Ocean's Touch

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Ocean's Touch Page 10

by Denise Townsend


  Alex, meanwhile, felt his knees nearly buckle as a similarly rich liquor of emotion swept through him. He suddenly felt wanted, respected, and understood in a way he’d never felt before. Alex reached a hand out to the wall to steady himself as his eyes locked on the woman’s in front of him. He knew that somehow the emotions he felt were hers. And some unacknowledged part of his soul thrilled to feel her affection.

  As Meredith lay there, staring into the eyes of the man who wanted her so very badly, and whose feelings she reciprocated so heartily, Dylan again lowered his head to her waiting sex.

  Alex watched as Meredith’s eyes grew even larger, and a soft moan escaped her lips. Only after a moment did Alex tear his eyes away from her pleasure-suffused face to see that the dark stranger was busy again between Meredith’s legs. The red-haired man again felt a quick flush of jealousy, but it was quickly subsumed by another feeling. Oddly, the feeling didn’t feel like his, not any more than what he’d felt before had felt like his own emotion. Alex didn’t understand what was going on, but he could feel the other man wanted Alex to stay, to bear witness to Meredith’s pleasure. It wasn’t an act of possession, Alex felt, but of generosity, of sharing.

  Steeling himself, and hoping Meredith wouldn’t hate him for it, Alex took another step into the room.

  The tiny, rock-walled nook magnified every sound—Meredith’s gentle mewls and gasps, the hungry lapping of the man between her legs, the wet thrust of his fingers deep in her cunt, and Alex’s own harsh breathing. Alex found himself growing impossibly hard in his tux trousers, gasping himself as Meredith cried out again, her back bowing with her pleasure. Her eyes shut, then opened to find his again, then drifted down his body till he knew she was gazing at the hard outline of his cloth-covered erection.

  Her eyes told him what she wanted, so Alex moved his hand around to stroke himself through the taut material covering his cock.

  Meredith moaned again softly, and then again less softly, as Alex allowed his hand another long, deliberate stroke over his turgid flesh.

  Her eyes were riveted on Alex, although the hand that had been muffling her cries was now laced through the wiry hair of the man kneeling between her thighs.

  Meredith’s wetness washed over Dylan’s fingers, and he felt her desire—a raw, heady combination of lust for him and for Alex—flooding over him with equal force. He purred against her clit, carefully crooking his fingers to seek out the sensitive place deep inside her. When a fresh wash of wetness poured forth and he heard Meredith cry out, he knew he’d found the right place.

  Alex groaned low in his throat as Meredith’s back bowed again, her eyes closing as her tight nipples strained against the material of her dress. The cries that echoed in the stone room took his breath away, and he could no more have stopped himself from unzipping his pants than he could have stopped himself from wanting her. Meredith’s eyes opened again, immediately latching onto the sight of Alex pulling out his hard cock. This time when she groaned, Alex knew it was for him and had nothing to do with the man between her thighs.

  Watching her watch him, Alex fisted his cock, letting out his own rough growl of pleasure as he shafted his hard length. He nearly came like a teenager when the tip of Meredith’s tongue peeked out, wetting her lips as if she were imagining tasting him. Alex’s own spread hand found the wall as he breathed deeply, finding his control as he watched Meredith tremble in desire.

  Meanwhile, Meredith had never seen anything sexier. The sight of Alex—a man she already associated with pleasure—masturbating in front of her was almost too much. He had a beautiful cock—thick and long, with a lovely fat head she couldn’t help but want to taste. A single drop of fluid glimmered on its tip in the candlelight, and she felt the steady build of her orgasm ratchet up a few notches at the sight.

  She wanted to suck him, to watch his face when he came, and to know she’d given him that pleasure.

  Dylan could feel Meredith’s cunt clenching around his fingers, her sex urging him to add a third, stretching her deliciously. She moaned and rewarded him with another flood of wetness, but her eyes were all Alex’s. Her face was flushed, her pupils huge with desire, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from Ladislaw standing in front of her with his cock in his hand. For a second, the selkie considered inviting Alex closer, but he could sense that would be too much. Meredith was enjoying herself, and she wanted this, but he knew that he mustn’t push her too far. She’d already demonstrated a massive amount of bravery and openness.

