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Authors: Dawn Thompson
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had brought him to climax like no other the first time. He wanted to feel that again. He wanted to know again the riveting firestorm of drenching heat that rendered him all but senseless, that constricted his balls and gripped him like a seizure until his body begged for release. Not just any release. The blessed release of total surrender to a passion he had never known until now…Until the exquisite mortal beauty underneath him had opened the floodgates of ecstasy and drowned him in the depths of her innocent desire.
He parted the fascinating curls that hid her nub and began to fondle it. Meg writhed in his arms, moving against his strokes, showing him her need. Her moans filled his mouth as he tasted her deeply, savoring the flavor of her, like warm honey laced with the salt of the sea. How he thirsted for that sweet honey.
His fingers slipped inside her, feeling for the special spot that would bring her to rapture, the mysterious mound that when touched drove a woman mad. She bucked in his arms when he found it, her sex seizing his fingers, which he quickly replaced with his bursting cock, driving it into her to the root. She was his so totally then that he failed to hear the hushed murmur echoing along the corridor or to feel the cool influx of currents stirring the air that should have flagged danger until they were upon him, a swarm of female sea lions attacking from all sides.
Simeon withdrew himself unclimaxed in a valiant attempt to shield Meg from the onslaught of great hulking seal bodies slamming into them. She screamed and began to gasp and choke as one butted her in the belly with its head, another crashed into her from behind, and still another collided with her knees until they buckled—not to mention those attacking Simeon with intent to do bodily harm in that quarter. There were too many jealous female selkies to fend off without casualties, and Simeon was hard put to accomplish it.
In a mad rush to drive her out, the selkies rushed Meg along the corridor into the water tunnel. Her lips turned blue. She was losing consciousness. There was no question that they meant to drown her. They were driving her beneath the waves. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Simeon would deal with the consorts later. So much for his pleasant fantasies of Meg existing with him in his world beneath the waves. Plowing through the hulking press of seal bodies, he loosed a bestial roar that reverberated through the water. It cowed the seals, turning them away as effectually as if he’d struck them a blow, though some still lingered on the fringes, milling about with the curious fish that had assembled there to observe the ruckus.
Seizing Meg about the waist, he raised her above the surface of the waves. Sputtering and coughing, she fought to breathe. The breath he’d blown into her nostrils earlier to allow her to exist under water had failed. Terror had broken the spell. Swooping down, he sucked the water from her nostrils and from her throat, then blew his breath into her again and plunged below the waves.
Streaking through the depths with her as he had done before, Simeon scattered the still lingering seals and fish as he plowed through their ranks. Meg had lost consciousness, and he didn’t break the rhythm of his strokes until they’d surged through the heaving breast of the bay.
They surfaced off the coast of the Isle of Mists. The moon had disappeared behind a cloud bank, though the misty drizzle had stopped. Cool, rainwashed air rushed up Simeon’s nostrils. Wet and sweet, it bore a marked difference to the scent of the sea he’d come from. Please the gods, let her be breathing , he begged the deities of the deep, meanwhile carrying her through the creaming froth of surf and silt, fine shells, and pebbles toward shore. Staggering up onto the hard-packed sand, he dropped to his knees and laid Meg down where they would be sheltered in lee of a jutting dune, well hidden from prying eyes. He dropped down beside her.
He parted the fascinating curls that hid her nub and began to fondle it. Meg writhed in his arms, moving against his strokes, showing him her need. Her moans filled his mouth as he tasted her deeply, savoring the flavor of her, like warm honey laced with the salt of the sea. How he thirsted for that sweet honey.
His fingers slipped inside her, feeling for the special spot that would bring her to rapture, the mysterious mound that when touched drove a woman mad. She bucked in his arms when he found it, her sex seizing his fingers, which he quickly replaced with his bursting cock, driving it into her to the root. She was his so totally then that he failed to hear the hushed murmur echoing along the corridor or to feel the cool influx of currents stirring the air that should have flagged danger until they were upon him, a swarm of female sea lions attacking from all sides.
Simeon withdrew himself unclimaxed in a valiant attempt to shield Meg from the onslaught of great hulking seal bodies slamming into them. She screamed and began to gasp and choke as one butted her in the belly with its head, another crashed into her from behind, and still another collided with her knees until they buckled—not to mention those attacking Simeon with intent to do bodily harm in that quarter. There were too many jealous female selkies to fend off without casualties, and Simeon was hard put to accomplish it.
In a mad rush to drive her out, the selkies rushed Meg along the corridor into the water tunnel. Her lips turned blue. She was losing consciousness. There was no question that they meant to drown her. They were driving her beneath the waves. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Simeon would deal with the consorts later. So much for his pleasant fantasies of Meg existing with him in his world beneath the waves. Plowing through the hulking press of seal bodies, he loosed a bestial roar that reverberated through the water. It cowed the seals, turning them away as effectually as if he’d struck them a blow, though some still lingered on the fringes, milling about with the curious fish that had assembled there to observe the ruckus.
Seizing Meg about the waist, he raised her above the surface of the waves. Sputtering and coughing, she fought to breathe. The breath he’d blown into her nostrils earlier to allow her to exist under water had failed. Terror had broken the spell. Swooping down, he sucked the water from her nostrils and from her throat, then blew his breath into her again and plunged below the waves.
Streaking through the depths with her as he had done before, Simeon scattered the still lingering seals and fish as he plowed through their ranks. Meg had lost consciousness, and he didn’t break the rhythm of his strokes until they’d surged through the heaving breast of the bay.
They surfaced off the coast of the Isle of Mists. The moon had disappeared behind a cloud bank, though the misty drizzle had stopped. Cool, rainwashed air rushed up Simeon’s nostrils. Wet and sweet, it bore a marked difference to the scent of the sea he’d come from. Please the gods, let her be breathing , he begged the deities of the deep, meanwhile carrying her through the creaming froth of surf and silt, fine shells, and pebbles toward shore. Staggering up onto the hard-packed sand, he dropped to his knees and laid Meg down where they would be sheltered in lee of a jutting dune, well hidden from prying eyes. He dropped down beside her.
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