A pent-up sigh escaped her lips. She opened the refrigerator, then remembered the sack of groceries still on the coffee table. As she turned to go get them, she bumped into her guest. The blanket had slipped farther, exposing more of his taut, satin flesh. Mercy!
"I was just going to--"
His mouth descended on hers. His hands were light on her shoulders, almost a caress. She shivered, deepened the kiss. Screw the groceries, they can wait. His tongue stroked in and out, mimicking the slow motion of his hips. Those seductive hands of his moved lower, cupped her ass, and lifted her onto the kitchen's butcher block island. He eased back, slid his lips across her jaw, down to the pulse in her throat, and laved it with his tongue.
"Your thigh--"
"Is fine. Close your eyes. Let me take care of you."
He tasted her, savored her like he thought she was the most exquisite wine, alternately licking and sucking his way south. She drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Her thighs trembled when he glided his hands between them. Raw need made her nipples tighten as she wondered what he'd do next. Where he'd touch. She moaned and twisted her hips.
"I don't understand...I want you so bad and I don't even know you." She kept her eyes closed and fumbled for the buttons on her pants. She felt the cool air against her exposed skin as he pulled them off.
A spiral of heat arced from his mouth to her center. She peeked, saw his dark head bent over her breasts. His tongue traced each of her areoles in tandem--through her T-shirt.
"Oh...mmmm..." She moaned, helpless to stop the noises he drew from her with such ease. She arched, threw her head back.
He lifted her T-shirt over her head, and she raised her arms. His hands glided under her sports bra and pulled it off, too.
"Destin...ahh."
He returned to her breasts, sucked her aching nipples into his mouth, one at a time, worrying them with the edge of his teeth. His hands moved down her ribs. Slow licks of heat melted her last defense, that core of reserve, the piece of her she always held back. She felt it float away and disappear with each caress, every hungry kiss. He grabbed her hips and moved her closer to the edge. And ripped the delicate scrap of lace between her legs.
She trembled under his expert hands. His head dipped lower, his tongue flickered over the slight curve of her belly and farther down. He drew an invisible line from her navel to her clit with his finger, then followed the path with his hot mouth.
He didn't so much taste her as devour her. She thrashed. Her hips bucked against the punishing lash of his tongue. He didn't try to hold her down. No, he held her tight in his arms, seemed to welcome the heady power of her release. She shook and cried out his name.
Under his urging, she slid off the counter and into his arms. He nuzzled her neck and whispered an odd string of words she didn't recognize.
"The bed. Where is it?"
She pointed toward the bedroom. He lifted her in his arms, carried her to the room, then tossed her onto the queen-sized bed. His erection tented the loose blanket. She reached out and tugged off the material, eager to glimpse his cock at full, glorious attention.
While she lay stunned at the magnificence of what she'd uncovered, he grabbed a pillow and shoved it under her hips.
She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. Oh my, erect, he was bigger than the biggest cucumber she'd seen at the market! She couldn't. It wouldn't--would it? She was no virgin, but it had been a while. Plus her last boyfriend hadn't been as well-endowed. More like a carrot, really. Maybe this had been a mistake?
She edged backward with a case of nerves. "You're huge!"
"Thank you, sweetness."
"Massive, actually."
"Impressed, are you?"
"More like nervous. I don't think it'll fit."
"Ahh, you need a wee bit of coaxing."
"If coaxing is the Scottish word for lubricating jelly, then yeah I want some coaxing, a large jar of it, please." She reached to her left and opened the nightstand, fumbling for one of the condoms Jill had given her earlier that week. For luck. She'd need it if she expected the small piece of rubber to fit him. She glanced up. Oh, my... She tore open the packet with her teeth and passed it to him.
He knelt on the bed, one hand on his cock. The other hand stroked her pussy lips, one finger gliding across her clit, again and again. He managed to roll the condom on single-handedly.
"Ohh, coaxing." She wiggled her hips, and spread her thighs apart. "Hmmm."
