Ocean's Surrender

by Denise Townsend

  “What’d you do?”

  “I got out of the car, walked home and locked my doors. He came by a couple of hours later with flowers, apologizing. Said he was under a lot of stress and that he’d never do it again.”

  Fen stroked a hand over River’s silky dark hair. “And you forgave him.”

  “Yes, but I was more careful. And I started to see more signs he wasn’t all there. He’d get mad at little things, or he’d expect things from people that just weren’t reasonable. Like he had a maid fired for not answering his personal cell phone once, when he’d never told her that she should do that. But he felt like he’d missed an important call because of her, so he had his dad fire her.

  “And the more stuff I noticed, the more I backed off. But the more I backed off, the harder he pursued me. It became ridiculous, with him giving me all these presents I didn’t want. Plus he was basically stalking me, making sure he knew where I was at all times.”

  “Sounds quite psycho, really,” Fen said, dampening his empathic output so that River wouldn’t become distracted by Fen’s own anger at this Trevor person.

  “Well, turns out he was. The irony is that I always told myself I’d never be like my mom or dad, with their string of losers. So I pick the one guy in Eastport to date who seems great on the surface, but who turns out to be not a flake, no, but a violent sociopath.”

  River’s emotions turned to fury, which quickly morphed into such bleak despair that Fen actually gasped. River smoothed a hand down his chest, realizing her empathic selkie must feel her own pain.

  “What happened?” Fen asked, dreading the truth. For he’d seen that network of fine scars, offset only by rougher, uglier marks, crisscrossing her body.

  “I broke it off with Trevor one night. I did it at the shop, figuring I’d be safer there. I told him to stop by after we closed, which was at about six. I told Jason to pick me up at seven, assuming he’d be a good excuse to leave if Trevor was trying to talk me out of something, or whatever.

  “But Trevor must have figured out what I was going to do by my tone, or something. Some creepy sixth sense, who knows. When I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore, he pulled out a rope. He tied me up and beat the shit out of me for a solid hour. He had a knife with him, and a Zippo. He used it to cut me, or he’d heat it up and burn me. He was hard the whole time, sometimes masturbating on me, although he never raped me. It was when he started strangling me that Jason walked in.”

  As she’d told Fen her story, River’s voice had been completely flat, her face a mask of calm Fen knew hid a blaze of emotions. He felt them washing over him—all the horror and despair of that night coupled with a guilt so profound it was crushing.

  “What did Jason do?”

  “He walked up to Trevor and snapped his neck. Just broke it, like he was wringing the life out of one of his chickens. There’s no doubt he saved my life; a few seconds more and Trevor would have crushed my windpipe.”

  Fen didn’t respond right away. He just tightened his hold on River, hugging her close and letting her feel his acceptance of her words.

  “Your brother saved your life,” the selkie said, eventually.

  “Yes. And I ruined his. He’s now seen as a killer. He was in jail, for a whole week, while Trevor’s family tried to get him indicted for murder. And I couldn’t do shit, because I was in the hospital.”

  With that, River sat up, extricating herself from Fen’s hug and the blankets in which she was wrapped. She stood, angrily, stalking over to peer out of the glass doors at the back of her house.

  “So I did all of this,” River said, her emotions slamming into Fen. “I let someone in who betrayed us. I made Jason into a killer. I ruined his life. I…”

  River’s voice faded. Fen could see tears dripping down her cheeks, reflected in the glass doors.

  Fen thought through what she said, and what she felt, and he made a decision.

  “River,” the selkie said, in a commanding voice that made the woman turn her head towards him. “No more of that talk. Such talk ends now.”

  She turned fully, anger rising within her as she prepared to argue. But Fen was serious.

  “No, River. This ends. Now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  River’s eyes narrowed at Fen, her Cajun temper quickly replacing all the guilt he was feeling seconds before.

  “Don’t tell me what will and will not end, in my own house,” she started, but he didn’t let her finish.

  Instead, he used his preternatural speed to cross the room to her, his mouth crushing against hers to stop the flow of words.

  She returned his kiss, but angrily, her lust finding expression in her outpouring of temper.

  When he pulled away abruptly, her expression was stormy but her eyes were dark with desire.

  With deliberate slowness, Fen pulled River’s light sweater over her head, doing the same to the cami he found underneath. Next he underdid her bra. Her leggings and panties went last, pushed down her legs, at which time he also removed her shoes.

