Each Step Like Knives (8 page)

Jeenai stood tall, not ashamed of the change in his
form. "What do you want, oh, my brothers? If only to mock me, I'll
take my leave."

"We didn't come to mock, oh, my brother." Krall made
a menacing gesture toward Offren and Persis, who subsided with
snide grins. "We come to see your success."

"Or failure," put in Tyde. "Have you had the fuck
with your split-tail fem yet?"

"Her name is Helena," Jeenai told them.

They looked at each other, surprised by the voice
issuing from his throat.

Gile and Moral, who had shared the same womb, spoke
together. "When will you return to the sea, Jeenai? We miss your
presence at the revels and in the hunt."

Jeenai shook his head. "I don't plan to return, oh,
my brothers." He looked over his shoulder, back to the house where
a single light burned in the window for him. "I love this fem. I
want to stay with her, if she'll have me."

"And if she doesn't, you'll turn to foam and die!"
Offren gestured angrily. "You'll give your life for a human
emotion? You are a fool, oh, my brother!"

"You can believe such, if you want." Jeenai had no
desire to fight with his brother, or even to defend himself. "I
have made my choice. It is what I want."

"Then go," said Krall, the only of his brothers who
seemed to understand Jeenai's desire. "Leave us, oh, my brother,
before these others drag you back into the ocean for spite."

They would do it, too, and he saw it in their eyes.
Persis, who prided himself on being one of the best warriors of the
Carrageenai. Tyde, who followed Persis in all he did. Offren, who
bore a scar from an encounter with a human boat, and hated all
split-tails because of it. Finally, Gile and Moral, who thought and
acted as one.

Jeenai could fight them all, but that meant he'd
lose his legs. He'd lose Helena. Instead, he turned and did what he
had never before done in his life when faced with a conflict. He
ran.

For
the first time since discovering her fiancé's true nature, Helena
had slept the entire night through with only pleasant dreams. She
woke rested in an empty bed, with sunlight shining golden through
her window and a pleasant ache over every single inch of her
body.

She rolled over and hugged her pillow, which smelled
of him. At some time during the night, her dream man must have
shared the bed with her, though now he was gone. A wave of warmth
swept over her at the memories of what they had shared. Had it only
been two days ago that she'd found him?

Two days of bliss. Two days of the most incredible
sex with the most perfect man. She sniffed the pillow again to
convince herself this wasn't all just part of her dream. If this
wasn't a dream, that meant one of two things. This was real, or she
was crazy.

"I don't feel crazy," Helena said aloud. She felt
incredibly satisfied. She'd never had sex like that, not even with
herself. She'd come so many times she'd lost count.

And multiple orgasms for him? If she'd understood
his sign language, that meant he'd come nearly as many times as she
had. Without ejaculating, too. Pregnancy wasn't a concern for her
anyway, she was on the pill, but she ought to have insisted he wear
a condom. Then again, she thought with a grin she couldn't seem to
get rid of, how likely was it that a merman would have STDs?

Her smile faded. Unless she really was crazy, and he
was some lunatic she'd found on the beach and brought home to fuck
indiscriminately.

She thought of the way he communicated with his
hands, his webbed fingers, the color of his skin and the black
depths of his eyes. If he wasn't a merman, what was he?

Helena had too much instinct for self-preservation
not to chide herself. She'd been irresponsible to bring him here in
the first place. He needed medical help, but a hospital would
quickly figure out he wasn't human. What would they do to him
there? Fill him with needles, run tests? Maybe even keep him
prisoner while they tried to figure out what, exactly, he was?

She shook her head. If it was crazy to believe the
man sitting in her living room was a merman, then she was crazy.
Something in her gut told her he'd told her the truth. His elegant
gestures had painted a picture in the air for her. She didn't
understand everything he tried to say, just as he didn't get all of
her words either.

So where did that leave her? She had a man in her
house. She didn't know his full name. She didn't understand how
he'd come to her. Yet just the thought of him made her clit and
nipples tingle with renewed desire.

After a quick shower, she found him sitting on the
couch, watching television with the sound off. Maybe with his skill
for sign language he could understand it better that way.

"We need to talk."

He turned his head toward her, then pushed the
remote control to turn off the set.

He learns fast.

He got up from the couch and came toward her. Helena
backed away, just a step, but he took the hint and stopped.

"I need to figure out where you came from."

He pointed out the window again.

"I know from the ocean." She sighed. "I think I need
a bit more proof."

He looked puzzled for a minute, then made a rapid
series of motions with his hands and added a low, almost barking
noise.

She held up her hands. "Stop. Just...listen, can you
write?"

His brow furrowed. She went to the kitchen junk
drawer and handed him a pen and a notepad. "Draw? Write?"

It was hopeless to assume he would be able to write
when he couldn't speak. He took the pen from her and held it up in
front of his eyes. Then he looked at the pad. He shrugged.

"You don't know what a pen is, do you? Or a
notepad?"

He shook his head and looked troubled. More hand
motions, a few she recognized from him doing them before. Helena
sighed again. If she was frustrated, she could only imagine how
annoyed he must be.

She made a scribbling motion with her hand. He
copied it, and made a sound of amazement at the line of ink that
appeared on the paper. His face lit up. He did it again.

"Can you draw a picture of what you looked like
before?"

He moved the pen on the paper some more, but only
scribbles appeared. He bit his lip in concentration, but couldn't
seem to master the art. Helena put her hand on his to stop him.

"It's okay. I can't draw either."

