Page 19 of Saved By the Selkie

“Now there’s a sight,” I tell him as I start moving in him again. He smiles at me, and a growl rises in the back of my throat. I don’t want him smiling, not until he’s come once, maybe twice, and is dopey with post-orgasmic bliss.

I lean forward, bracing my hands on the mattress on either side of him. “How do you feel?” I ask. I have no idea how to get a selkie off. I need Lir to tell me what he wants.

“Good,” he agrees, then gives this breathy little gasp. I’m not sure if it’s because he pinched his own nipple or because of the punctuated thrust I just gave him. He flutters his lashes as he looks up at me with those big doe eyes of his.

“Can I make you feel better?” I reach one hand up and cup his cheek, brushing away silvery strands of his hair. His skin is hot to the touch.

He nods, almost shyly. “How?” I ask instantly, eagerly. It surprises me how much I want to please him. I’ve never cared so little about my own pleasure in the moment, but I don’t mind the change.

He can’t hold my gaze, almost like he’s embarrassed. He’s heartbreakingly adorable, and I’ll do anything for him. Anything.

“Harder,” he says, his voice low, almost like he wants to keep his desires a secret.

“Harder,” I repeat, then put my hand back down on the mattress. “All right—you asked for it.”

I slam into him before he can reply. When I push in a second time, the look of surprise on his face morphs into one of carnal delight. His eyes flutter shut, his mouth drops open, and he pants my name like a prayer.

The sight fills me with coiling pleasure, hot and possessive—Lir is mine, and I’m driven by animal need to have him, to mark him. I push to my knees, grabbing his hips as I go, dragging him flush with me, watching his head roll back against the mattress, the low groan of pleasure torn from his throat reverberating through the room. He claws at the sheets, and I grit my teeth to drill into him harder, faster.

I want him dizzy with pleasure, as seasick with desire as I am myself. I can feel pressure building at the base of my spine, hot and frantic, and I know I’m not going to last, not with him tightening around me like that, the slap of flesh against flesh filling my ears, him moaning my name.

I want to take him with me. I reach down and grab at his forgotten cock, wrapping my hand tight around it, squeezing.

“Oh, yes.” Lir’s voice is ragged as I stroke him. He rocks his hips, rolling up to meet my thrusts, frenetic and out of sync. He trembles everywhere. “Yes, Aramis, I’m gonna—”

He doesn’t get the words out before he’s coming with a choked cry. He stills against me, hips jerking reflexively, his cock spilling over my hand, clear liquid splashing over his belly. He lands his hands on my shoulders, and I’m a bit ashamed to admit it’s the bite of his claws that push me over the edge. I bury myself to the hilt and spill inside him, head spinning, limbs shaking.

I think I forget how to breathe for a couple of seconds.

When I come back to myself, I’m curled on my side, facing Lir, whose expression reflects the same dazed pleasure I feel swimming in my veins. We’re both panting, flushed and sweaty, and we stare at each other for a moment, unable to speak.

Lir smiles suddenly, secret and shy, averting his gaze as he laughs. I respond in kind, then reach for his hand, twining our fingers. “How was that?” I manage.

“Good.” His voice is still breathy. “Really … good.”

I pat his hand. He wriggles a little closer, then drapes his head over my arm. Absently, I note his feet are dangling off the edge of the bed.

“Think you can do it again?”

I look back at him, surprised. His expression is completely earnest, not smarmy or smirky at all. It’s an honest question. “Are you … not satisfied?” I ask. I’m both offended and terrified—I stake my reputation upon never leaving a partner unsatisfied.

He shakes his head. His dopey smile disappears when he registers the look on my face. “Aramis,” he says, “I’m in heat.”

He grabs my hand, squeezing until his claws bite in. He rolls closer, growling in my ear, “I’m gonna need you to fuck me for days.”

“O-oh,” I say, both excitement and fear building in the pit of my stomach.

Lir’s laughter is deep and rolling, even as he presses up and nudges me onto my back. He straddles me, dragging a clawed fingertip down the center of my chest. “That’s okay,” he practically purrs. “You rest there—I’ll take what I need.”

I slide my hands to his hips, steadying him. “Are you kidding me?” I glance up at him. “Like I’m gonna let you do all the work.”

There’s a stream of moonlight beaming in the windows now, and the play of shadows should make him horrifying when he grins, all those sharp teeth on full display, but I have never been more turned on in my life.

I’ll give him whatever he needs, whatever he wants—andmore.

twelve

Lir