Rainlashed (17 page)

She shook her head. “I do not like your coat. I have a better idea.” She lay her seal skin out on the grass, sat down cross-legged on it, and patted it invitingly. “Come, join me here.”

Her every word, her every simple movement, was more erotic than his wildest fantasy come to life. Without taking his eyes off her, he kicked off his boots, shoved his breeches over his hips and pulled his shirt over his head.

Her seal skin was soft and warm and rippled slightly under his weight as if it were still alive. He lay on his back on the warm fur and pulled her on top of him. Her skin caressed his naked back, while her warm body lay atop his own, sprawled over him as if she belonged there.

He put his arms around her and held her close. There was no question about it—she
did
belong there. No one else had ever made him feel so right or so whole.

Or so hard.

He shifted her a little on his stomach to give his already engorged cock room to grow even further. If he did not make love to her right now, he was going to explode. He just knew it. There was only so much desire a man could take before it mastered him, and he became a slave to the demands of his loins, instead of the other way around. He was fast approaching that point.

Her nipples were peaked and hard. She gasped as he slid her up his body so he could reach them, and take them into his mouth.

If his desires were not so urgent, he could have sucked on her breasts all day and night. “You taste better than cherries,” he groaned, as he finally let them free.

She lay on top of him, her body plastered against his, feeling the power of the wind and the waves rise in her. She no longer wanted to make the elements rage and roar for her sake, for pity of her tied to a life that she could not lead. With a gentle touch of her mind, she raised a gentle breeze to chase away the lowering rain clouds and let the bright sun shine through in a clear blue sky.

The sun was warm on her back as it dried off the last of the misting rain. Stretched out in the sunshine, languid and unhurried now that she was so close to fulfilling her desire for this man again, wanted these moments of perfect peace and even desire to last for hours, days even. There was no greater happiness than to have him in her arms and to have his mouth on her body, tasting her as if she were a delicious feast set out for him to enjoy.

Her nipples were flinted pebbles with the suckling of his mouth and her pussy was wet with the joy of his touch.

She brushed her nipples against his, and was rewarded with a low groan as his became as hard and tight as hers. It was good to know she had such power over him.

His nipples were not the only part of him that was hard and tight. She shifted on him a little, reveling in the feeling of his hardness against her belly. He was as hard and unyielding as stone, and she was suddenly beset with an urgent desire to taste him, to taste the scent of the sea that was part of him.

Slowly she slid her body down against his, licking and tasting him as she went, until she reached where she wanted to be.

Crouched in between his thighs, she bent her head and took his cock into her mouth.

She closed her eyes in bliss as her lips closed over his shaft. By all that she held dear, how she had wanted this. She sucked gently on him, reveling in the salty taste and the iron hardness of him.

Her own pussy was dripping with the delight of having his throbbing cock in her mouth. Not breaking the suction of her mouth for a moment, she rubbed her thighs together, aiming for some measure of relief for the urgent desire that was building in her.

He moved upward, holding his shoulders and torso just off the ground and took her body in his arms. “Come here to me,” he ordered her, pulling her mouth off his cock.

She had not finished, not by any means. She ached for his salty come in her mouth and the knowledge that she had pleasured him in such a way. “I want to taste more of you,” she complained, resisting his efforts to move her.

“You can taste as much of me as you want.” His hands on her hips, he turned her body around so his mouth could reach her cunt. “But do not be a greedy-puss. I want to taste you too.”

And then he took his mouth to her pussy and licked her clit in long, slow licks until she was trembling with need and any thought of complaining had gone right out of her head. He was her master and she was his slave, and she would do whatever he wanted her to do, if only he would lick her like this forever.

She focused her attention on his cock again, her tongue seeking out every ridge to lick and suck. Balancing herself on one hand, she reached down with her other hand to massage his balls, grown small and tight with the urgency of his lust.

His cock was pulsating wildly with every beat of his heart, and so engorged that she almost feared it would burst. He was so close to coming she could almost feel his orgasm stretch out to envelop her.

She was reaching the edge. She was almost there. Holding out was getting more and more impossible. Then he sucked hard on her clit, just as he thrust two solid fingers into her, and she felt her orgasm sweep over her like a tidal wave.

With the last of her consciousness, she sucked him just as hard back again, massaging his balls with eager strokes. Her instant reward was the salty taste of his come spurting into her mouth and the groan he gave as if the world had ended.

And then she was lost in the depths of her own pleasure, intermingling with his until she could no longer tell where her body ended and his began.

Chapter Eleven

He felt empty. Drained of all feeling and emotion. “This changes nothing, does it?” He wanted to weep, to rage out against the unfairness of the world, but he did not. He just looked at her, lying there naked on her skin, and loved her with a hopeless passion.

“It changes nothing.” Her voice was curiously flat and empty.

“You still will not marry me.” It was a statement rather than a question. He already knew what her answer would be. She would not turn human for his sake.

“I will not marry you. I cannot.”

“I understand.” And he did understand. He had asked too much of her. He would not give up his life as a human to live with her beneath the waves as a seal. The thought was so utterly alien it was inconceivable. Yet that was what he had expected her to do when he had stolen away her skin. It was no wonder she had nearly died of it.

Maya slid off her skin and on to her feet. “I should leave you now. You will not be in danger from the selkie folk anymore. They have sent their vengeance out for you once, and you escaped it. If you do not sin against us again, they will not visit their wrath on you again.”