"You're a cute one." He leaned closer, his lips grazing the curves of her breasts before zeroing in on the tight peaks of her aching nipples. His thumb glided over and over the slick nub, while his fingers scissored back and forth within her.
Pleasure flowed and tingled throughout her body. Sparkling colors and shapes danced before her eyes against a sea of black. She cried out. Her orgasm rolled over her with the force of a flash flood. She felt hot, on fire, despite her drenched pussy.
His mouth covered hers, swallowing her cry as the flared head of his cock took the place of his thumb and began to stroke her clit. He dipped lower, gathered some of her cream, and with careful precision, slid his thick shaft in shallow, slow thrusts.
She rolled her hips, her tongue tracing the roof of his mouth. His tongue grew more persistent, demanding. He started to shuttle harder and faster...deeper inside her. Each thrust tightened the coil of energy, begged for release. She whimpered, not sure she could take any more of his massive length. She felt so full, already stretched to the max, in a sweet, burning ache.
He tore his mouth from hers, moved, and angled the pillow, raising her hips even higher. Now he stroked in earnest, dug in, grinding, then pulled almost all the way out, before slamming back down. Harder. Tapping her cervix on every thrust.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream, breath gone from the intensity of her orgasm. Glistening tears rolled from her eyes as he gave his own hoarse cry.
He collapsed on top of her, still deep inside, and rolled both of them off the pillow so that she lay astride his body.
Mellow and relaxed as they both were, she didn't want to move. Didn't want to say a word--but his stomach growled, and she realized they'd never gotten their dinner.
"Might be a good idea to feed you now." She left the warmth of the bed, and him, in search of food. Some of her less utilized muscles twinged, her thighs and pussy a little sore, but she'd never felt more alive, or more happy.
She slipped into an old terry cloth robe and cinched it tight around the waist on her way to the refrigerator.
"I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier, but if you need to call someone, the phone is on the kitchen wall." She opened the fridge door, and scanned the contents. "I have eggs, cheese, broccoli, bacon, some leftover pizza. I could order out--"
"Any fish?" He came up behind her, wrapped an arm about her waist.
"Nothing really edible--at least I don't eat it." She spotted the canned fish in the pantry closet and set it on the counter for him.
"Then why do you buy it?"
"My mom's Uncle Roanan. He loves the stuff, and he likes to stop by from time to time. This used to be his house."
He read the labels. "Fresh is better, but this will do."
"You actually like this stuff, too? Yuck! Tell me you won't eat it like he does--straight from the can?" She shuddered.
"Aye. And a mug of ale if you have it."
"I may hurl. Just so you know." She handed him a cold beer, and chose a can of soda for herself . She reheated the pizza, then joined him at the kitchen table.
"Sorry, I forgot to get you a fork." She started to get back up, but he stopped her.
"No need."
Shock held her motionless. He reached in the opened can of herring with his bare hand, and carried four of the fish to his mouth. He dropped them down his throat and swallowed them whole. At least her uncle made a pretense of chewing!
He downed the other fish just as fast, took a swig of beer, and looked up at her. "Got any more?"
> "Help yourself, but don't expect me to sit and watch." She glanced at her pizza and felt her stomach roll.
"You don't like fish?" he asked as he pulled back the metal tab on a third can.
"Not that way. Too gross." She walked into the living room and stretched out on the sofa, remote control in hand. "You didn't want to call anyone?"
What if his family still lived in Scotland? Oh, crap. "Umm, no overseas long distance, though--okay? I haven't paid the last bill."
"I have none to call."
"Nobody? No family, friends? Your mother? No one at all who might be worried about you?"
"Only you."
Geeze, much as her mother drove her crazy sometimes and embarrassed her on a regular basis, she couldn't imagine life without the old witch. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm not." A brilliant smile lit his rugged features. Stole her breath. God, he was handsome.
And then he ruined the moment by throwing his head back, and dropping four whole sardines down his throat.
