MakeMeWet (6 page)

An idea took root. The curse, as far as he understood it,
only kicked in if the intended had an orgasm through sex with the selkie.
Nothing kept her from taking pleasure in her own body. Doing so with him there,
encouraging, sharing in a hands-off way, could be enough to “unlock” her as
Mere had said. Letting go with him in a small way might banish her demons and
allow her to be comfortable with another. Man.

Trey?

He wasn’t going to think about whom. He could only get her
through this night. The rest was up to her.

Could he get through it? Could he watch her come and not
touch? Not take her beyond. An inner voice screamed at him to back away from
what he was about to suggest. He ignored it.

“I was just thinking,” he said, putting her hands back in
her lap. “Since we know you enjoy an occasional solo, why don’t we start with
that?” She opened her mouth to argue, but he put a finger to her lips. “Hear me
out, love. I will hold you. That way it’s not entirely solo or entirely at my
mercy.”

“Um-m-m. No.”

“You gave that a lot of thought.”

“No. Just no.” She said it with such fierceness that he
laughed.

“Don’t be shy, Maille mine. Everyone does it.”

“They don’t do it with someone watching. I can’t do that
with you looking at me. It’s like getting drunk with a whole bunch of sober
people looking on.” She shuddered.

“There’s just me here. If it makes you feel better, I’ll do
it too.”

She went still, and a new heat warmed his thigh, right where
that little pocket of pleasure was parked in his lap.

“Ah, what’s this? You like that idea.”

Her face glowed brighter than the fire. She shook her head
no, but the words of denial weren’t making it out of her mouth. She’d gone
still like that when she’d watched him touch himself in the shower.

“Oh yes.” He rocked back, tumbling them both into the pillows
and quilts, turning so they were on their sides facing each other. “You do.”

“I really should check on the filly.”

“She’s right there in the snug nest where her mother birthed
her. She’s good on her own for a few hours yet. I do know a fair bit about horses.
It’s best to keep contact to a minimum until you know for sure she’s
abandoned.”

He bumped his nose against Maille’s. “It’s time to stop
running, love.”

He made a show of it, enjoying the power of bringing down
Maille’s walls. They trembled when he pushed his robe aside, so she could watch
him cup his balls in one hand. Propped on one elbow, his back arched and torso
angled just so, the robe falling away, he was an invitation. Her eyes went
wider, took the journey from his hand to his cock. Her breath caught.

He watched her watch. Her tongue caught between her teeth.
He moved, his palm gliding up the length of his shaft. Slow motion. Her tongue
did a quick little glide between slightly parted lips.

He paused to kiss her, tasting longing and lust, an electric
tingle running over his tongue.

When he pulled back, she ran one trembling finger over his
lips. Staring, as if she were seeing them for the first time. Then her gaze
dropped, drawn back to the motion of his hand. She reached, and then stopped
just short of touching him, looking up at him.

He rolled to his back. Undid the belt of his robe with his
free hand. Sat up and shrugged out of the robe to give her a full view.

“Go ahead,” he said softly. “Touch me.”

She did. The tip of her finger caught a drop of pre-cum
leaking from his cock. Her eyes locked with his when she tasted. Pleasure
bulleted through him. He nearly bit off his tongue, fighting for control as
longing spiraled up from his belly and lodged in his heart.

These last minutes couldn’t be rushed. Ronin needed to slow
Maille down, make this a memory he could savor. Mere said she’d take the
memory, but Ronin didn’t believe she could. Her expression, the teasing gleam
in her eye as she licked her finger, nothing could take that moment from him. He
liked to think, that on some level, Maille could hold on to the magick of their
last minutes together.

Yes, she was enchanted and memory of him would be gone,
dissolve like a dream when the enchantment lifted. They were making more than
memories here. They were bound by more than magick. Across oceans, across time,
he believed part of him would always be a part of her. He wanted to make it
something strong and beautiful.

“Maille mine. Don’t be one way now. Will you leave me
getting love drunk alone?”

She shrugged out of her robe. But hesitated once she was
naked.

“Touch yourself for me, love. It makes me hot to watch, same
as it does you.”

