With a groan, Jono lifted Patrick off his lap and pushed him flat on the sofa. Patrick’s hands stayed in his hair as Jono rucked up his shirt to press a hot, openmouthed kiss against taut muscle. Patrick hissed out a breath when Jono licked his way lower, hands undoing his trousers.
“Jono,” Patrick got out.
The desire in his scent, the need in his voice, had Jono working his half-hard cock free in seconds. He licked at the tip, pinning Patrick down with one firm hand when he arched into the touch. Fingernails scraped over Jono’s scalp as he ducked his head, swallowing Patrick down in a slow glide that drew a keening whine out of his lover’s mouth.
The weight and taste of Patrick’s cock on his tongue had Jono swallowing around the length. He worked Patrick over with a relentlessness that had Patrick yanking at Jono’s hair, heels pressed hard against his back, holding on for all he was worth even as he spilled down Jono’s throat.
Jono pulled off and licked his lips, listening to Patrick’s heavy breathing. The insistent tugging on his hair drew him upward and into a messy kiss that Patrick didn’t shy away from.
“Come on me,” he muttered against Jono’s mouth, keeping him close with a firm grip.
Jono fumbled at his own trousers, cock straining against the zipper. He kissed at Patrick’s mouth, his jaw, his throat, breathing him in. When he got his cock free, it only took a couple of strokes before he was spilling across Patrick’s stomach. Patrick didn’t move, keeping him close, as they breathed each other in.
They were both a mess, but the comfort in their closeness had Jono pressing his ear over Patrick’s heart, the sound a soothing tempo that matched his own.
17
Jono shookhis head as he pushed his way through the revolving door of the downtown building where Gentry & Thyme was located. Even just those few seconds from the taxi to the entrance had been enough to soak his trousers from the knees down and wet his hair. An umbrella was useless in the gale force winds howling between Manhattan’s skyscrapers.
“You look like you got no sleep,” Sage said as Jono approached her in the lobby.
Wade was practically glued to her side, eating Dunkin’ Donuts hash browns out of a paper bag three at a time. Jono didn’t know how many orders he’d bought to make the bag bulge like that.
Sage held two travel mugs of coffee in her hands, one of which she handed to Jono. He took it from her with a tired nod of thanks. “You’d be right.”
Wade tilted his paper bag toward Jono. “Want some?”
“I ate,” Jono said, though the offer was appreciated.
“More for me, then. Where’s Patrick?”
“At the office. I took a taxi over.”
Sage shook her head. “You really need to get another car. Buy it with tithes. It’s technically a pack expense.”
“Maybe when this whole bloody mess is over.”
“Speaking of that mess, let’s get upstairs for the meeting with Tiarnán.”
At half past eight on a Monday morning, the lobby was bustling with people arriving for work despite the ugly weather outside. The weather in Salem had followed them home yesterday, and a reactionary storm was slowly building over New York City. The radar maps on the morning news had looked absolutely horrendous, with warnings of gale force winds and possible flooding in the lower areas around Manhattan.
Jono knew it was only going to get worse.
They took a lift up to the floor Gentry & Thyme was on. Sage waved at the receptionist as they passed, leading them to the large conference room where all their alliance meetings with the fae were held. Tiarnán was already seated at the table, the fae lord flanked by Deirdre. Their heritage was impossible to miss, from Deirdre’s dark green hair and pale pink eyes to Tiarnán’s violet-eyed gaze and sheer otherworldly presence.
Tiarnán’s gold-tipped cane was set across the table in front of him. Jono’s gaze caught on the silver filigree plates and links that wrapped around Tiarnán’s right hand, anchored by a thin silver cuff and adorned with gemstones. He could practically taste that metal, and it made the back of his throat itch.
“I understand you had some trouble in Salem,” Tiarnán said in greeting.
Jono took a seat in between Sage and Wade. “It would’ve been worse if Gwyn ap Nudd hadn’t shown up.”
“Yes, we are aware of his aid. Brigid sent out a warning that the hawthorn paths are unstable. She’s sending support to guard them.”
“That can’t be good. There’s one smack in the middle of Central Park. What’s going to come out?” Wade asked, sounding a little alarmed.
“It’s difficult to say.”
“We know the veil is thin. Samhain is on Friday, but every warning from the gods makes it seem as if the veil will rip open before then,” Jono said.
