I Spy a Wicked Sin (21 page)

“Yes?” His tone was patient, encouraging.

“I want to be devoured,” she whispered.

Devon’s eyes flashed dark with arousal. “You want three mouths worshipping your body? Taking you somewhere you’ve never dared?”

“Yes.” She was going to combust. “Then I want you to fuck me hard.”

“Good girl. Geneva?”

“We heard, darling. Here we come, pun intended.”

Geneva led Jude over, situating him on one side of Lily, herself on the other. Devon’s low voice set the tone for the scene.

“Lily, raise your arms above your head and cross them at your wrists, as though you’re tied,” he said. “It’s an act of trust, of giving up all control to us. We won’t do anything to hurt you and will bring you only pleasure. But we
are
going to ravish you, do anything we please to your delicious body, and you’re going to surrender completely. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes!” Just the simple act of positioning her arms that way made her feel more vulnerable than she’d ever been.

Geneva stretched out beside her, cupping one of Lily’s breasts, gently rolling the nipple in her fingers. “She’s lovely, Dev. All spread for us.”

“So hot,” Jude agreed, skimming her stomach. He bent to her, kissing and nibbling.

Devon returned to his mission of eating her pussy and suddenly, three mouths were indeed making a feast of her. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to them, let the tide sweep her away. Jude was right—in some instances, not being able to see heightened the other senses. Every touch, kiss, and caress felt so big. So much
more
.

Twin mouths suckled each of her nipples, greedy. Her clit pulsed in time to the manipulations of tongue and lips. She was nothing now except a mass of erogenous zones being tasted, a banquet. A carnal sacrifice.

Just as she began to unravel, the lips feasting on her pussy disappeared. She made a sound of protest and in seconds, her bottom was hoisted upward in strong hands. The blunt head of a cock found her entrance and she opened her eyes to see Devon crouched there, expression filled with lust. Sexy as the devil.

He pulled her forward, speared her deeply, in one smooth thrust.

Lily pushed onto him, frantic. “Oh, yes!”

“Hard and fast?”

“Fuck me into the floor,” she begged.

She didn’t have to ask twice. Holding tight, he pumped into her, gave her all he had. He pounded into her, driving her wild, and she met him stroke for stroke.

As she reached the pinnacle, the pair working her nipples swooped on her mouth, claiming it in a three-way kiss. Tongues teasing, playing.

Lily’s orgasm detonated and she bucked, flying high, riding wave after wave of pure molten flame. Her descent to reality was gradual and she lay gasping, becoming aware of three grinning faces surrounding her.

“Well,” she said with a shaky laugh. “You guys sure know how to devour a girl.”

They all laughed as well and Devon said, “You made a request and we aim to please.”

“Which you do quite marvelously,” she praised, sitting up.

Devon winked. “Thank you. What shall we do now? Enjoy our nightcap and perhaps recuperate for round two?”

“I’m easy,” Jude quipped.

Geneva patted his arm. “We know.”

Jude opened his mouth to reply, but cocked his head. “What’s that?”

“Don’t hear anything,” Devon said, then paused. “Oh, wait, I do. Someone’s cell phone. I think it’s coming from Jude’s clothes.”

“I’ll get it.” Geneva got up and walked to the sofa, fishing in Jude’s shirt pocket. Retrieving the phone, she came back and pressed it into his hand.

“Thanks.” Jude flipped the device open. “Hello? Yes. Who is this?”

Time crawled to a stop as everyone watched the satisfied, happy light die, his face turning ghost white as he answered some questions, listened.

“Oh, God, no.”

The bottom dropped out of Lily’s stomach.

Jude answered the phone, expecting anyone on earth besides the man who greeted him in a somber tone.

“Is this Jude St. Laurent?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Mr. St. Laurent, my name is Detective Dan Phillips. Do you own the home at 5573 Cherrywood Lane?”

“I do.”

“And you have a young man by the name of Liam O’Neil living in your home; is that correct?”

He hesitated, taken completely off guard. “That’s right. What is this about?”

“Mr. St. Laurent,” the detective began, voice sympathetic, “you were listed as the emergency contact in Mr. O’Neil’s wallet. I’m very sorry to inform you of a break-in that occurred at your residence tonight. Mr. O’Neil was attacked by the intruder, but managed to call 911. He was taken to the hospital but—”

“Oh, God, no.” Jude felt light- headed, the blood drained from his head into the floor. “How is he? Please tell me he’s all right.”

He heard Lily and his friends rise and move toward him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I honestly don’t know. I’m still at your residence with some other officers, trying to piece together what happened.”

Which meant Liam wasn’t able to tell them. Panic clawed at his heart, a knot of fear in his throat. “Where was he found? What did this bastard do to him?”

“All I know is the responding officers found him lying facedown in the foyer, and the assailant had already fled. The paramedics took your friend away soon after. I wish I could tell you more, but the hospital will be able to provide you with the answers on his condition.”

The detective was hedging. Didn’t want to tell him how bad Liam was hurt.

What if . . .

No. Liam wasn’t dead. He would not accept that.

“Thank you, Detective,” he heard himself say from a distance. “Do what you need to at the house. I’m sure you or your officers will talk to me and Liam, eventually. I’ll be at the hospital and I want a full report of exactly what happened tonight.”

“I’ll come by as soon as I wrap up here.”

Jude hung up and stood, trying to think what to do next. “Lily, get dressed. We have to go.”

She grabbed his hand. “What’s happened?”

“Someone broke into the house tonight and attacked Liam,” he said, voice cracking. He clutched his head, barely registering Geneva’s horrified gasp, panic threatening to overwhelm him. “The police won’t even tell me if he’s okay.”

