Selkie Island

by Jorrie Spencer

  He was eyeing her in that way of his. When he’d been younger and healthier, he would have shown less caution. But there was something special about this more careful dance. Even if it made her nervous. She arranged what was left of the firewood.

  “Come here, Morag,” he said softly. He sat cross-legged on their shared bedding. She’d always loved his voice. A slightly different accent that he described as typical Torontonian and a deep, rich voice.

  She stopped what she was doing, turning to look at him, and he smiled reassurance. Placing her hands on her knees, she rose and walked over.

  He raised a hand, palm out, and she placed her palm against his. They’d done this before. Hers was smaller all around. He threaded his fingers through hers and gave a small tug.

  As she sat she said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Looking away briefly, he laughed. “I can claim with some confidence that at this point, nothing you say will surprise me.”

  “Maybe this isn’t so surprising.” She cradled his hand in two of hers, liking the contrast in skin, hers too pale from being seal all the time, his warm and dark.

  With his other hand, he smoothed her hair off her face, an encouragement.

  She stared down. “I missed you after you left.”

  “Oh, Morag. I had no idea how lonely you were.”

  “You couldn’t.” She bit her lip. “I knew you weren’t from here and wouldn’t come back, but sometimes I hoped.”

  Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek. Soon he would want to kiss her mouth, but she needed to confess first.

  “After a time, I still missed you and I missed…being with you.”

  He ducked his head so he could catch her eye. “Sex, you mean.”

  Even the touching, the affection that had come with sex with Clay, but she just nodded. “So one day these two guys came to the island. I never found out why they landed here. It didn’t matter. I was curious, they weren’t fishermen and they weren’t a relation, so I decided to be, uh, friendly.” She swallowed. “I made a mistake.”

  Clay had gone rigid beside her, guessing where her confession was going.

  “I got away, Clay,” she said quickly, to reassure him, to let him know she hadn’t been harmed.

  He turned her around and wrapped her in his arms, placing light kisses on her cheek, neck, shoulder. “I’m glad. And I’m glad you told me.”

  He hugged her tighter and she melted into him. She felt him hard against her bottom and it made her smile. That was good. She’d been worried that the two men would have scared her enough to make her unnerved by Clay. “But, Morag, I’d like to know why you needed to tell me. Because it was something you wanted to share with me?”

  “I meant to be faithful to you.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Jesus. Honey…it’s been years. I, well…”

  So he hadn’t been faithful to her, but she didn’t care. He’d come back for her, that’s what she’d craved. “It hasn’t been years for me. More like days.”

  “I don’t understand. Doesn’t time pass for you when you’re a seal?”

  “Yes. It’s different though.”

  He nuzzled her throat and she shivered in pleasure. “Since we’re in confession mode. I’ve had two girlfriends since I was twenty-one.”

  She couldn’t ignore the way her stomach sank but held on to the hope that he’d said had, past tense. “And now?”

  “No. I haven’t been in a relationship for a while. My job, well, it’s too stressful.” She laid her head back against his shoulder and he said, “Finish telling your story. About the two men.”

  She closed her eyes, because it was easier in the telling. “I was careful, even if I wanted to meet them. I stayed near the water. They’d been drinking like my father used to do occasionally.”

  “Did they touch you at all?”

  They’d grinned when they’d seen her, and not in a friendly way. That’s when she should have fled, but she’d been unwilling to lose the chance at greeting someone after several years of not talking. It hadn’t taken long for them to manhandle her.

  “One lay on top of me. That’s when I knew I didn’t want this, not that he’d asked. I pretended to cooperate.” Their drunkenness had made them stupid and easy to manipulate when they thought they were getting what they wanted from her body. “I slid into the water, shifted. They got scared then, that I’d drowned or something. Left the island in a hurry. Never came back.”

  “Not your fault,” Clay murmured in her ear.

  “I was unwise. I didn’t think they’d be you, but I was…” …looking for a friend.

  “Lonely,” he finished for her.

  She shrugged in his arms. Then she turned in his embrace, wrapped her arms around his neck and spoke into his throat. “I’m not lonely now.”

  “Strangely enough, neither am I.”

  He cradled her face in his warm hands, kissed her eyelids, her nose, and she lost all patience and surged up against him to kiss him full on the mouth. Like he’d been waiting, he received her, pulling her closer, taking control of the kiss, welcoming her. There was a patience there in his touch that she didn’t remember and it made her feel treasured. It also made her feel crazy with need. Suddenly it was too much and she broke off the kiss, grabbed at her pants to pull them down.

  “I want you inside me.” She wanted everything he’d ever given her before and she wanted it immediately. Her heart was about to beat out of her chest and she needed him now after being deprived for so long.

  He helped her with her pants, more slowly than she liked, then allowed her to help with his. They kept their shirts on because it was cold and besides, she just wanted him there.

  He slid his hands down her thighs. “I’m not going anywhere, Morag. No need to rush.”

  Didn’t matter that he wasn’t going anywhere. There was need riding her. She rose on her knees, found him with her center and sank down on to him. As he entered, she felt like he opened her up, opened up everything, and her chest flushed with something old and new and powerful. She bowed her head and he curved his hand around the back of her head to steady her.

