That’s how I picked up on you being a Sugar Baby. I researched it all back then. Thankfully, Meera got treatment in time and Mati wasn’t affected.”
“That’s good,” Ethan agreed, a touch of sadness in his words.
“Anyway, the fuckface who’d gotten her hooked decided he didn’t want a kid, but when Meera said she wouldn’t end the pregnancy, he threatened her. She got her shit together and came home. He followed her, making a lot of noise and trouble for her and our parents.” Jack smiled apologetically. “He was inordinately proud of his car, a Nissan Skyline, so I set fire to it.”
Ethan’s eyes went wide. “You did?”
“Yeah. Rambunctious, remember?”
“Not quite the term I would use.”
“Which would be?”
“Protective. Fierce. Loyal. Loving.” Ethan kissed Jack’s mouth.
“You could also add ‘almost arrested’ to that list. The only reason I wasn’t charged was because the arsehole ran at the first hint of cops and there were no other witnesses. Anyway, mum delayed leaving until we knew Meera was going to be okay, and by that time I’d changed my mind about going. I thought it would be better if I stayed home so I was there when Meera had the baby.”
Ethan’s eyebrow quirked up. “Your sister was all right with that?”
“No. She yelled at me a lot about it, and not all of it was due to the withdrawal.” Jack closed his eyes. It was the only way he could say the next bit. “She was actually yelling at me because she knew the real reason why I didn’t want to go with mum. I was single and I was having too much fun fucking around. The last thing I wanted to do was come here, where I couldn’t have sex or be myself. Being a monk for six months when I was twenty years old really didn’t appeal to me, so I made the excuse of wanting to look after Meera and stayed home. And mum was all alone in a remote schoolhouse, doing prep work I would have been doing if I’d been there, when the Maoists decided to make a statement and blow up what they thought was an empty building.”
The room was silent for a long while, then Ethan’s finger drew a gentle line up Jack’s cheek, collecting the tear that had escaped from under his lashes.
“I’m very sorry you lost your mother, but you shouldn’t blame yourself, Jack.”
Jack’s laugh was bitter and ugly. “Which is what everyone says. Everyone except for Meera, of course. She always tells the truth, no matter who it hurts or what it costs.”
“Hmm. I’m not exactly sure about that.”
“You’ve never met her. Just wait. You’ll be a believer when you do.”
“Perhaps. But have you ever considered that Meera blames herself, not you?”
Jack sighed. “She’s always been very adamant about where she thinks the blame lies.”
“All right, let’s look at this logically, shall we?” Ethan sat up and leaned back against the headboard. “Had you been with your mother on that trip, it is highly likely you would have been in that building when the Maoists attacked, not Usha. Either way, Meera was going to lose a family member.”
“Yeah, and it’s no national secret that mum was her favourite out of the two of us. That’s what Meera yelled at me several times afterwards. That it should have been me, not mum.”
Ethan nudged him with a foot. “Put that aside for the moment. Consider this, if Meera hadn’t been pregnant, if she hadn’t had to flee an abusive partner, if she hadn’t gotten hooked on Sugar, your mother wouldn’t have delayed her trip. Chances are she wouldn’t have been in that district at that time if she hadn’t.”
“I guess, but the fact is, it should have been me, either way.”
“Forget about yourself for a moment. Put yourself in Meera’s position. If you had been the cause of the delay, how would you feel?”
Jesus. That was a low blow. Jack scrubbed his hands over his face. “She’s hidden it incredibly well for a long time.”
This time, Ethan’s foot was a soothing rub along Jack’s hip. “Family trait, I believe.”
Catching the errant foot, Jack gave it an absent massage. “Probably.”
“Now that you’ve talked and been given a different perspective, do you feel any better?”
Jack poked his tongue out at Ethan, who pulled his foot back and gave Jack another gentle shove with it.
“Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to Raja about, as well?”
“Christ. Okay.” Jack huffed his way off the bed and grumbled his way into the bathroom. “Now he’s all about the deep and meaningfuls. I should have kept my trap shut.”
If he was going to talk to his uncle, he didn’t need to smell like sweat and sex. In the shower, he turned the taps on and stood under the hard spray, face turned into the water.
