Oceans Untamed

by Cleo Peitsche

  She shuddered against him, and he paused to kiss her. He gave her air, then kissed her again because her soft lips tasted too good not to.

  Swirling a finger between her folds, he gathered silky moisture and dragged it back, across her pucker. Her stomach tightened as he circled her virgin hole, getting her as slippery as he could.

  She’d gone completely tense. Of course she had. He’d been the first to explore her ass, and he hadn’t gone far enough. Ideally he would have had weeks to work her up to this.

  Even though he’d warned her probably too many times about how this would hurt, he still hesitated. Yes, she would heal, but he didn’t want to traumatize her.

  Unfortunately, his cock was too large, and he had two to satisfy. Either of her holes would be a snug fit, and he was going to have to squeeze in order to make it work.

  If only he could have introduced her to this the proper way, teaching her how to relax, how to accept his large shafts.

  Enough. Do it now.

  He pulled her against him and kissed her, breathing normally for her. Her body was surprisingly relaxed, and that relieved him. Despite all the ways he’d fucked up, she still believed he was trustworthy.

  It was hard to imagine she was the same woman who’d needed to be coaxed into water above her knees.

  He spread her thighs wider and slowly thrust his cock into her pussy.

  Going in was always the easy part so long as he entered in one smooth thrust without pulling out. He’d been told that the spines felt nice going in, like a massage. He felt the vibrations in the water as she moaned. Unable to help himself, he kissed her breathless, then filled her lungs.

  When he was fully seated in her gently clutching heat, he paused, hoping she enjoyed this final moment of normalcy. He brought his arms under her arms and behind her shoulders, to brace her head and neck. Like this, with her soft body forced tight against his chest, there wouldn’t be any way for her to pull away from him and accidentally inhale water.

  She sensed something changing, and her body began to stiffen. He needed her to relax, so he took an extra few moments, tasting her lips, kissing her hard to distract her and giving her air exactly when she needed it.

  Now.

  He sealed his mouth over hers because there was a good chance she’d scream and panic and forget she had her own personalized scuba system.

  She was breathing harder, anticipating what was coming, definitely afraid, but she was excited, too.

  The combination made him swell harder. She felt it, squeezed around him, then went stiff. That squeeze had rubbed him the wrong direction, and now she was getting her first taste of what his cock truly felt like.

  Then, to his surprise, she twisted her hips. Not much… Her self-preservation instincts held her back, and he suspected she was exaggerating her eagerness as a way to remind him that she was fully invested in their mating. It made him love her even more.

  She exhaled and he took a moment to feed her air. He gripped her tighter, and his eyes on hers, he rocked his hips away and toward her.

  Her muted cry broke his heart even as his cock responded to the feeling of the soft, female channel. She had clamped down on him as best she could, the typical reflex: try to keep him in place.

  But his cock had its own mechanism for staying in place. And his excitement was building. He was going to claim her. The urge was nearly uncontrollable, but he fought it for now.

  Her legs tightened around his waist. She wanted him to continue. Of course she did. Right about now, the aphrodisiacs released by the spines were hitting her bloodstream.

  She squeezed her legs again, and Koenraad stopped trying to hold back. It was a futile exercise anyway at this point.

  He began fucking her deep and hard, and he could feel her shifter-enhanced body repairing the damage almost as fast as he caused it. Her heart hammered, and she was about to come.

  He’d never had a partner orgasm from this. Usually that came later, when they were stuffed full, more aphrodisiac than blood circulating through their veins.

  But he couldn’t let her come. Not yet. He slowly withdrew from her dripping, spasming sex. He gave her air, and then he turned her over.

  She resisted, her hands clinging to his wrists. He waited until she let go, trusting him. Immediately, he thrust his legs between hers and turned her body so that she was scissored across him. He had to firmly hold her in position.

  He liked her like this. He could see her pussy peeking out between her legs. He lustfully admired her perfect ass and breasts, and when she turned her head, her stunning face. Her hair streamed behind her. His siren. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and she didn’t even know.

  Both his cocks were engorged with blood, and they stood proudly erect, more than ready for her.

  He aligned himself with her slit. Her pussy trembled as he inserted only his plump tip, which was smooth and hard, free of spines.

  Bending forward, he gave her air. He couldn’t stay with his mouth pressed on hers, but he was as close as possible. Not for himself but for her, so she would know he was within reach.

  He used his hand to direct his second cock to her ass. The way he had her now, her legs stretched wide, made her a little less resistant than before, but her body fought him. She was trying to force herself to relax, which of course would never work, and her back was stiff with anger and frustration.

  He mimed drinking, then brushed his fingers against her throat. Do you want blood?

  She understood. She shook her head vehemently. If not for the aphrodisiac, he was sure she’d be saying the opposite right now.

  Nodding reassuringly, he leaned forward to give her air again. Then again. She was starting to hyperventilate, anxious, no doubt building it up in her mind and starting to psych herself out.

  He’d learned that with Monroe, her sharp mind was her greatest asset and her biggest liability. She could talk herself into, or out of, just about anything.

  The kindest thing he could do for her was to get it over with. Exactly the thing he hated. But his body was shaking with the need to be inside her, and his teeth ached to bite her neck and shoulder, to claim her.