“Oh, honey,” Lily breathed. “We’ll go to him, fast as we can. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Here’re your clothes,” Geneva said, pressing them into his hands. Tears were evident in her voice. “We’re going with you.”

“Damned straight.” Devon’s voice, strained. “Let’s hurry.”

Jude opened his mouth. Couldn’t speak for the giant lump in his windpipe.

Lily helped him dress, sliding the shirt onto his shoulders, holding out his pants. Clothing rustled, everyone deadly silent.

He left his shirt untucked, slid his feet into his shoes. Someone handed him his jacket, tie, and cane; then Lily dragged him out the door, holding his hand.

All four of them jumped into the limo and Jude gave the driver the name of the hospital closest to his house, praying it was the correct one. He’d been too upset to ask.

The ride seemed to take hours. Jude left everything in the limo except his cane and Lily led him into what he assumed was the emergency room.

“Liam O’Neil,” she barked with authority. “Was he brought in here?”

“And you all are?” The receptionist—Jude assumed—sounded bored.

Lily didn’t hesitate to lie, her voice cool and firm. “Family. We’re his sisters. These are our husbands.”

“Oh, let me see what I can find out.”

Footsteps receded. Jude clung to Lily’s hand, quietly going out of his mind. Liam had seemed so sad earlier when they left. What-ifs thrummed in his head, each one a blow to his stomach.

What if they hadn’t left Liam alone?

What if they’d taken him along?

What if he died?

Devon’s voice, rife with grief and self- recrimination, broke into his bouncing thoughts. Soft, but not far enough away to keep Jude from overhearing.

“What have I done? I took him for granted and now, because of my selfishness, he may never know—”

“Shh,” Geneva whispered. “Don’t do this to yourself. He’ll know, honey.”

“Not if we don’t get the chance to tell him! My God, Geneva, I love him as much as you do,” he rasped. “He
has
to be all right.”

What the—oh.

His friends had fallen in love with Liam—and obviously Dev had been the one greatly conflicted about the fact. Falling for one of their toys was a huge no-can-do in his friend’s rule book. Until now. When the hell had this happened?

Jude chose not to comment. What could he say at the moment? The couple already felt bad enough. After ten minutes—twenty?—the receptionist returned, betraying no hint of whether to expect good news or bad.

“The doctor will be with you shortly.”

At least they knew Liam was here. Being treated. That had to be good news, right?

Lily’s small hand pressed against his chest. “Calm down or you’re going to bring on one of your migraines. And if that happens, you won’t be any comfort to Liam. He’s been through a terrible ordeal and he’s going to need all of you.”

Jude took several deep breaths, tried to do as she asked. “You’re right. It’s just so hard not to lose it,” he said, pulling her into his arms. She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, hugging his waist. They remained like that a while, holding each other, seeking solace, giving it in return.

No other woman had ever touched his soul the way Lily did. She felt right in his arms. If only he wasn’t such a screwed-up mess, he might pursue something more.

“Are you Mr. O’Neil’s family?”

“Yes,” Jude said as Lily pulled away.

“Come with me and we’ll talk somewhere private,” the man directed kindly.

Private. Didn’t necessarily mean bad.

Several twists and turns later, a door shut behind them all and Lily guided him into a chair. The doctor wasted no time getting to the crux.

“First, I want you to know that Liam will recover.”

“Thank God,” Devon said hoarsely.

If Jude hadn’t been sitting, he would’ve fallen from sheer relief. “What are his injuries?”

“Well, he sustained several contusions on his skull and back, and suffered compression of his larynx—”

“In English, goddammit.”

The doctor paused. “He was beaten and strangled.”

Geneva whimpered. “Oh, Dev . . .”

Those two words hammered into Jude’s brain like railroad spikes. Some son of a bitch had put his hands on Liam. Had hurt him. Jude’s hands clenched into fists.

“How bad is he?”

“His appearance is worse than his condition. We ran a CAT scan and his brain was fine. He has no internal bleeding, which is great news. However, he has a couple of head injuries that required stitches, a concussion, multiple bruises on his back, and a nasty ligature mark around his neck. His larynx is probably swollen, and talking will be painful for a few days.”

“Probably?”

“He’s only been awake briefly and he was still in shock. To my knowledge, he hasn’t tried to speak. I’d like to keep him overnight for observation, but he should be able to go home tomorrow. Barring any complications, of course.”

Go home.
As horrible as this was, Jude latched on to that with everything in him. Liam would get to come home. He would recover.

“Can we see him?”

“Sure. He’s being moved to a room at the moment, but as soon as he’s settled, I’ll have a nurse give you the room number.”

“Thank you.” He reached out and offered his hand. The doctor shook it, then showed them out with instructions to make sure Liam rested for the next few days.

Like he and Lily were going to allow him to lift a finger.

Another interminable wait. If Jude still had his sight, he would’ve paced, distracted himself by watching the people bustling in and out. As it was, he sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair and fidgeted until a nurse finally gave them Liam’s location.

He couldn’t get there fast enough. When they entered the room, he didn’t have to see to know his friend looked bad.

“Oh, Dev,” Geneva choked. “Our poor angel.”

Lily pushed Jude into a chair and he reached out, but she caught his hand. “Careful, he has a bandage on the right side of his head and his face is bruised. Here.”

She moved his hand and he stroked Liam’s silky hair, recalled the way the damnable strands always fell over those laughing gray eyes. He let them slide through his fingers, agonizing that they’d almost lost him. A few more seconds, a bit more pressure on his delicate throat, and this wonderful life would’ve been snuffed forever.