The truth was he did feel, as Ethan had said, if not any better than at least lightened. He had a point about Meera. Jack had been too tied up in his own guilt, compounded by Meera’s seeming conviction it was his fault, to ever contemplate what his sister wasn’t saying while she laid all the blame on him. Meera had gone through so much in such a short span of time it was a surprise she’d come through it as well as she had—and Jack had barely even noticed. She had every right to hate him, especially to hate the choices he’d made that took him away from a fragile family that had been struggling to cope without a wife, mother and grandmother, and then nearly cost them a son, brother and uncle.
Goddamn Ethan and his cutting insight.
After his shower, Jack pulled on the same pants he’d been wearing for five days now and went looking for the shirt Ethan had been wearing that morning. Ethan himself was still on the bed, curled up and dozing. Jack hoped it wasn’t a return of the despair that had followed him out of the glass house. He plopped a light kiss on his shoulder and whispered that he was going to find Raja. Ethan mumbled something like “all right,” then snuggled deeper into his pillow. Resuming the search, Jack found the shirt on the floor in the living room, smeared in places with dried yogurt and, of course, missing buttons. Sighing, he pulled it on and went to find his uncle.
Raja, he discovered, had to make an urgent run up to his other hotel in the hills with some supplies they were drastically short on. Putting off a potentially uncomfortable conversation with a surge of guilty relief, Jack settled for rummaging through the pile of clothes left behind by forgetful visitors. He found jeans and shirts for himself and Ethan, drew the line at borrowed underwear and, in newish clothes, sunglasses and cap, made a trip out to buy undies and a few other essentials.
His uncle still wasn’t around when he got back, so he made his way up the hidden staircase, thinking that lazing away the evening in bed with Ethan would be lovely before Jack contacted the Office to get a location for an extraction.
Those thoughts vanished the moment he opened the door to the salon.
“Hello, Jack,” Donna McIntosh said.
His Internal Threat Assessment director sat in one of the leather chairs, legs crossed, hands draped over the armrests. Her dark blue skirt suit was immaculate, blond hair curling in thick waves over her shoulders. When Jack’s brain failed to cough up a comprehensible sentence, she continued.
“I thought it best to wait out here for you to return. It’s been some time since I was in the field and I don’t believe I’m quite up to holding my own against Ethan Blade.”
She sounded pleasant enough, but her blue eyes didn’t exactly hold the warmth they usually did when she was being personable. They weren’t quite Artic either, but an intermediate degree Jack had become familiar with the year before, when she’d been doubting his loyalty to the Office and his country. Coupled with the fact that the last time McIntosh had gone into the field, it had been to extract Jack from the Sydney police when he had been arrested for suspicion of being a raving psychopathic serial killer, it couldn’t be anything good t
hat brought her here.
“Ma’am,” he finally managed. “This is a surprise.”
“Well, it was rather last minute all around.” She gestured to the chair opposite her. “Why don’t you sit down. We need to talk.”
Jack glanced towards the suite, wondering if Ethan was still asleep, or if his finely honed senses had let him know someone else was here. Was he listening at the door? Or was he so tired he had dropped into a deeper sleep?
“If you wish Mr. Blade to be a part of this, I can wait.”
Snorting, Jack dropped his shopping by the door to the suite and himself into the chair. “I don’t even know what this is yet.”
She gave him a tight smile that did nothing to illuminate her reason for being in India, or in this supposedly secret salon. “I suppose. First things first, the Cabal is in turmoil. The loss of two of its leaders has thrown the rest of them into crisis management. Territory is quickly being—”
“Wait,” Jack snapped. “Two of its leaders? Three died in that house, not two.”
“New information came into light in the aftermath of the deaths. Sakamoto was not a Cabal leader. He was in position to step up into the role, should one become vacant, but he wasn’t one of the five.”
“Shit.” Jack sank further into the chair. How would Ethan take that news? He’d torn himself up about this enough already. Jack couldn’t imagine how he’d feel when he found out there were still three of the bastards out there, not just two.
“It gets worse,” McIntosh said gently. “Mahavir Balakrishnan isn’t just a high-ranking member of the Cabal. He is one of the leaders.”
And he had been right in Jack’s hands. Right at the end of his gun. He could have solved a third of their remaining problems then and there. If only he’d known.
“Don’t blame yourself, Jack. None of us knew then. This isn’t the first time a subject has slipped by us. There will be another chance.”
“Good. When do we make that chance happen?”
“As soon as you and Mr. Blade are ready to—” Frowning, McIntosh reached into her jacket and pulled out a phone. One glance at the screen and she stood. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” She strode on her three-inch heels to the far side of the room, phone to her ear.
When Death Frees the Devil Page 28