  Meredith’s hand on the wall clutched convulsively as she felt the first waves of her orgasm start up her spine. Her eyes widened, but they never left Alex’s cock.

  He’d barely been stroking himself, afraid he’d lose control and come too quickly. But when he saw how close to the verge was Meredith, Alex allowed his hand to beat in rhythm to the wet sounds emanating from Dylan’s fingers thrusting hard and fast into Meredith’s sex.

  Knowing she was close, the selkie’s lips sucked in her clit, causing her to gasp, as another flood of pleasure swept up from her belly to the top of her head. But Dylan’s talented mouth kept her right there—straddling that sweet peak but not letting her fall. Her whole body hummed with sexual energy, craving its orgasm as her sex pulsed around him.

  “Please,” she cried hoarsely. It was unclear to whom she spoke—the man between her legs or the man masturbating before her.

  “Please, what?” Alex growled, loving the sight of her so lost and needy, feeling as if he controlled her pleasure rather than the man who actually touched her.

  “Please,” Meredith repeated, “Please…come…” With those words her body bowed again, as if her body were literally fighting to orgasm. Alex nearly came himself at her begging. But he fought for control, wanting to play out this scene to its conclusion.

  “Do you want to come, Merry? Is that what you want?” Alex asked.

  “No,” she gasped breathlessly. “You,” she said, then cried out as Dylan applied more pressure to her clit to keep her right at the tip of her orgasm’s peak.

  “You want me to come?” Alex asked, pleasure suffusing his body and his voice. She’s perfect, he thought.

  “Yes,” she replied, focusing her gaze upward to his eyes. “Together.”

  “Oh, sweet girl,” Alex groaned, stroking himself with abandon as he felt his come rising in his balls. “Come for me,” he commanded. “Come for me now.”

  Obligingly, Dylan fucked Meredith rhythmically with his fingers as his tongue moved against her clit, but he needn’t have bothered. He knew Meredith’s orgasm had started with Alex’s demands—Dylan just helped keep it strong.

  Alex watched Meredith’s pleasure sweep up over her body, her cries rising as her eyes widened. She kept her eyes on his, letting him see every moment of her orgasm.

  It was too much.

  A second later, he felt his balls tighten as his own climax swept over him. He cried out once harshly, and then grunted, shooting his semen into his cupped left palm. She kept watch hungrily, her own come-cries still echoing as her body shook with pleasure.

  When they were both done, Dylan withdrew his fingers from Meredith, only to rest a kiss, and then his cheek, on her soft thigh. They watched, together, as Alex withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket. He cleaned off his hand before tucking himself back away in his trousers.

  “Thank you,” Alex told Meredith, his eyes never leaving hers. “You were beautiful.”

  And with that, Alex left, making sure the curtain closed after him as he did so.

  Dylan felt Meredith shift, and he moved first his head and then his body as she sat up. Confused, he tried to sort through the sudden onslaught of her emotions assaulting his empathic senses.

  “Get me out of here, Dylan,” she said. “Get me out of here now.”

  “What the hell was I doing?” Meredith raged, tears streaming down her face. Dylan had done as she requested, and had hustled her out of Alex’s pleasure dome. Her hired car had whisked them back to her hous
e, where Meredith had, oddly enough, begun cleaning out her refrigerator

  Dylan leaned against the island that stood across from the refrigerator, watching as Meredith slammed a variety of condiment jars onto the counter next to her, only to begin furiously spraying the refrigerator shelves down with disinfectant.

  “I mean, what the hell was that? What was I doing there? Why the hell did I let myself do that?” she continued, furiously scrubbing at the shelves with a cleaning rag. Dressed in her party finery, her actions looked more than a little odd. But Dylan understood.

  “Why shouldn’t you have been there? Did you not enjoy yourself?” he asked.

  “You know I enjoyed myself,” she replied, her voice bitter. “But that doesn’t matter. I should never have gone to that party. I should never have behaved the way I did.”

  Dylan watched her place the condiments back on the now-clean shelf with the same vehemence with which she’d removed them. He knew he had to intervene before she lost more than her mustard.

