Selkie's Revenge Page 6

  She stared at him in wonderment, her lips slightly open. The bottom lip was plump and pink from where she’d been gnawing on it, and looked perfect for sucking. Oh, hell.

  “I’d appreciate that, Mack.” She grinned and sighed, settling into the couch, but didn’t close her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

  Mack covered her in his seal pelt and was still amazed at how free he was being with it. He should have thrown it into the Mustang and driven away. It was what any smart selkie would have done. Instead, he smoothed it over her shoulders, feeling her thin frame under his hands. She made a soft noise of what sounded like contentment and snuggled in. Before long, her eyes closed.

  As something resembling sharp desire pierced through him, Mack started to move away. She laid a hand on his arm and stopped him. She opened her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I kicked you out of my hospital room,” she whispered. “Will you sit with me for a little while, until I fall asleep?”

  Mack watched her light eyelashes flutter. His heart did a funny leaping thing at the same time his crotch inflated. For a moment, he wondered if he’d put on a smaller man’s trousers that morning, but realized he just had the Washington Monument in his pants. He sat with her and placed his hands in his lap and offered her a crooked smile. “Aye, Beth. I’m not going anywhere.”

  * * * *

  A heartrending cry in the night disturbed the vigil Mack was keeping at Beth’s back door. He’d been keeping an eye out for finmen, but Beth’s loud moans made him race to her. He rushed up to her bedroom, poked his head into her room, and then breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t in pain or in harm’s way, but she did appear to be having a nightmare. Her thrashing and incoherent whimpers made it clear.

  Mack wondered if he should wake her, but waited in case the nightmare slipped away. He didn’t want her to miss out on any precious sleep.

  He watched, taken by the strangely graceful movements of her flailing arms and legs, and his cock responded. Again. He shouldn’t be aroused by the sight of her but was. Her groans changed, softened by a new sexual undertone, and the urgent sound kick-started a chain reaction of lust in his core. She mumbled something, and her legs jumped apart. Within seconds, all the sheets were off her, as well as his selkie pelt. Beth kicked again, exposing her undulating bottom half to him. By all that was holy, somehow in her fitful sleep she’d managed to wriggle out of her jeans and panties. She was completely bare from the waist down.

  Mack looked away, horrified to see her so intimately while she was asleep, but also so enticed he had to look back. She spread her legs and let out an unintelligible moan, one laced with stark hunger. And before he could walk away, her hand moved between her legs and she touched herself there.

  “St. Godwin’s nut sac,” he whispered, frozen to his spot. His heart thumped, as crazed as a John Bonham drum solo.

  Beth’s dainty fingers danced over her pussy, skimming folds that looked as tasty as they were captivating. Her body arched and jerked as her fingers explored and her cries grew more desperate. Her face fell as a frown marred her brow. She bit at her lips as her finger slipped between her nether lips, forcing their way into her body over and over.

  “Oh,” she said, moaning, still completely lost to sleep. “It hurts.”

  Her fingers pumped so hard Mack grew worried she’d cause an injury. Clearly she was unable to reach satisfaction. And as much as he really wanted to give her the relief she needed, Mack knew how wrong it was and turned away.

  “Mack,” she uttered. “Please.”

  Upon hearing his name, Mack shut his eyes and swallowed, unable to move away. She was dreaming of him. Would she wrestle with herself all night? Would the nightmare taunt her for hours because she couldn’t make herself come? For some reason, Mack couldn’t leave her. It seemed worse to leave her than it did to help her.

  He stalked to the bed and stood by her head. With his selkie eyes, he could see well in the dark and noticed the skin on her mound was pink. She was touching herself too hard and would hurt herself if this continued. Perhaps he could dissuade her.

  With a gentle touch, he tried to move her hand away from her seam. It was a pretty pussy, decorated with fair hairs. The sex of a woman who hadn’t felt the need to shave down there in a long time. Still, the hair did nothing to detract from its beauty. As he stared, he fought the urge to breathe in the scent of her arousal. It was no use. The perfume had already flooded each of his senses, and his body was charged. Could already drink in her flavor as it creamed over his taste buds.