He looked down at her hand on his, then twisted his
palm to link fingers with her. The webbing was softer than she'd
expected. In another moment, he had pulled her into his arms. His
body was warm and firm. She settled against him like they were two
puzzle pieces. She tilted her head to look up at him.

"Johnny, you'll have to forgive me if all of this is
a little difficult to fathom."

He made that gesture she thought meant love again.
Seeing it made her heart pitter patter, and she scolded herself for
being foolish. She had no idea if that's what he meant, and even if
it was, it was ridiculous to think he could actually love her.
They'd just met!

"What am I going to do with you?" she asked aloud,
though the question was meant for herself.

He got a glint in his eye she couldn't mistake. The
front of his borrowed pants expanded. Helena backed away, heart
pounding.

"No!"

Johnny paused, again looking puzzled. He reached for
her hands. She didn't pull away. She couldn't. She should. She just
couldn't.

"I just showered," she whispered as he bent his head
to capture her lips.

He laughed against her mouth and reached up to
stroke her wet hair. His grip settled on her shoulders momentarily
before sweeping down over her back and settling on her butt. He
pulled her closer to him. His erection rose against her belly and
Helena had no problem imagining it inside her.

A lover who couldn't talk. One who could come
multiple times. One who seemed to care solely for her pleasure. How
many women would have begged to be where she was? Helena's head
swirled from the sensual onslaught of Johnny's kisses.

She really ought to push him away. To stop this. But
it felt so good, so irresistible. Maybe just one more time...

Johnny lifted her as though she weighed no more than
a feather. For a moment, though, his face tightened in
concentration like he was in pain, and Helena felt self-conscious.
After that, he started kissing her again and she forgot to worry if
she'd overindulged in too many desserts.

He found her bedroom and kicked the door open. He
put her down on the bed as smoothly as though they were flying. He
covered her, but didn't overwhelm her. He was a big man, and
strong, but not intimidating. He settled between her legs and began
to rock gently against her.

The towel she'd been wearing had disappeared
somewhere along the way, and she was naked beneath him. His mouth
left hers and traced a trail of liquid fire along her jaw, her
throat, the curve of her shoulder and the peak of her nipple. He
suckled there for a few moments, until she began to wriggle under
him. He flicked his tongue once more on the taut bud then drifted
lower.

Could she possibly come again after being satisfied
so many times already? Helena had no idea if her body was capable
of such rejuvenation, but she was happy to try and find out. Her
pussy tingled as Johnny lapped at it. He suckled her swollen clit
with the same finesse and consideration he'd shown her nipple. His
finger slipped inside her, and Helena lifted her hips to meet his
thrust.

The next instant, he moved up her body and smoothly
sheathed his cock deep inside her. He rested there for a moment,
his forehead pressed to hers and his chest hot on her breasts. Then
he began to move.

Earlier in the kitchen, she'd been overcome with
desire. Their coupling had been frenzied. Now, Johnny moved as
slowly as though they floated in water. Gentle and rocking. Every
thrust pressed his pelvis against her clit while his penis filled
her.

Her first orgasm rippled slowly through her, while
the second built almost immediately after. She tilted her pelvis
upward and used her heels to urge him to thrust into her harder.
When he did, she came a third time from the force of his thrusts
alone.

A man who could have multiple orgasms might
concentrate so much on his own climaxes he wouldn't notice his
partner's, but Johnny wasn't like that. As her final climax faded,
his body shuddered with his own. He kissed her breathless, then
laid softly down on her until his body stopped twitching. He didn't
wait for her to ask before he rolled off and curled his arms around
her.

Helena barely had time to ponder at his
consideration because her eyes closed and she slept.

"I can't
believe I just scrogged you like a monkey for the sixth time in
twenty-four hours." Helena murmured the words, uncertain until she
heard her voice that she'd spoken aloud.

Johnny merely sighed and pulled her closer. His hand
stroked her hair from the crown down to her shoulders, then back
again. The gesture felt somehow way more intimate than having her
thighs clamped around his ears had. Helena sat up, suddenly
uncomfortable.

"I wanted a man who couldn't talk," she told him. He
looked at her with his head tilted. She touched the hands that had
played her like an orchestra. With his fingers pressed together,
she couldn't even see the webbing.

She didn't want to think about that right now. She
got out of bed and motioned to him. "I think we need to get out of
here for a while."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed without
hesitation, though she noticed his face tightened when he put his
feet on the floor. Naked, he stood, and she almost lost her
resolve. He was magnificent. Tall, lean, with a cock that wouldn't
quit and even now, despite the hours of lovemaking they'd already
shared, twitched and began to rise.

"Hold on, stud-muffin." Helena held up her hand and
laughed. "This cowgirl needs a break from riding. I'm going to be
too sore to stand if we keep up this pace."

She didn't really hope he understood her, but he
smiled and gave her a leer she could easily recognize. He said
something with his talented hands then repeated the motions slowly,
and in a simpler manner.

"Why do I get the idea you're talking down to me?"
She watched him make the motions again. "You want to know if I
would like to walk somewhere."

He nodded then pointed out the window that
overlooked the driveway.

"Not the beach?"

His eyes looked shadowed for a moment. Then he shook
his head. He pointed again to the sandy path that wound from her
house toward the narrow lane that wound through the houses on this
part of the island.

"You want to walk there?"

He nodded again and gave her a grin she absolutely
couldn't resist. "Okay."

He headed for the door and she put out a hand to
stop him. "Wait a minute. You can't go like that."