Page 63 of Saved By the Selkie

I roll to face him again, drag my claw-tipped finger down the center of his chest. “Are you game to try for that next pup now, or do you think we should give ourselves a head start on figuring it all out?”

“That depends,” Aramis says, but he lets me roll on top of him, pinning him to the bed. I shove his nightshirt up and straddle him. He doesn’t object, hands sliding up the insides of my thighs as he looks up at me. “Doyou want another pup so soon?”

How is he punching all my buttons? I’d never wanted pups at all, let alone two of them, but here’s Aramis offering me the chance.

“Yes,” I hiss, grinding against him.

He gestures to his slowly rising cock. “Then have at.” He tucks his hands behind his head, a lazy grin on his face.

Bastard thinks I’m going to do all the work. Well, he might be right this round, but I can feel the fever creeping up my spine, and I know we’re not leaving here for the next several days.

I line his head up with my hole, then sink down on him, inhaling sharply as I do. His eyes flutter shut, and his hands fly to my hips, holding me steady.

When he opens his eyes, he lifts a hand to my face. “I missed this,” he says, his voice gone strangely husky. “I missedyou.”

“You feel so right,” I pant, my breath already deserting me. I’m not going to last long.

From the way Aramis’s hand tightens on my hip, he’s not going to either.

I grab my cock and stroke, trying to keep a rhythm as I rock up and down on Aramis’s dick, and next thing I know, we’re coming together, me with a shout, and Aramis with a reverent whisper.

I barely roll off him, collapsing on the mattress. Both of us lie there for a moment or two, dazed, until our breathing calms.

Aramis glances over at me. “Think it’ll catch?”

I snort. “Unlikely.”

Aramis lifts his head a little. “Should I keep trying then?”

I glance at him. “Maybe after a nap,” I yawn, then rest my head on the pillow.

Aramis’s breathing evens out, and I know he’s fallen back to sleep. It takes me a moment or two longer, but the creak of the ship is drowned out by the crash of the waves, and I let the soothing rhythm take me under.

epilogue

Lir

E

ven after six months in New York, I am not used to it at all. The stench of humanity is everywhere, and the hustle and bustle of the port doesn’t ever die down. There are always voices, lanterns, carriages rattling through the night.

It’s impossible to sleep if you ask me, especially now, with the snow melting and the sun rising earlier and birds trilling in the trees hot on the heels of the last drunken neighbor going to bed.

Or maybe it’s Squall, Blizz’s new little brother, who hasn’t figured out that he’s been weaned yet, poking at my chest that keeps me up.

My eyes pop open and I glower at the bedsheets, fingers curling into the fabric as Squall noses at me again. I sigh and relent when he whimpers; he is only three months old, after all. I think Aramis is maybe a bit indulgent with the children, but he tells me I don’t need to be so hard-nosed.

I’m not trying to be. It’s just instinct. Squall is fine and can fend for himself, and I have to think about the next pup.

I roll over, cradling Squall with one arm and dragging my free hand down my face. I’m not sure why I let Aramis mount me while I was in heat. I swore up and down I wasn’t going to be like Vati, and yet here I am.

I glance down at Squall, who has stopped nosing at me and simply fallen asleep. The dregs of a smile curl my lips. I guess he was looking for something other than sustenance.

Although I suppose comfort is a kind of sustenance.

I cuddle my second pup, who curls in against me. At least one of us can sleep. I’m supposed to be taking a nap, but trying to do that in the middle of the afternoon in New York is the most challenging task I’ve ever had in my life.

I’m longing for Mythos—the sunny shores, the ocean breeze. The solitude. The silence of a cove or a grotto.