  He wanted her.

  It was no reason to take her, and not like this.

  Still, as soon as he moved her hand away, she replaced it with a shattered groan. Mack pulled up a chair and sat at her side as his lust raged, demanding a release. However, his regard for her took precedence. There must be a way to help her and soothe her while not touching her.

  A thought occurred to him. Mack began to sing softly. Not only could the song of a selkie lull one to sleep and entrance, it could also seduce. Mack remembered the words of a suggestive selkie ballad and let them trip quietly off his lips. He hadn’t sung this song in eons but remembered each word. It told the tale of a selkie woman, one whose pelt had been captured by a young sailor. In the story, the love-struck mariner brought his selkie prize home, and she made a man of him, teaching him the ways of love. Mack leaned in, singing softly to Beth, and willed her to orgasm.

  As the ancient words floated around the two of them, Beth’s movements grew less jerky and more feathery. Mack continued his song, watching her slide her fingers over her clit in circular motions, and memorized the touches that made her tremble. As much as he wished it was his tongue making her quiver, he felt satisfaction as her pleasure seemed to intensify. And as she finally unraveled on a long sigh, her fingers drenched in the most fragrant dew he’d ever inhaled, Mack cracked out the final notes of his song. He could sing no more; his throat was dry.

  He licked his lips, tasting her, even though he’d never touched her. She was extraordinary. He swallowed. So delicious.

  “Mack,” she whispered again, her eyes fluttering but never opening. Her hand moved and came to rest on her belly. With a little smile, she turned her head toward her pillow.

  Affected in a way he’d never anticipated, trembling himself now, Mack quietly moved the chair back to its place. Before covering Beth with the blankets and his pelt, Mack eased her panties and jeans back up her legs, knowing she would be out for a while. As he buttoned up the jeans, it occurred to him that there was something wrong in dressing Beth. As if his hands had been made to undress her. Without considering the strange matter further, he escaped to the door, looking back once at her slumbering form, and then headed downstairs.

  It was going to be a long night.

  * * * *

  From his hidden home, so dark and dreary without a feminine companion, the finman concentrated on Beth Pedersen. His powers allowed him to glimpse his bride, allowed him to hone in on her no matter where she was.

  He could see her, plain as day, writhing on her bed. Although he could not grin, as finmen’s faces were not built for expressions of happiness, he was grinning in his mind. To see her half-naked, pleasuring herself, made him ache to plunge his length into her. And he had to do it soon if he wanted to continue his family line.

  She cried out, and the name she uttered pierced through his brain.

  “Mack.”

  The finman opened up his field of vision so as to include everything in the room with Beth. The damned selkie was there, watching her too.

  How he despised the lascivious beasts!

  Enraged, the finman threw his hands up to the surface and shot lightning up through the sea. Above him, water churned and boiled. Waves towered and exploded on the shore, growing in intensity and furor with each foaming crash. Woe to the mortal who walked the beach tonight. The waves would surely sweep him out to sea.

  By Neptune’s trident, that selkie had s
tood in his way once before. If it hadn’t been for him, the finman would have spawned years ago with beautiful Anne. And because of the manner in which the selkie Machar prowled the beaches, the finman hadn’t been successful in finding worthy mates. Oh, he’d stolen a few other bitches over the centuries and had fucked them until they’d given up the ghost. But none had produced a child for him.

  He had a good feeling about the Pedersen bitch. She had good hips for rearing fin babes. By the time he was done with her, she’d spawn dozens. And the gods curse any selkie who stood in his way.

  His temper appeased for now, the finman burrowed deeper into the dark tent that was his home. And waited.

  Chapter 6

  Beth awoke, her eyes popping open after what had to be the best sleep in her life. She stretched, not even needing to yawn, and realized immediately that she wasn’t on the couch. She was in her bed. Tucked in, still in her clothes, covered in the seal-pelt blanket. Her gaze darted toward her alarm clock. Ten o’clock.