* * * *
Destin stood over the couch, staring at her as she slept. Pale color suffused her face. She'd been a little green at the "gills" earlier. His fault. He blamed his lack of table manners on his ravenous hunger. He'd eaten four cans of the little herrings, one can of sardines, and a can of mackerel. Then he'd spied a can of pink salmon in Terri's wonderful little closet and had demolished it, too.
Now he discarded the empty cans in her garbage bin and cleaned up the mess he'd made. When he could make it back to his hidden cove, he'd have to repay her for all the food he'd consumed.
He washed his face and hands at her sink, then walked back into the living room. Her plate of uneaten pizza sat on the coffee table alongside her half-empty can of soda. He leaned closer, smiling at the tiny chuffing sounds she made in her sleep.
The robe she wore didn't cover enough of her bare skin. He grabbed an afghan from a nearby chair and draped it over her. Warmth flooded his chest, near choking him with a strange, almost tender emotion. How could that be? Less than five hours ago she'd not been a part of his life...and now...now she was.
He sat down in the lone recliner and watched the weather report on the Tee Vee. Somehow, the strange underwater storm had forced him hundreds of miles off course. His destination had been the new colony he'd heard about, north of Bodega Bay. Instead he'd swum beyond that, to the Oregon coast.
The skin on his injured thigh itched under the bandage. He picked at the tape that held it in place and slowly unwrapped the gauze. Smooth skin without a single mar or blemish. He glanced over at the sleeping woman on the couch. She must not see his thigh--at least not yet. She wouldn't understand.
He rewrapped the cloth, then turned off the Tee Vee with a yawn. A full belly made him sleepy. He walked to the sliding glass doors, opened them, and stepped onto the deck. Stars hung over the midnight sea, jewel bright.
Long ago, his mother had told him a story. Wishes on a falling star, made real...a magickal blessing from Manannán mac Lir, ruler of the Land Under Wave. The gift touched his ancestors--changed them. They would swim in two forms--as man, and as seal. Being magickal, they were long-lived. Their only enemies...sharks and humans.
The natives of this land had sensed the magick long ago, had honored it, respected it. Seals were hunted for meat and for their soft seal fur. Yet these native peoples knew the difference between, and the penalty for, harming one of his kind. Selkies took many as lovers, even marrying into certain tribes.
But these newest people were very different. They didn't trust or accept the magick. They killed indiscriminately. And those who suspected the truth, trapped his kind, stealing their caps, keeping them land-bound.
He heard the soft snores over the lapping waves, and thought of the little female inside. Of her generous nature, her mewling cries of pleasure...he'd taken her as a lover. Something about her called to him. Made him ache with tenderness, even as his cock twitched, nay, burned with the ache to thrust hard within her sweet depths.
Destin inhaled the salty mist from the sea, then returned to the house...to the woman named, of all things, Terri. Grounded on terra firm. A land-dweller yes, but one with a taste of fiery magick in her soul.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. She blinked up at him and clutched at his neck. He laid her on the bed, then got in beside her, covering them both with the sheets and quilt.
"Go to sleep, aingeal."
"What did you just call me?"
"Angel." He turned to lie on his side and moved to wrap his arms around her waist. He pulled her against his chest, lowered his head to kiss the nape of her neck. "My angel."
"Hmm...nice," she mumbled, and closed her eyes.
He held her close, breathed in her scent, and dreamt he took Terri beneath the midnight seas to the magickal birthplace of his people, The Land Under Wave.
* * * *
She swam beneath a midnight blue sea, her sleek body weaving in and out of the kelp sea beds. A huge seal chased her, playful as it nosed her thigh, then darted away. She broke the surface of the waves, snorting water and laughing at the same time. Another voice joined in, but it sounded more like the odd barking laughter of a seal.
Terri woke with a start and shook off the dream images. She glanced over her shoulder at the man behind her. He snored, one arm flung around her waist, and one hairy leg nudged between her own as he slept spoon-like, pressed against her back.
His thick lashes created shadows on the high ridge of his cheekbones. Women, she included, spent a fortune on mascara in the attempt to achieve what he had naturally. Figures.