  She flinched at the sight of her scars in the bright light of the living room, but she figured she’d already bared herself to the selkie, emotionally. He might as well see just how ugly she was.

  When River was naked before him, Fen pulled her up against him, her soft breasts rubbing gently against his hard abdomen. Then he bent low as if to kiss her, but at the last second his lips found her ear, instead.

  “You did nothing wrong,” was all he said.

  River went still in his arms, her anger going out like a wet match while her misery rose like a flood threatening to swamp over them both.

  “You did nothing wrong,” Fen repeated.

  River finally spoke, but in a voice so small even Fen’s acute hearing couldn’t make it out.

  “What, lass?”

  “I did everything wrong.”

  Fen sighed, turning River in his arms so she faced the glass doors in front of them. With the room well lit against the darkness outside, they acted like a perfect mirror.

  In which River watched Fen swat her firmly on her plump backside.

  “Ow, Fen, what the fuck?” she demanded. So he swatted her again. It wasn’t a hard spank, just a light sting. But it surprised her enough to break through that funk of misery threatening to send them both spiraling into the festering pain she held inside of her.

  “You did nothing wrong,” Fen repeated, his voice husky in River’s ear as he held her firmly in his grasp.

  River met Fen’s eyes in the reflection and articulated her next sentence carefully, in clear challenge.

  “I’ll say it again. I did everything wrong.”

  The slap on her rump was a bit harder now, leaving a delicious sting that Fen’s hand rubbed out with a gentle caress. She felt her belly clench with desire even as her frustration with the selkie increased.

  “What did you do wrong, then, River?”

  “I let a complete psychopath into our lives…” she started, but his hand spanking her bottom again stopped her.

  “No, you trusted someone who anyone would assume you should have trusted.” The whole time Fen was speaking, his hand roved gently over her bottom. “Now what else.”

  “I didn’t see the signs in time,” she started, only to feel another firm spank. River couldn’t help but gasp, a hot flush of desire running through her system. Fen’s hand rubbing away the sting only made her want him more.

  “No, you did see the signs and you did know to back off. You did the right thing. What else?”

  Her eyes locked on Fen’s, knowing he’d spank her but saying it anyway. “I let him get to me. I let him hurt me. I let him…”

  Smack came Fen’s hand across her bottom.

  “Trevor was a monster clever at disguising himself…”

  Smack.

  “but you found out despite him…”

  Smack.

  “and he then revealed himself to be something you never could have anticipated…”

&n
bsp; Smack.

  “so you are not…”

  Smack.

  “to blame…”

  Smack.

  “yourself.”

  River was shaking in Fen’s arms, her rump rising to meet his palm as he spanked her lightly, but firmly. This was a dangerous game Fen was playing, he knew that, but she had to understand that what Trevor did had nothing to do with her letting herself be vulnerable. In fact, she hadn’t trusted Trevor. She’d backed away from him, knowing he was bad news. She’d done the right thing, but no one in that town had any idea what lay behind that charming facade. How could they? Most monsters get away with being that way because the rest of the world is too decent to even conceive of their desires, their fantasies.

  “Now ask yourself, sweet girl,” Fen said, letting his hand move lower, from the heated, red skin of her bottom to the wet cleft he knew was waiting for him. His fingers found her hot and wanting, and she gasped when he touched her intimately.

  “Ask yourself if you’re stupid to trust, when you trust me.” River gasped again as Fen’s fingers sought out and found her clit, rubbing her own wetness against her.

  “Ask yourself if you’re weak, as you are now, in my arms.” Fen slid two fingers inside of River, fucking her gently as the fingers of his free hand moved upward to pinch her nipple.

  “Are you my victim, River?” he asked, letting her feel his desire for her—how much he wanted her, and how he’d do anything, at that moment, to please her.

  “No,” River whispered, hips pushing back onto his fingers, wanting more of him inside of her.

  “What are you, then?” he asked, his black gaze spearing hers in the mirrored glass.

  “Your lover,” she whispered. He growled in affirmation, finding her clit with his thumb.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what you are, sweet girl. You’re my lover, and I want you to come for me. Come for me, River. Come for me now…”

  And suddenly she was there, her belly in knots as pleasure coursed up through her from her cunt. The orgasm would have knocked her down if Fen hadn’t been there, holding her up. Yet still he kept his fingers moving, drawing out her pleasure till she thought she would weep.