  Wait. Hadn’t she laid down around ten o’clock?

  She sat up. “Please don’t tell me I slept right through to the next day.” And with a near stranger in her house? What was she thinking? Where was Mack anyway?

  Mack.

  Her body was hit by a barrage of delectable sensation. She’d dreamed of him, of him singing to her. Or had she? He had been in her dream, that she knew, but the details were hazy. As she experienced a sweet heaviness between her legs, a pressure so sumptuous she could almost taste it, parts of the dream came back to her.

  “A sex dream?” She hadn’t had one of those in ages. Intrigued, she touched herself with a finger and started at the sensitivity of her swollen lips. “Oh my God, what did we do in that dream anyway?”

  Whatever it was, clearly it had been good, and she’d never felt so full and sated upon wakening.

  Feeling embarrassed but curious, she threw off the pelt, and a cold shiver flew down her back. She was tempted to wrap the pelt around her shoulders. She liked the feel of it. Cursing the morning-breath feeling in her mouth, she padded downstairs toward the living room. She could hear some shuffling down there, accompanied by the sound of Mack’s deep voice.

  Mack’s voice. Comforting and lulling her. Arousing her, as he had last night in her dream.

  “Get your shit together, Beth,” she urged herself in a whisper. “It was just a dream. Means nothing.”

  Steeling herself, she reached the main floor and poked her head into the living room. When she saw him, her eyes popped in amazement. He was on the phone with someone discussing one of the cherry sideboards in Frank’s collection.

  “Not a chance, Derek,” Mack said in a smooth tone. “I’ve told you. The sideboard is Chippendale and in impeccable condition. My seller can get a better price hawking it at a car-boot sale. Don’t insult me with that price. You’d need to up it by at least five hundred pounds.” He paused. “Did you bother to look at the picture I e-mailed you at all?”

  Right at that moment, he noticed Beth standing there. He reddened, as if embarrassed too. Then he smiled and gestured excitedly, silently beckoning to her as he listened to his contact on the phone. Beth moved over and stood by him. Her mind spun as she watched him.

  He put a hand over the receiver so Derek wouldn’t hear him and whispered to her. “Beth, love. I can get you two grand for the cherry sideboard. Interested?”

  She nodded, unable to make any words come out of her mouth.

  He resumed his conversation with Derek. “That’s more like it, friend. Two grand it is. My seller and I will have the sideboard to you within the week.” Once again, he paused, laughing at something Derek was saying. “A pleasure doing business with you too, Derek. You won’t be disappointed.” He ended the call, hung up Beth’s phone, and turned to her. “You slept a very long time.”

  “You put me in my bed,” she replied in a quiet voice.

  His gaze warmed over. “I hope you don’t mind, but at about the ten-hour mark, you looked like a stiff mummy curled up on the couch. I was worried we’d never straighten you out again.” He grinned, his gaze falling to her lips, and then he allowed a soft sigh to escape.

  “You stayed here all night?”

  Mack got red in the face. He didn’t seem the type to blush in front of a woman, but he was doing it for her now. “I didn’t feel right leaving with you sound asleep. I didn’t want you to get scared if you woke up alone. I took up your spot on the couch.” He brightened, standing up straight, and brought his hands together in a loud clap, as if needing to clear his thoughts. “You must be starving.”

  Beth had no appetite, not for food anyway. She couldn’t think of eating, knowing Machar Kirk, her sinful savior, had stayed the night and tucked her into bed and filled her dreams with raunchy images. She looked around the living room once again and noticed he’d affixed large white labels to many of the antique furniture pieces in the room. On the labels, he’d recorded information about each piece: dates, manufacturer names, cities of origin, and asking prices. And as Beth quickly reviewed a couple of them, she realized Mack was dead-on with his information, at least according to the limited details she knew. While she’d slept the day and night away, he’d quietly assessed each antique and had correctly cataloged them. To say nothing of reaching out to his contacts to make potential sales for her.