  “Mer,” he said, his voice soothing as he walked up behind her and stroked his hands down her arms. “Stop berating yourself.”

  To his surprise, she stepped away from him, and he felt the cold wash of her anger.

  “Don’t touch me. None of this would have happened before you came. I wasn’t like this before.”

  Dylan shook his head sadly. “No,” he agreed. “You weren’t. But is that a good thing?”

  Meredith shivered, but she wasn’t giving up so easily. “I was whole,” she whispered fiercely. “I knew who I was and what I wanted. I wasn’t like this.”

  Dylan closed the refrigerator doors to lean against them. He kept his posture carefully casual—not crowding her, not demanding anything of her. Meredith needed to have this moment, this conversation that was actually with herself, rather than with him. But it wasn’t going to be easy for either of them.

  “Who were you, then?” he asked as tears flooded her eyes.

  “I was Teddy’s,” she said as she crumpled to the floor like a wet rag.

  “Oh, lass,” Dylan said, sitting down next to her and gathering her in his arms. “Will you listen to yourself? You act like you were his property.”

  She sniffled, noisily and inelegantly, and he used his magic to pull the box of tissue off her counter and toward them. After she’d blown her nose, she sat back against the refrigerator door, legs straight out in front of her. He echoed her position, keeping his hands off her. This was something she was going to have to go through alone, even if he wanted to be there for her.

  “Everything was simple,” Meredith said, and her voice was that of a person looking deep inside, into the dark places where light rarely shone. “I knew exactly who I was. I was Teddy’s, and what he wanted, I wanted. I was happy,” she said, looking at Dylan as if begging him to understand.

  “I’m sure you were,” he replied. “You were in love. And you were a child when you two met.”

  “I was twenty-one,” she argued.

  “A child,” was Dylan’s only response. “Married to a much-older man who knew himself. Who knew what he wanted and could articulate his expectations when yours were still unformed.”

  “You make Teddy sound like a villain…some Svengali, controlling me. It wasn’t like that.”

  “No,” Dylan said. “I’m sure it wasn’t. Life is always more complicated than the narrations we force upon it. But there are the facts, Meredith. Your youth, Teddy’s experience, and the fact that, while you loved him, he is now gone.”

  Fat tears dripped down Meredith’s cheeks. “But why does everything have to change? Why do I have to change?”

  Dylan smiled a sad smile. He’d seen so many members of his own race, his own friends, turn from individuals delighted with their lives into cynical, world-weary beings longing for the ultimate release of the Summerlands. Dylan knew all about how people changed.

  “Change is inevitable, Mer. You’ve grown up, become a woman. Your experiences with Teddy were going to change you, no matter what, but you would have changed anyway. Life is change.”

  “But this? What am I doing with you, with Alex?”

  Dylan chuckled. “Are you really bothered by what happened tonight? Or do you feel you should be bothered?”

  Meredith immediately opened her mouth to answer, then he saw her reconsider. A second later her lips closed, then pursed in thought.

  “Do you feel…what do humans say? Dirty? Do you feel dirty about what we did?”

  After a pause, Meredith shook her head. “At the time, it felt right. It felt wonderful. But what must Alex think of me?”

  “Mer,” Dylan said, his voice gentle. “Alex isn’t Teddy. Teddy didn’t like sex much, did he?”

  Meredith blushed. “Teddy had more important things on his mind,” she said primly. Dylan arched an eyebrow at her.

  “No, he didn’t like sex,” she eventually responded to Dylan’s silent challenge. “He was too…fastidious. He didn’t like the mess. The physical or the emotional. Plus, he was sick. We didn’t know it at the time, but I don’t think he could have been more physical, even if he’d wanted to be.”

  “He could have been more physical, Mer. He mightn’t have been able to perform, himself, but he could still have enjoyed your body and your pleasure.”

  “That would have been unfair to him,” she protested.

  “Whilst making you ignore your body was fair?” Dylan asked. Meredith refused to answer, but her silence spoke for her.