She needed to get up, start her daily run along the beach. Maybe look for his missing ball cap, too, since it seemed so important to him. But when she tried to shift out of the bed, he pulled her back and pressed his lips to her ear lobe. Something much larger pressed her rump.
"Good morning, milis," he whispered in her ear. His hands glided over her breasts, cupping them.
"Milis?"
"Sweet." His mouth grazed her shoulder, while his thumbs and forefingers rolled her nipples.
"So I'm sweet, huh?" She wiggled backward.
"My sweet." His hands slid lower, to her hips, her thighs, and the delicious, sudden ache between her legs.
Okay, so her run would be a little late today. Sometimes you just had to go with the flow. She smiled, loving how he touched her. Destin instinctively zeroed in on another hot button on her body.
How could she feel so comfortable, so close to a man she'd just met? It felt right. He felt right. Like they'd been together forever, each knowing exactly how to please the other.
He guided one of her legs over his, and with a roll of his powerful hips, thrust--all the way to the hilt.
"Ohh..." She closed her eyes, and concentrated on the tight stretch of him inside her. He kept the strokes long, slow, and deep. A knotted coil of tension built at her core, forced her to squirm and push back harder against his cock.
"Touch yourself for me. I want to see your fingers glisten with your cream."
She did as he asked, her fingers parting her folds. And heard his loud groan of approval. Encouraged, she caught the nub of flesh between finger and thumb. She tugged--rubbed it faster, grinding her backside into his pelvis, desperate for release. She mewled like a cat in heat.
"Yes. Come for me, milis." He met her backward motion with a forward one of his own. Before long, he was slamming into her with near bruising force.
She couldn't think. She could only feel. The friction of her fingers on her clit. Her other fingers stroking his cock, as she caressed his slick shaft every time he pulled partially out.
Her sudden cry pierced the air. She shook from the intensity, then waves from the aftershock rushed over her. He slowed his rhythm, drawing a whimper from her trembling lips.
He took one of her hands, guided it to his mouth, and sucked each finger--tasting her essence--all the while pounding her pussy, seeking his own heavy release. Her i
nternal muscles clenched hard on his cock, trembled at the continued invasion.
"Please...oh mercy..." she begged, not even aware of what she pleaded for.
He stopped, pulled out, turned her around so that she faced him, and gathered her into his arms. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was a fool, an idiot. She didn't know why she was crying. He hadn't hurt her. On the contrary, he'd given her the most intense orgasm of her life.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him...leaned back, and smiled through her tears. He licked them away with the tip of his tongue, then carried her into the bathroom. He set her on her feet long enough to turn on the water in the shower. The room grew steamy.
"I'll try to be more gentle. But I still want you--need you--so damn bad." He shut the shower door, backed her onto the tiled wall, and reached for the bar of soap on the ledge.
"You don't have to go slow or be gentle. I want to feel it when you fuck me. Hard, fast--I just want you." She watched him shudder, his eyes darken and dilate.
He gave her the bar of soap. "Take me in your hands, Terri. Show me what pleases you."
"Spread your legs a little for me," she said. His offer had freed the wanton, little she-devil within. But could he take what she planned to dish out?
He obeyed, parting his legs, and leaning forward, bracing his forearms against the wall, on either side of her head. She ran a soapy hand across the muscled underside of his arm, and traced a finger over the strange tattoo she'd noticed the night before. She'd always thought most guys got tats on their biceps or chest, but this was almost hidden.
"What is this?"
"My mark. Sacred to my people."
"But what is it? It looks a little like a cross, but also kind of like a flower. It's pretty."
"Pretty? I'll have to remember that," he chuckled. "It's a Celtic knot. One that symbolizes transformation."
She rubbed her hands together, let them glide over his shoulders in a soapy slide down his chest and abdomen. Her fingers brushed the coarse hair that encircled his engorged cock. He drew in a sharp breath, a whisper of sound against her cheek, and leaned closer.
SHIFTING TIDES: BENEATH A MIDNIGHT SEA Page 2