With legs wide, her fingers slipped inside her pussy. His
balls tightened at the thought of her silky heat. Her eyes locked with his
again, a stare so heated he thought his bones were melting.

She knew what she was about too.

A sweet little moan made him wince. She drew her fingers out
slowly, so he could see the sticky threads of her desire.

A shy whisper, “You make me so wet, Ronin.”

He caught her hand, brought it to his lips. Sucked her
fragrant nectar.

It burned. It burned. So hot. Hot enough to melt an iron
will. Goddess knows his will was made of flimsier stuff.

He pressed her hand back between her legs.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her ear.

Her teeth had that bottom lip clamped tight. Her gaze went
back to his cock. He tightened his grip, pumping firm and fast.

She whimpered.

“That’s it, Maille, love. I’ve got you. Come for me.”

The liquid sounds of her fingers in her pussy. The scent of
her. He would lose his mind.

Nectar glistened on rosy petals. His tongue twitched, eager
to lap it up.

He couldn’t. If he didn’t send her over the edge first, make
her believe her fears were groundless, he would fail her. That her fears
weren’t groundless wasn’t something he could change. The danger was his worry,
not hers.

When she was within a breath of climax he reached out,
pulled her in close to his chest, the words wrenched from him, “Come for me
now, love. Come, my beautiful Maille.”

“Ronin-n-n-n.” His name broke from her in a long shudder and
ended on a hiss when she pressed her face into his shoulder.

“There’s my girl,” he said, stroking her hair with shaking
hands. “There’s my beautiful girl.”

“I want you,” she whimpered, both arms going around his
neck. “I want you inside me.”

He rolled her under him.

Pleasure arrowed through her when Ronin’s cock parted her
pussy lips. Maille was wetter than she’d ever been. It wasn’t the first time
they’d made love tonight. But she was so tight, tremors of the orgasm still
rippling through her, he had to ease his way inside.

He kissed her. Little kisses all over her face and shoulders
and breasts. “Maille mine, I want to give you time. Give you so much.” He
captured her face between his hands. Kissed her lips. “Time’s running out.”

Her body relaxed enough to let him the rest of the way in.

He groaned as he sank deeper. “So hot, baby. So fucking
hot.” He drew back and slammed in, sending a white-hot, hurt-so-good wave of
pleasure ripping through her.

She melted. Changed state from solid to liquid, wrapping
around Ronin like a wave around a rock.

More. She needed more. Needed to level up to steam.

Ronin held himself on his elbows, trembling above her.

“Ronin?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Strain roughened his voice.

“If that was hurting, hurt me more. Just like that.”

He did, over and over until she was howling louder than the
wolves. Then he stopped. Too soon.

“Ronin?”

He glanced out to the sea, as if he were expecting
something.

“Ronin, you can’t stop,” she pleaded. “Not this time.”

As he pulled back, his smile was part grimace. “As my lady
wishes, then. Hurry, sweet. Turn over for me. Hands and knees. Yes, just like
that.” He entered her from behind and his skillful fingers found her clit.

She was shaking so hard she couldn’t hold herself up on her
hands. Because she was liquid, flowing. Dripping between her legs. Rivulets
running down her thighs.

With her shoulders to the sandy blanket, she moaned. Ronin
gathered her, them like the moon pulling in the tide. With each thrust he
hammered at the shores of reality. Scattered facts like shells at her
perimeter.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the heat, the fire he
stirred with fingers and cock. Hellfire. Heavenly fire. It didn’t matter. Wet
as she was she could survive either. Use. Own it.

Pleasure boiled between her legs. In that tight, pulsing
button under his fingers. In the quivering tunnel that sheathed his cock. They
were so close.

He stopped again. Pressed his face into her hair.

She wriggled her hips restlessly.

“I know. I will. I just want you to know—” He shook his
head, buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“Come with me this time, love. Let’s do this together.”

She would. She had to. Good or bad, whatever happened next,
she wanted that moment when they dissolved together. Another thrust, another,
lick, flick. Then…

The horizon was going light as he fucked her, and it seemed
it went a lighter shade of gray with each thrust. Ronan drilled deep and held
tight. His cock jerked inside her. Her back arched.

She pushed up on her hands, head tipped back, body racked
with shudders. Even as they came together, Ronin went liquid. Their bodies
fused and a deeper instinct drove Maille to open her eyes.

