Read Online Lord of the Deep by Dawn Thompson - Free Book Online Page B

Her kirtle had been left behind. He scarcely gave that a passing thought. Frantically, he felt for a pulse. It was there, albeit weak, and he gathered her against his hard-muscled chest and shook her until she coughed and sputtered and spat out seawater.
    Relief overwhelmed him, and he crushed her close, rocking her in his arms, burying his hand in the fine-textured silk of her hair, inhaling its honeysuckle fragrance. After a moment, Meg stopped coughing and drew a deep ragged breath. Now that he knew she would be all right, he started to rise. He needed to get back to the sea and deal with the consorts who had nearly killed her. That could not wait. Besides, it wasn’t safe for him alone, without the other selkies when he resisted on the Isle of Mists. Their presence had always earned the respect of the shamans. Alone, without the protection of his sealskin, he was vulnerable—especially considering his association with Meg. Where was Gideon now? The dark lord had always been an enigma but never more so than at this moment in his conspicuous absence.
    “No!” Meg cried, seizing his wrist. “Don’t leave me…I will never see you again!”
    “You will,” he said. “All that is past…But I cannot linger here alone. It isn’t safe for either of us.”
    She seized his arm with both hands. He was aroused just by the sight of her lying there naked, her slick wet skin gleaming in the faint moon glow, her tawny nipples peeking through spirals of her wet, tousled hair. Simeon glanced about. All was still. The strand was vacant. It was still hours before first light. He hesitated, licking his lips in anticipation of his secret fantasy becoming a reality there to the gentle sighing of the waves lapping at the shore on that narrow stretch of mystical beach.
    He reached to soothe his rock-hard shaft, but it would not be soothed. Instead, it leapt to life, its thick bulk throbbing, aching—demanding. Soothing became stroking. Meg’s hand reached to take it from him, and it responded to her touch. It was more than he could bear, and he sank to his knees and gathered her into his arms.
    But first, his fantasy.
    He would fulfill the dream he’d dreamt waking and sleeping since he’d first set eyes upon the little witch of the Isle of Mists. It had become a palpable desire to savor all of her juices since he’d tasted her honey sweetness. This he could not experience to perfection under water, though he had taken a tantalizing taste that first night. To do justice to his appetite, it needed to be done at the palace, which was what he’d intended earlier, or on dry land, where nothing could dilute her succulence.
    It began with a kiss.
    His first taste was slow and deep, his tongue entwined with hers in a ritual that brought deep moans up from the depths of her throat, vibrating through his body. Building a little pillow in the damp sand beneath her, Simeon lifted her hips to rest upon it and bent her knees, spreading her legs wide. He’d done this in his mind over and over. Now, it was real, and his excitement threatened to relieve him too soon. That would not do. Calling the consorts’ attack to mind sufficed to stall his anxious cock, and he began blazing a fiery trail down the length of her body, from her swollen breasts to the shadowy hollow of her navel to the pubic curls between her thighs.
    Parting her nether lips, he exposed her erect nub and sucked it until she cried out, holding his head against her parts, and leaned into his motion as she undulated against the rhythm of his lips and tongue. Simeon raised her hips higher and entered her with his tongue, stabbing in and out as if it were a cock, moving from the hard, moist bud he’d brought erect to the soft throbbing flesh deep inside her, laving her vulva, lapping at the luscious juice of her release, drinking his fill of her honey sweetness with each climactic shudder.
    It was beyond his wildest imaginings. She was his. He had drunk her essence, savored the