  She expected him to move but realized with his wound he might not be able to so she began to rise. His arm came around her ribs, immobilizing her against him.

  Lifting her head, she asked, “What?” Not the most coherent question and he answered by nibbling at the side of her neck. Goose bumps ran over her skin.

  “Clay.” The demand in her voice, it didn’t seem to belong to her but she needed him to move now, otherwise she might scream, or burst into tears. A tremor ran through her.

  “Okay,” he said, whether in agreement or reassurance, she didn’t know, but he rose on his knees, lifting her and laying her on her back. “Look at me.” His demand now and she answered it by staring into his dark, almost-midnight gaze. His face was mostly in shadow but his eyes shone. “Won’t be long,” he warned, but she didn’t want it to be long, just now, and he moved.

  She moved with him and the years fell away, they were back to when they knew just how to please each other’s bodies, the rhythm their own and exactly what they needed as they rose and fell together. The tempo increased as something within her built, a pressure, a wave of intensity that crashed through her and she did scream. Upon her shore he fell, coming inside her, her longing sated by him, by Clay.

  She clung and he didn’t let go.

  He was careful not to let all his weight rest on her, though it took more effort than normal. But he didn’t want to move, to let go. Making love with Morag had been a homecoming of sorts when he hadn’t known he’d needed to come home to her. Not until she’d found him again.

  “You’re mine,” she whispered and he smiled into her hair. “For a little while,” she amended.

  “Longer than a little while.” Sleep was claiming him and his words were in danger of being slurred. “Let’s make this last longer than our first summer together, okay?” He slid to the side, maintaining full
-body contact without smothering her with his weight.

  “Don’t go,” she said and he didn’t know if she meant he shouldn’t slide out of her or if he shouldn’t leave the island in the future.

  “I don’t want to go,” he managed before sleep took him.

  He woke hours later. The darkness was just beginning to lighten to gray so sunrise was approaching but still a ways off. Morag lay in his arms. A relief because he’d dreamed that she’d swum away, turning to light as he held her, the ocean rising to claim her. But here, now, her back was pressed to his chest, and he was hard against her beautiful ass. He palmed one cheek.

  She pressed against him, arching her back, and he entered her from behind.

  “God,” he muttered as she moaned, a low note deep in her chest. He didn’t move but bit down on the tendon running from her shoulder to her neck, tasting the salt, her own or perhaps the salt water’s. It didn’t matter, it still belonged to her.

  “Move,” she demanded. Instead he lapped at her neck.

  “Morag.” He just wanted to say her name.

  “What?” Frustration filled her voice. He remembered this, how they’d been crazy for each other, going at it like rabbits multiple times a day and it had been glorious. He’d cared about his lovers since then, but it had been nothing like what he’d had with Morag.

  He placed a palm over one breast, caught the nipple between thumb and finger.

  “Clay.”

  “Um-hmm?”

  “Please.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She tried to roll onto her stomach and he clamped her to him, ignoring her cry of frustration. He understood that she wanted him to drive into her from behind, and God knew he wanted it too. Just not yet. Over the years he’d learned to appreciate a certain drawing out of the event and even if this was more making love than the sex he’d become used to, he still wanted to try for slow with Morag. Slow and rewarding.

  He slid his arm down and found her clit, hard and engorged. Tracing a finger over it, he felt her crash into her orgasm as she let out a scream. He didn’t relent, working the nub as she flew and came down to earth. She panted in his arms, trying to catch her breath, a sweat breaking out over her body.

  “Clay, please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Too much.”

  “Come again.”

  “I can’t,” she gritted out even as her body seized and she broke against him a second time. He was growing harder and harder inside her, likely to come by just feeling her around him, squeezing him.

  So he pressed her down on the bedding, lifting her ass as he rolled, staying inside her. She was wet and welcoming and tight. Friction and feeling and deep, beautiful warmth. He drove into her and she screamed, “Yes, Clay.” His cock grew impossibly hard, his balls tightened and he wanted to stay there, just at that moment before he went over the edge, when the feeling was almost transcendent.

  She came again, squeezing him, and over that cliff he fell as his body seized and he filled her with his seed.

  They both collapsed, less than gracefully. She seemed to have even less energy than him. But she turned to him and smiled, her face lighting with pleasure, and he thought of the sun rising. His heart squeezed.

  She hit him in the chest, against his full heart, with her small fist. “What did you do to me? I couldn’t breathe.”

  “Are you lodging a complaint?”

  “No. Just…” She shook her head. “I never felt like that before.”

  “Well.” He had to tread a little carefully here, as he wasn’t interested in talking about his experience as such, not right now. “Thing is, there can be some advantages to drawing sex out instead of cutting to the chase right away.” Okay, that didn’t sound terribly sophisticated, but he more often did sex than talked sex.

  “We never…” She buried into him, perhaps no better at talking sex than he was.

  “No. And it was great.” He stroked her hair. “But so was this.”

  “So was this,” she agreed. “I feel like I have no bones.”

  He cupped her elbow, touched her collarbone. “Don’t worry. They’re there.”