  She turned to him, wanting to cry but determined not to do so. She bit on her bottom lip, making it sting in an attempt to hold off the waterworks of gratitude. “Why are you helping me?”

  Mack shrugged in an attempt to appear casual and unstudied, but she saw the heat in his eyes. “You need help. I know people. Selling Frank’s antiques will be a big job. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

  “But,” she began, “don’t you have to be somewhere? At your own work? What do you do anyway?”

  He hesitated but then answered. “I’m … a consultant, among other things. I’ve been around antiques for a long time. I’m happy to help you. I’m between projects right now anyway.”

  She knew her confusion must be written all over her face. “Funny. Frank knew everyone in the antique business. I never heard your name before.”

  Mack’s blush disappeared, making him appear paler than before. “I keep a low profile.”

  “You’re not here to swindle a widow out of her savings, are you?”

  He laughed out loud. “I’ve no need for your savings, love. I’m doin’ just fine.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” The question flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Girlfriend? What are doing? That’s none of your business! Besides he wasn’t the sort of man to have a girlfriend. Machar Kirk might have a paramour or a mistress or a quick, hot fuck, but not a girlfriend.

  Mack stared at her and then turned his gaze to the floor. He seemed to be considering her question carefully. “Not really.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no right to ask.”

  “No, it’s fine,” he replied, his deep voice tickling her insides with its unique Orcadian timbre. “I have a lady friend, but we’re not really headed in the same direction right now. Literally.”

  His rolled r’s were killing her, they were so sweet on the ear. Like spoken honey.

  “Oh, I see.” For some reason, Beth felt a wave of relief wash over her at his admission he wasn’t really seeing anyone, but she squashed the sensation. She had no business being relieved about Mack’s lack of a serious girlfriend. No business at all. She stood in front of him, feeling heat in every extremity, unsure what to say next.

  Luckily, Mack broke the tension. “You need to eat, woman. Luckily for you, I’m already keeping breakfast warm. I hope you don’t mind that I raided your larder.” His lips curled on one side of his mouth, giving his face a decidedly playful cast.

  I would love you to raid my larder. Omigod, where did that come from?

  She followed him to the kitchen and watched him as he bent over to retrieve a couple of dishes in the oven. As he moved, Beth’s gaz
e landed on his ass. As much as she told herself to look away, she couldn’t. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a fine specimen of ass. It was rounded and strong, and she could discern his perfect glute muscles, even under his worn jeans. It was an ass her hands would love. Only as Mack stood up again to carry sweet-smelling plates of pancakes to the table did Beth finally tear her gaze off him.

  She sat down at the table with him and let him pile her plate high with more pancakes than she could ever eat in one sitting, than she could ever dream of eating. Amazed, she looked at him, only to find him frowning at her neckline. “What’s wrong?”

  He was staring at her silver necklace, the one Frank had given her. “That’s an interesting necklace, Beth. I didn’t notice it yesterday. May I see it for a moment?” She removed it and handed it to him. He handled it carefully, his discriminating gaze pinned to the charm. “Where did you get this?”

  She shrugged and poured some maple syrup on her pancakes. “Frank found it among his things right before he died. He gave it to me.”

  Mack eyed her. “Frank found it?”

  “Yeah,” she recalled. “He couldn’t remember where he’d gotten it, which was weird because he knew every antique in his collection. But I guess he lost track of this one.” She grinned. “It just sort of showed up one day. He used to joke about it being Atlantean because he didn’t recognize the workmanship. It’s pretty, even though it’s rustic. I love the figure of the man embracing the woman.”

  “It’s not Atlantean,” Mack said in a new, stern voice, fingering the charm. “But it is very old. And it’s not a human man holding the woman. It’s a finman.”

  For some reason, Beth felt a chill flutter down her spine, leaving her cold. She didn’t know why. “What’s a finman?”

  Mack didn’t answer. “After breakfast, I’d like to show this to my friend, Eddie Hastings. He has a shop and specializes in this sort of … thing.”