She opened them into the black mirror of the sea. A silver
bolt hit them. Took them down like Taos lightning, cast them up in a glittering
shower.

The landscape shattered like a picture made of glass.

Ronin was shouting something she couldn’t make out. He
seemed so far away. Too far to hear. How could he shout without a mouth? How
could she hear without ears? They were nothing. Pleasure had vaporized them.

Maille woke to the tickle of heated breath against her ear,
a soft nip of teeth. When she reached to push the intrusion away, her hand
connected with the velvet-soft muzzle of a horse.

A tiny filly was curled next to her, tucked snug in a quilt.
Asleep. Breath ran hot along the back of her neck. She sat, her own head
colliding with a bigger head. Earning her a butt in the chest from a stallion.

He gave her another bump. An aura of urgency rippled through
the air.

Maille scrambled from her nest of quilts. A fire flickered
beside a tide pool. Her foggy brain shuffled the clues in her surroundings to
make meaning. Where was she? Why? How had she gotten here?

Sets of footprints, hers and some man-sized, led to a break
in the dunes and back. She tried to follow them, but the stallion cut her off,
nudged her back.

She knelt, pressed her palm into the imprint of the man’s
footprint. Who had been here? Something important was missing. Then she saw, a
patch near the fire, sand smoothed flat and a message scratched there.

I love you, Maille mine. Forever. Into eternity, I will
love only you.

Her throat tightened and tears burned at the backs of her
eyes. Grief gave the air a glassy shimmer. But she didn’t know who would leave
her a message. Who loved her?

Confused, she looked back to the stallion. He pawed the
ground. Male footprints led from their nest of blankets back to the ocean.

She hesitated, struggled to push the facts together into
some order that made sense from chaos. But her brain was cotton dry. A dry ache
between her legs suggested a night of hard use.

“I don’t understand.” The words came out in an old creaky
voice, parched, as if she had panted a long time.

She turned to follow the prints and stumbled. Her legs were
stiff, weighted, as if the sinews and ligaments had been left out to bake in
the sun, but the sun was only an orange slice on the horizon.

She crept forward, a painful hobble. What had she been up
to? Who had she been up to it with?

The stallion pranced ahead, lowered himself to the sand,
stretched his neck, caught a lock of Maille’s wind-tossed hair and tugged.
Grateful, she accepted the ride, clambering onto his back, clinging tight to
the mane as he bolted. Hooves pounded sand. Then surf.

He took her straight into the waves.

Then under them.

Once she was in the water with cold spray hitting her face,
life seemed to flow back to her, plumping cells, lubricating thoughts. In the
ocean she came alive. She was home. It didn’t matter that a deep-sea-diving
stallion made no sense. This was where she belonged when life stopped making
sense. She had a creeping feeling inching up her spine, a prickly warning that
she wouldn’t like what the facts revealed when she solved the puzzle.

When the stallion resurfaced, she spotted a small dark
object moving steadily toward the rocky island off shore. A head. A man
swimming?

She had to get there ahead of him. Certainty burned in the
pit of her stomach. She didn’t know why. But it felt crucial. Crucial in a
Shrödinger’s cat kind of way.

She leaned in, shouting to the stallion, “Faster.”

Reading his response as if she were one with him, she gulped
air as his muscles bunched to take them under again.

He gave her all she asked for. Fighting against the pounding
surf and battering wind. They were ahead when he resurfaced again. But not by
much. Almost to shore. The stallion’s strength seemed to be fading.

The stallion seemed to be fading. Going to mist under her.
And he was gone.

Choppy water slapped Maille’s face. Treading water, turning
in circles. The burning kicked up to all-consuming blaze. She couldn’t stop to
think. Answers. All the answers she needed were tied to something on that
island.

It defied all reason. It defied everything she’d grounded
her new life in, but there was a bridge on that island, hers for the taking if
she found it in time. A bridge between the desert life she’d been living and
the wild, wet vibrancy she required to survive.

She dove down. No sign of the horse. The yawning black of an
underwater cave drew her like a magnet. Dimly a memory of swimming here, with
seals, surfaced. At the other end, a cave opened into the bottom of a pool at
the center of a pile of rocks locals called Selkie Island because the seals
loved to sunbathe there.