  “It’s normal to want to be sexual, to want pleasure,” Dylan said, after he’d let her think for a bit. “To want to honor your body, as well as your mind.”

  “But what am I doing, Dylan?” Meredith interrupted, her voice small and scared. “I don’t know who this Meredith is, and I’m afraid.”

  Dylan touched her then. Wrapping his arms around Meredith, he pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin.

  “You’re living, lass. You’re living for yourself, with no one telling you how to be. And yes, it is scary. But it’s how it should be. You need to figure out what you want, not be told.”

  Meredith remained silent, thinking through all Dylan had said. When she finally spoke, she preceded her words by placing a long-fingered hand on the planes of his stomach. Dylan had long since let his tux-glamour melt away, leaving him “dressed” in his default glamour of a pair of jeans slung low on his hips.

  “I’m sorry I blamed you,” she said. He dipped his lips to kiss the top of her head, accepting her apology.

  “I’ve loved being with you. I’ve loved how you’ve made me feel. I was being awful, and you didn’t deserve that,” she continued. Meredith believed in thorough apologies. Before Dylan could answer her, however, she’d stood up.

  “Can we go swimming?” she asked.

  Dylan’s only response was to grin and hold out his hand so she could help him to his feet.

  Chapter Eleven

  Keeping a firm grasp on Meredith’s hand, Dylan powered them through the water using his magic. Unlike the first time they’d swum together, he’d taken the time to explain to Meredith that he could “breathe” for them. She’d nodded, wide-eyed in the night air, and he’d marveled at how far she’d come. Instead of questioning everything, Meredith had merely kicked off the flip-flops she’d worn down to the beach to protect her feet against the stones. Otherwise, she’d walked down naked, more proof of Meredith’s evolution that made Dylan fiercely proud of her.

  Meredith, meanwhile, reveled in how the ocean lit up her senses. While she knew the water was freezing in reality, with Dylan’s intervention it felt just shy of room temperature. And while she could see the waves were rough, it was like they softened right before hitting Meredith and Dylan, caressing the couple rather than beating against them.

  At first, she’d found it very difficult not to want to breach the surface of the water to breathe. Despite trusting Dylan and his magic, not breathing went against every natural instinct she had. But once she’
d stopped thinking about it, she’d discovered that minutes passed without her body straining for oxygen. Then they’d begun really swimming, and all other thoughts were pushed out of her mind.

  Dylan took them down, deep into the water. Cradling them in his magic, he descended with Meredith all the way to the sea floor. There, he let her explore.

  Meredith, one hand always in Dylan’s, crept along the ocean bottom. Even with the strong vision Dylan’s magic afforded her, the coastal region of Maine was hardly a tropical reef. And yet, while nothing sported bright colors, the seabed teemed with life. Lobsters lolloped about like drunken, clawed bulldogs between the other mollusks and crustaceans littering the sea floor. Meanwhile, hunting their bounty, codfish and haddock flashed grey-blue scales. The spotted sides of flounder winked at Meredith through the gloom as they too sought out their dinners.

  Everywhere Meredith looked, something either swam or scuttled. And then suddenly a whirl of activity preceded the arrival of two gray seals. Their lithe bodies whirled through the water as they darted after fat fish. Meredith was unsure how much of their actions was serious hunting and how much playing. Then, watching the seals’ joyful movements, she wondered if there was any difference for the jubilant creatures.

  Then Meredith had another thought. Looking at Dylan inquiringly, he immediately guessed what she was asking. No, he shook his head. They were not like him, but were real seals.

  Meredith smiled, and then turned to watch as the seals swam toward them. The two muscular bodies with their dappled skin stopped in front of Dylan and Meredith, watching them curiously as if wondering what the couple was doing there. They’d most likely only ever seen humans in boats or walking on land. Never swimming naked, as were Dylan and Meredith. Unbeknownst to Meredith, however, Dylan used a pulse of his empathy to assure the seals that he and Meredith meant no harm. And so the larger of the two moved closer toward them. Meredith reached out a tentative hand, stroking down the length of the seal’s body as it swam past. Then both seals whizzed around them in a circle, as if saying their good-byes, before darting off toward a small school of fish swimming in the distance.

 

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