  In turn, she traced his ribs, silently telling him he had bones too. “Can we sleep some more?”

  He kissed her hair and tucked her against him. He faced huge problems in the future, he hadn’t forgotten them, but for now his happiness overwhelmed him and he let sleep take him.

  Chapter Seven

  He woke in bright daylight and Morag was gone. It felt like his body had betrayed him, to allow him to sleep through her rising and leaving him. But he couldn’t ignore that he was still recovering from that bullet wound and the fever. Carrying that boat across the island yesterday had worn him out. As had Morag.

  He was starving. Hungry enough to appreciate a protein bar and he ripped into one, chewing it down. Well, a healthy appetite was a good sign, right? He’d never been the pickiest eater, which was a lucky thing since he’d be choosing between these bars, until they ran out, and fish.

  At what point did he have to worry about scurvy? Given that he wasn’t in great shape, he had to be careful. Perhaps space out these bars which were well fortified in all the vitamins.

  When he’d been twenty-one and vacationing here, he’d made trips to the shore, picking up supplies, but that was no longer an option. Obviously. He scrubbed his face, wondering about his future. During the days of panic, he’d settled on this goal of reaching Selkie Island, and he hadn’t seen much beyond that. Now he had to think things through, and that included taking Morag into account. He couldn’t expose her to danger, but he also didn’t want to leave her.

  It wasn’t good for her to be alone so much. She sounded forlorn about her life at times. And the way she’d held his gun—he hadn’t liked it. Not that it seemed possible to think of her as suicidal at the moment. She was full of energy, and so capable to boot.

  But he didn’t know what it was like to live over a hundred years and long outlive your generation.

  He rose in search of Morag. Stepping into sunlight, he lifted his face towards the sun, absorbing its heat. Then he glanced around to see she’d hauled the fish she was salting and drying back out into the sun. He felt a pang of loss as he realized she wasn’t there.

  Perhaps she was in the water again. Did she need to go there every day? During their summer together they’d spent days in each other’s company. He would definitely have noticed if she’d decided to turn into a seal, so she hadn’t needed to be seal all the time then. Admittedly, she’d refused to ever go to the mainland with him. She’d probably spent time as a seal during his sorties.

  Shaking his head, impatient with himself and his musings, he wandered down to the shore. She liked to shift on the larger rocks, she said, so it was there that he’d wait for her, and do some sunbathing in the meantime. There was no sense in getting too far ahead of himself. This was the strangest situation he’d ever been in and he simply had to take it one day at a time.

  Absorbing the heat from the sun and from the rock he lay on, he dozed and woke stiff. The sun had moved in the sky, and he became worried that something was wrong, or that she wasn’t coming back, though his worries had little foundation. For God’s sake she’d lived a hundred years, she knew more about staying alive than he did. She’d kept him alive this past week.

  He stood, shaking out his limbs. The bedding she’d arranged for him on the shack’s floor was not the most comfortable place he’d slept in his life, but it beat this rock. He clambered back up the cliff and walked to the shack.

  It was an hour later when Morag returned, strolling across the small clearing of the island, buck naked. Clay’s worry and irritation evaporated at the sight of her and he stood there, beside the fish drying in the sun, and waited until she reached him.

  “Where’ve you been?” He glanced at her empty hands. “No fish?”

  She shook her head, a little guiltily, he thought. Though he was beginning to have trouble foc
using on the mystery of where she’d been all day. She was gorgeous, red hair shining, skin still damp. He couldn’t help it, he just grinned at her.

  After tilting her head at his expression, her eyes warmed. “What?”

  “You.” Pulling her to him, he kissed her deeply, twining her tongue with his, learning everything there was to know about her generous kisses. He was rewarded by Morag pressing her body full against him, breasts, belly, thighs, and winding her arms around his neck. When she came up for air, she tugged down his sweats and climbed up him.

  “You,” he said, again staring into her dark eyes, watching them widen as he entered her, seated himself fully inside her. They both shuddered a little. He’d never felt such a connection to anyone and he didn’t quite understand why the connection was so strong. It just was and he didn’t intend to let go of something this special again.

  “Clay,” she said softly and she began to move. It took them a few tries to find the right movement, and he recalled that despite her enthusiasm and her responsiveness, she was actually pretty new to lovemaking.

  Part of him wanted to carry her into the shack, but another part wanted her here and now, and evidently so did she. She flung her head back, trusting him to hold her as she came. In no time, he followed her, release weakening his knees, and the pleasure threatened to overpower him. As she pressed kisses against his neck and chin, he came back to himself and kept standing, kept holding her.

  “Almost dropped you,” he muttered into her hair, and she clung and laughed. She loved to hold on to him afterwards, he remembered, as if he might disappear, and he guessed he had.

  “We’ll take our time, next round,” he added as she slid down his body but still leaned against him. It had felt more like a snack than a real meal, even if their bodies still reveled in the echo of lovemaking and connection.

  She gazed up at him, her eyes bright, alive, and he smoothed damp hair from her face, marveling that she had been alive for so long, as if she’d been waiting all these years just for him.

  “I like it fast,” she admitted.