Reluctantly he got to his feet in his turn. The feel of Maya’s seal skin was almost as warm and loving as the touch of her own soft, human skin. He wanted to roll himself up in it, wrap himself in her softness and stay there forever.

Vengeance or no, he would sit on the beach and watch for her.

He resisted the urge to grab hold of her skin and claim it as his own again. The temptation was so strong to have her in his power again, even for a single day, but he fought his baser desires and won. He bent down, picked up the skin and held it out to her. “Will you come to me again?”

She took the skin from his outstretched hands and hugged it to her breast. “I do not know.”

His hand reached out of its own volition to stroke the skin.

She flinched away from his reach.

He drew back, overcome with guilt that he had so damaged her trust in him. He would woo her patiently and lovingly from now on—if she would only let him near her. “I will wait on the shore for you to return to me. I will always be waiting for you.”

“I may not ever come back.”

“I know. I will wait for you anyway.”

* * * * *

Maya lay on her back out at sea, the warm sun on her stomach. Making love with him again had scared her. Her feelings for him had been so intense and so passionate that she felt overwhelmed by them. She had to escape, to be by herself and to think. She could not make what would be the most important decisions of her life when her emotions were in such turmoil. More than anything else she needed peace, just a few moments of solitude amongst the ocean waves.

Iain Argyle. She was in love with him more deeply than she knew a woman could love. It was not a passing fancy. She would love him until the day she died. She knew that now.

They had made love one more time but it was not enough. It would never be enough. The more time she spent with him, the more time she wanted to spend with him. She would spend all her time with him if she could but she could not be a human all the time. He had tried to force that choice on her, but she simply could not make the leap. She had too much seal in her.

She could not be a human always but that was not the end of the world. She could still see him when she chose, if he still wanted her.

And, if he loved her deeply and was braver than most humans, there was another way that might be open to them.

* * * * *

Maya struggled up the steep path to the top of the cliff and over the grass towards the manor house. Her legs were growing stronger and surer with every foray she made into the world of humans. She looked down at them with some complacency. They would never be as powerful as her seal’s tail, but they were far from the useless appendages she had at first thought them to be. They plodded sturdily over the grass, carrying her upright with ease.

And right now they were carrying her towards the house of her lover. She could ask no more of them than that.

Still, the manor house was set some way back from the shore, and she was tiring when at last she reached the graveled driveway that led to the front door.

With weary feet, she plodded up the driveway. The manor house and its gardens were deserted, not so much as a groom or a gardener was to be seen.

The front door was unlatched. She pushed it open and stepped inside.

Her way was barred by the housekeeper, who stood in the hallway, her arms akimbo. “What have ye come back for?” the old woman demanded, her voice trembling with suspicion.

She gave the woman a tremulous smile. “To see the master.”

Still the housekeeper did not move. “Have ye come back to harm him? I’m warning you, if you have, you’ll have to get through me before you can reach him. I’m not defending what he did to you, mind. He did a wicked thing in stealing your skin, and that’s for sure. But he gave it back again and fair’s fair, and you shouldn’t hold a grudge. I won’t let you at him to hurt him.”

Maya looked her straight in the eyes. “I did not come back to hurt him.”

“You did not?” The housekeeper smoothed her hands on the apron tied over her ample hips. “Then what are you here for? And no lies, mind, or I’ll box your ears for you, selkie or no.”

“I missed him.”

The worried frown on the housekeeper’s face faded. “You have come back of your own free will, then?”

“I missed him,” she repeated.

The old woman’s face broke out into a huge, gap-toothed smile. “Well, I have to tell you that the master will be mighty glad to see you and no mistake. He’s been like a sick cat for days, moping and mooching around as if he had nothing better to do with himself.” She flapped her apron at Maya. “Go on with you, lass. He’s up in his bedchamber, mourning for you still, I’ll be bound.”

Maya padded up the stairs to the familiar bedchamber. Her master was sitting in the chair by the window where she had once sat, a glass of brandy in his hand, staring sightlessly out at the gardens.

The sight of him tugged at her heart. His face was drawn, with lines of pain etched deeply into his skin. He looked hopelessly, impossibly, alone. “You did not wait for me for long,” she whispered from the doorway.

He looked up at her, his face registering his disbelief. “Maya?”

She stumbled over to him on her aching feet, suddenly unsure of her welcome. She could never give him everything he wanted. Would he want her back on the only terms she could offer him? “You said you would wait for me forever,” she said, reaching out to brush a 1ock of hair away from his face. “And then when I return not an hour later, you are already gone.”

He set the glass of brandy down on the side table. His fingers shook and a splash of brandy slopped out onto the bare wood. He mopped at it absentmindedly with his shirt sleeve. “Are you really there, or is this just a dream?”

She touched the back of his hand lightly with her fingertips, and ran her hand up his arm to the back of his neck. “Does this feel like a dream? Or this?” she asked, as she held him to her and pressed her lips to his.

Her touch woke him from his stupor. He reached up with hungry arms and pulled her into his lap, smothering her with greedy kisses. “You are real enough,” he said at length, when at last he raised his head. “And you are more than I expected to see again.” He stroked her hair lovingly—and possessively. “Having you here with me is more than I dared hope for.”

“I missed you,” she said simply, as she sat in his lap, luxuriating in his touch. She had missed the feeling of his hands on her body, the touch of his lips on hers but most of all she had missed the warmth he had surrounded her with on the cliff on the beach. Then, for the first time, she had known hope—hope that he cared for her as more than a curiosity, that he cared for her as she cared for him.