She swam into the tunnel, feeling her way along the walls
when they closed around her. It was smaller than she remembered. She couldn’t
waste energy on worry. She had to push forward. Propelling herself with
mermaid-like thrusts of her legs, and her hands using the walls as leverage to
push her forward.

Maille felt every year she had been away from the water as
the tunnel seemed to grow longer ahead of her. Her endurance, the quick
confidence of a child who had spent more time in the ocean than out was gone.
She didn’t just doubt she could make it. She knew in her bones it was
impossible. Knew too she was too far in to turn back.

Pressure grew in her chest, beat in her ears. Darkness
wrapped around her and the thought she truly was dying now screeched at the
back of her brain. If death came, when it came, better here in the velvet arms
of the ocean than in the dry sands of New Mexico.

Then she saw a circle of light undulating above. All she had
to do was swim to the light.

* * * * *

He was a prisoner. The first watery prison had been
fabricated by the Goddess, penance for sins that deserved no forgiveness. This
new prison was built on the one sacrifice he’d ever made for a woman. This new
prison was worse. Freedom hadn’t mattered when he hadn’t loved anyone—not even
himself—enough to long for something more.

Mere must be laughing herself silly. He’d missed his freedom
by
mere
seconds.

Stranded on the sea with nowhere to go but endless nowhere
once he’d collected his pelt. Even the knowledge that seven years from now he’d
have a new call and a new lover to ease his suffering didn’t make the
nothingness bearable. For the first time since he had discovered the wonder of
a woman he didn’t want another.

He held on to the one lifeline that loving Maille had thrown
him. She’d been lost in a similar hell. He’d freed her. She wouldn’t remember
him, but she wouldn’t be alone either. She was for Trey now. As much as it
burned, Ronin knew Trey would treasure her. Hell, it didn’t take much to be a
better man than he.

A wave tossed him high and slammed him onto an outcropping
covered in enough sand to prevent cracked ribs, but not to prevent the wind
from being knocked out of him. Or the orb of the rising sun from disintegrating
briefly into a whirl of sparks.

He curled onto his side, welcoming pain. Any sensation
trumped the numbness threatening to snuff out the flicker of soul Maille had
managed to light in him.

He crawled to the cairn he’d used to mark where he’d stuffed
his pelt, reached into a slimy pile of kelp. Nothing.

Startled, he sat back, surveyed the ledge. Yes, this was
it—the only ledge on the east side big and low enough for him to crawl upon.
That was his cairn, seven rocks high. He dug through the kelp again with both
hands.

No pelt.

* * * * *

She’d done it. Staring up into that golden pool of light,
dawn shimmering on the surface of the pool, something had snapped, propelled
her to the surface with the power of rocket thrusters. Giddy from lack of air
she’d staggered to the cairn perched on a ledge not far from the pool. Knowing
treasure lay there. None of the trials and frustrations could penetrate the
happy bubble of promise that had formed in her belly the moment she’d plucked
that raunchy seal pelt from beneath the rocks.

Joy. Pure, simple, ridiculous joy powered her swim back from
the island. It sustained her when she trudged wet and weary up the steps to the
cottage.

In her kitchen she found a blond god of a man in a tight
tank top and tighter jeans. That didn’t faze her either. Oh sure, it gave her
pause, had her jaw dropping, but it didn’t send her off screaming down the
beach.

“Hello,” he said cheerfully. He glanced briefly at her and
turned back to the stove, stirring frothy liquid in a pot.

“What are you doing here?” Maille asked.

“Making formula for the foal I found out on the beach.”

“Ah.” Just at his elbow, a clean bottle and nipple were at
the ready. “You normally just walk in someone’s house and make yourself at
home?”

“Only when I’m renting said house. You must be Maille.” He
turned off the burner and put down the spoon. He offered her a towel from a
rumpled pile on the table.

She realized she was naked, the seal skin she was clutching
to her chest scant covering. She couldn’t bring herself to let it go.

She went on the offensive. “You’re not renting anymore,
Mr.…” Fuck. What was his name?

“Jones,” he said, filling in the blank. “Trey Jones.” He put
down the towel and offered a hand.