  It was starting.

  Once more he breathed clean air deep into her lungs, and then his instinct took over.

  Chapter 21

  Monroe had never felt anything like this. She’d never been the type to experiment with drugs, but if they sold this on the street, she’d be an addict.

  Warmth flooded her entire body. She felt like she was glowing, like she was on fire. She felt invincible.

  Koenraad’s cock was positioned at her entrance, just the tip nudging inside. She felt her pussy drenching him, and she wanted to twist her hips and impale herself on him.

  Perhaps she would have if not for his second cock pressing against her ass.

  He kissed her, giving her air, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be fucked. To be ravaged. She wanted to feel all of him, but she couldn’t bring herself to push against him.

  What made it even harder to endure the wait was that she could feel him shaking. With a rippling of his muscular abs, his powerful torso bent toward her almost as if he was in pain. He forced air into her lungs in a rush, and she knew he was grasping at the last of his self-control.

  And then he was pressing forward, her ass stretching full, his cock squeezing inside her. Her eyes went wide from the pain, but it was bearable. So far. She prayed he’d take his time, give her a moment to acclimate, but he penetrated forever deeper.

  It hurt, the stretching, but it felt so good…

  She wouldn’t be able to stop him now. This was going to happen; the mating was bigger than either of them, and already he was moving his hips in an arc, thrusting.

  She felt the spines inside her—couldn’t not feel them—but they didn’t hurt in the way she’d feared. When he thrust, it was heaven. When he pulled back, it was hell, but it felt… good. Pain wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable, but this was.

&nbs
p; His mouth connected with hers. More air. Then he was moving again, and she couldn’t believe this was happening, that he’d penetrated her fully, front and back, her pussy and her ass overstuffed with throbbing, hungry cocks, yet she was still, somehow, alive.

  He dragged his teeth over her shoulder, and it wasn’t like before when they’d had sex and he was teasing her, biting and then backing off.

  This was for real.

  At the moment he was only nibbling, but there was a threat behind it, like a wild animal taking a test bite.

  That was what sharks did, she remembered suddenly. They took test bites before going in for the kill.

  She started to panic, but the warmth that swirled around her was like magic, and as his hips slammed into hers, jamming both her holes with hard, male cock, she closed her eyes, threw back her head and enjoyed the orgasm.

  It radiated through her pussy, in her ass, and all along the wall between. From her hips to her thighs, everything felt amazing, and it was spreading, her entire body becoming one giant erogenous zone.

  Koenraad’s jaws clamped down on the slope between her neck and her right shoulder, and her eyes went wide in shock. She struggled, but he held her tight, only releasing her in order to take a better, stronger hold.

  Her arms flailed as she tried to get to the surface, but all she managed to do was churn water; the shark shifter’s throbbing, thrusting cocks remained buried deep as he worked her holes mercilessly, his jaws clamped around her neck and shoulder like a steel trap.

  One of his hands unexpectedly grabbed her left breast from underneath. He tweaked her nipple hard, and she gasped.

  She was out of air, the discomfort in her lungs turning to desperate burning.

  Now she tried to push for the surface in earnest, but he wasn’t done with her. This was the mating. He’d warned her that once it started, it would go to completion. That he had no control over it.

  His other hand found her clit, and it was the exact right moment because she didn’t know how much more pain she could take, how much longer she could hold her breath.

  Sharp teeth raked down her shoulder blade, and the hand on her nipple moved to her head, forced her to turn. Koenraad bit her lips, didn’t seem to be able to help himself. The shift in his position pulled his cocks partially out, the spines punishing her yet filling her with warmth until she felt she was going out of her mind with euphoria.

  His biting kisses were frenzied, but she was desperate for air, so she allowed him to hurt her until her lungs were full.

  Then he shoved himself deeper into her. She could tell from the speed and force of his thrusts that he was coming. She was ready to cry with relief, but also sadness because this was the most amazing experience of her life, and it was almost over.

  Yet his cocks remained hard, and then he bit her again, this time even harder, ripping her flesh.

  There was no warmth with his bites. They hurt, the pain knifing through her orgasmic bliss.

  This time, he stayed clamped on her, and she would have beat at him, pushed him away—or tried to. It was like he knew she’d reached her limit because his finger found her nub and he brought her to orgasm again and again. And he was still coming, too, but there was so much of it that it leaked out of her even though he remained erect and thrusting inside her.

  She needed air, and he gave it to her, fast, then his hand was over her mouth, and his middle finger shoving between her lips. She understood that she was supposed to bite him, to help her endure this.

  But as he raked razor sharp teeth over her raw skin, she closed her eyes and began sucking him. It wasn’t his cock, but it brought her comfort as they thrashed in the water.

  His arm snaked around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

  He pounded her pussy and ass, and she was raw everywhere. His hand over her mouth was squeezing too tight. His teeth had ripped open her neck, shoulder and back, and still he held on, claiming her, marking her body as his for all the rest of time.

  Chapter 22

  Koenraad leaned against the door frame, staring at his sleeping mate. His woman. Monroe had kicked off the sheets sometime in the twenty minutes since he’d slipped out of bed. Tantalizingly, her legs were spread.