She gave his hand a quick shake and hugged the seal pelt to
her again.

“You had notice. I’m selling the place.”

“Yes, I got notice. I suppose the real estate agent hasn’t
told you I’m the buyer?”

No. Well maybe she had. None of the details had seemed
important until now.

“I’ve decided not to sell. I guess you can sue me or
something.”

She turned slowly. He’d been living here and it still looked
like her home, just the way she’d left it. Family pictures still on the mantel.

His silence had her glancing back to catch him staring at
her backside. Flustered, she whirled back around. “Sorry, it’s just—”

He started to say something, swallowed, then tried again.
“Don’t apologize. I won’t take your home from you. I’ve been looking after it
for you, if you want to know the truth.”

Maille backed up a step.

“If you want truth, Maille, if you need answers, you will
always get them from me. As much as I know, anyway. For instance. I know what
it is you have there. I’m not going to take it from you.”

She believed him.

“And I can see you’re falling-down tired. Right?”

She lifted one shoulder.

“I’m a friend and I know it’ll take time for you to trust
that. Take a shower and then take a nap. I have my things upstairs. That was
your old room?”

She nodded.

“I’ll clear out just as soon as I’ve looked after the filly.
I made enough formula to hold you until tomorrow. I fixed her a spot on the
back porch until we can put together something more permanent.”

We? Permanent? Goddess, there was so much to think about and
put straight. Her job and apartment in New Mexico for starters. And what to do
with Trey.

Her arms tightened around the pelt. She felt safe hugging
it. It had a scent so familiar, so perfect. She pressed her nose to it.

Trey inched closer. “You’ll want to put that somewhere safe,
sweetheart, someplace no one will stumble across it. You know that, don’t you?”

She nodded and looked up at him, taking in those impossibly
blue eyes. She knew those eyes.

He reached and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“There’s a brave girl.”

“Do you know how I got here?” Maille asked. “Can you answer
that? I know I came to sell the cottage, but what happened yesterday is all a
blur.”

He crossed his arms, cocked a hip against the counter. “It’s
a long story. The short of it is that you stumbled upon Shadowling Manor. It’s
a mystical place, impossible to find unless the caretakers want you to find it.
It sits over some sort of energy source that can bend and alter time and
reality.”

“So the bits and pieces of what I remember were generated by
some kind of quantum mechanical dream machine.”

He laughed. “I guess that’s one way to put it. But the
product of a night under Shadowling’s spell is always very real. I think if
you’re patient it will all be clear by the end of the day.”

“Goddess, there’s more?” She swayed, grabbing for the counter
with one hand. Rather than reach to steady her, Trey stepped back. Looked over
her shoulder. Looked out the window. Looked at his feet. Everywhere but at her.
He kept his eyes averted when he said, “Go have your shower, Maille. I’ll see
to things here and be off.”

“Where will you go?”

“I’ll get a room in Wolf Harbor.”

“I didn’t mean to put you out of your home.”

“It’s your house. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

* * * * *

Maille peered out over the water. Wondered what had happened
to the swimmer she’d seen earlier. There had been strange flashes of light over
Selkie Island during the day. Like silver sheet lightning. Weird.

She scrubbed her face with her hands. Wolf Harbor was more
than weird. More than the fantasies of an old woman. What did you make of
horses that disappeared from under you or messages from mystery lovers in the
sand? What to make of blue-eyed blond men who turn up right after a blue-eyed
palomino stallion vanished? What to make of the burning need to swim home with
a seal pelt and the drive to put it somewhere safe?

No one would find it. She’d made sure of that.

When she came back from her shower it was to find Trey had
left her a hot breakfast and dry clothes. The t-shirt and sweatpants looked as
if they would fit him. They hung on her, but she was grateful.

Trey had promised answers. When she came down from her nap,
it was to discover he’d left Gram’s bestiary open on the coffee table.

Kelpies and selkies was the explanation on the open page.
The kelpie, a magickal water horse. Like the one who had disappeared under her?

According to legend, if you steal a selkie’s pelt, you own
the selkie. The selkie that belonged to her pelt didn’t seem to be around.

All reasons why she should look for practical, verifiable
answers.