  He looked. Of course he looked. He was male, and she was his, on their yacht, naked in their bed—though he hadn’t yet told her that she shared his wealth. She’d probably make it awkward, and complain and fuss, but he’d get his way in the end.

  Inhaling deeply to draw her scent into his lungs, he moved forward to get a closer look. He wanted to make sure the claiming hadn’t permanently hurt her. Though mostly he just wanted to appreciate the beauty of her luscious body.

  Her pink inner folds were damp. He considered licking her. The last few days had been so hectic, he hadn’t even begun to get his fill of eating her pussy.

  “You’d better not be staring at my ass,” she mumbled.

  “Damn right I am,” he said.

  She turned over and flipped her hair out of her face with a lazy gesture. “Did I dream last night?”

  “Nope,” he said. “I really made you spaghetti out of a jar. Was it as amazing as you’d dreamed?”

  She laughed and groaned, and he reached down to tug her toes. “How do you feel?”

  “Oh my god.” Her eyes widened in fear. “Can you check? Because it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  She turned over and dragged her long hair over one shoulder. There, on the right side of her back and neck, was the series of bites, permanently imbedded in her skin. Somehow they looked like shark bites even though he’d been in human form the entire time. If there had been any doubt that the claiming had worked—and there wasn’t—that would have settled it.

  “Either it’s permanent, or you were off with another shark while I was making breakfast,” he said.

  “I thought about it, and it wasn’t so bad. Not even the claiming bite,” she said, grinning and looking over her shoulder. “Kinda like getting a tattoo. A temporary one.”

  “I’m ready for round two when you are.”

  She shuddered, then sat up and twisted her arm behind her head, trying to feel the scars. “Tell me breakfast isn’t bagels from a freezer.”

  He frowned. “We’re in the middle of the ocean, and there’s no land for hours.”

  “Is that a yes on the bagels?”

  “No. No bagels.”

  “Good.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with my bagels?”

  “They’re freezer burned. How can you not taste that?”

  “Everything that isn’t freshly made is freezer burned,” he said, blinking. “If the eggs come out of the refrigerator, guess what?”

  “You can taste that?”

  He shrugged. “Anyway, no bagels. It’s frozen waffles.”

  She groaned, but she was smiling. God, when she smiled, it killed him. He wanted to make her smile every minute of every day.

  Her probing fingers caressed her new scar. “It’s so weird,” she breathed.

  “I think it’s hot. Now, come to breakfast.”

  They spent the first half of the day making love. He knew the clock was ticking, but he needed this. They both did.

  In the afternoon, he sat her down. “I’m going to teach you everything about sharks. If you ever have to fight one, you’ll at least have a better chance.”

  “Ok.”

  He unrolled a diagram of shark anatomy and pointed. “The obvious weak spot is the eye, but we’ve got a tough lid that covers it when we’re biting, so you have to time it just right.”

  “Shit,” she said. “You’re invincible.”

  “We’re not. Pay attention. It could save your life.” His tone was scaring her, he realized. He wished he could be like Spencer and deliver somber news in a playful manner.

  Hours later, they were both exhausted, and he could tell by the increasingly “witty” answers to his questions that she was running out of patience, so he called an end to lessons for the day.

&n
bsp; “Tomorrow you’ll come into the water with me,” he said.

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “If a shark comes after you, I don’t want your brain to be stuck in ‘eek, a shark!’ mode.”

  She shivered. “If I have to.”

  “You do. I’ve got a wetsuit you can wear that will protect you from my skin.”

  “I have to touch you?”

  “You’ll fight me. Apply the things you’ve learned.” He didn’t tell her that he’d need to hide her away soon, someplace safe, while he resumed his search for Brady.

  He went into the galley and poured two glasses of wine. Monroe came up behind him as he was finishing, and she wrapped her arms around him.

  “You deserve a real wedding,” he said. “As soon as this is over—”

  “I know,” she said. “And there will be ponies and fireworks and cake as tall as a palm tree, and I’ll have a dress with a fifty-foot-long train.”

  He knocked his glass against hers as he handed it to her. “Deal.”

  She took a hurried sip. “I was thinking… Maybe you could tell me about Brady. I don’t remember everything from that night, just bits and pieces. Do you have photos here?”

  “Just one. The rest are in Tureygua.” He opened a cabinet and pulled off the photo taped to the inside of the door. It was from Brady’s fifth birthday party, and he was elbow-deep in a ship kit. Victoria had allowed Koenraad to take him that night because she’d known he’d be impossible to put to bed. Koenraad hadn’t minded. He’d let Brady work on the kit until he fell asleep next to it.

  An ache spread through his chest. He missed his son.

  “A towhead,” Monroe said. “Why am I not surprised? He’s adorable.” She looked closer at the photo. “Tell me about him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Her warm brown eyes met his. “Tell me about my new son. His favorite food, his favorite color—everything. And who takes care of him when you’re gone?”

  He took a deep breath. “The first thing you should know is that he’s an amazing kid. I don’t know why he attacked you, but that’s not Brady. He’s not well.”