  While she was still reeling, Fen picked River up and carried her into her bedroom.

  At the sight of her queen-sized brass bed with its spindled headboard, Fen had an inspiration. Lying River down on her bed, he looked around for what he needed.

  Perfect, he thought, seeing a pretty silk scarf thrown decoratively over the changing screen she kept in the corner.

  When he grabbed it and came back to the bed, River’s eyes watched him with trepidation.

  “What are you doing?” River asked, as he gathered her wrists in his hands.

  “Tying you up. If you’ll let me.”

  A hot flush of fear coursed through River as Fen remembered her whispered words. “He’d brought some rope. He tied me up.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, starting to shiver again.

  “Because you can trust me,” Fen told her, running a hand gently over her cheek. “Because I only want to pleasure you. Because I want you to understand that giving up control isn’t the same thing as asking to be hurt.”

  Her dark-velvet eyes were still wide in her pale face, but desire was beginning to edge out River’s fear.

  “What will I do to you, do you think, if I tie you up?” Fen asked River, stroking the soft silk of the scarf over her heated skin.

  “I don’t know,” River said.

  “River, you do know. What am I going to do, if you’re stretched out like this in front of me, naked, your little sex dripping and your hands tied tight over your head?”

  Lust snaked around River’s thoughts, and she took a deep breath. When she spoke her voice was quiet, but rough.

  “You’re going to fuck me.”

  Fen stroked her breast approvingly.

  “Yes. And what else am I going to do?”

  “You’ll make me come again.”

  “Good girl. What else?”

  “Would you like to come?” she asked, her back arching into his hand. He lowered his mouth to one of her tight little nipples as a reward.

  “Yes, sweet girl,” he answered her, once he’d ceased his soft sucking. “I do want to come. So will you let me? May I tie you up, and fuck you, and make you come?

  “Do you trust me?”

  Fen’s last question was pointed, but River was too far gone to protest. “Oh god, yes,” she sobbed. “I want you to fuck me, Fen.”

  The knot Fen tied around River’s wrists was a joke. She could have undone it at any point with a sharp tug, or slipped a hand out without even undoing it. But it was what that soft silk represented that was important to Fen.

  Fen wanted River to understand that what had happened to her wasn’t because of any choice she made. In fact, Trevor had acted to take all of her choices away from her. That’s what he’d wanted, from the beginning, although there had been no way for River to know that.

  So it wasn’t trust that had gotten River into trouble. She hadn’t even been that trusting, if she’d just be honest with herself. As soon as Trevor had shown signs he wasn’t quite all there, she’d backed away.

  And River certainly couldn’t go through the rest of her life not trusting anyone except her brother. Every real relationship is based on trust, and vulnerability is the natural outcome of caring for someone. So in her attempt to keep herself “safe”, River was just caging herself in, alone, with only her demons for company.

  “Is this okay?” Fen asked River, gliding his hand down her warm flank and sending out reassuring waves of calm and desire. Nothing in his emotions spoke of a desire to hurt her, or to see her weak. All he wanted was to pleasure her, but she had to let go of all those walls for him to really do so.

  River nodded, her emotions still a jumble. But Fen knew how to fix that.

  His fingers went first, finding her plump nether lips and parting them gently. Then he found her clit, pinching it lightly between forefinger and thumb.

  “What having you like this does for me,” Fen told her, “is that now your pleasure becomes my responsibility.”

  The selkie moved to kneel between River’s thighs, never stopping his gentle pressure on her clit.

  “With your hands tied like that, you can’t make yourself come. You can’t even really change your position.”

  He slid a finger inside of her, slowly, although he kept a gentle pressure on her clit with his thumb. River whimpered, her eyes never leaving his. Her fear was also abating, all the negative emotions in that jumble slowly being replaced by desire, and, albeit even more slowly, with trust.

  “So that means that I have to make sure you come, River. As your lover, I want that, and with you tied like this it’s all on me. I’m assuming you want to come?”

  “Yes,” River whispered, her hips bucking gently as his fingers never stopped touching.

  “Tell me what you want, sweet girl.”

  “I want to come, Fen, I want you to make me come.” River’s voice was rough with need, her eyes blazing with desire. But there was still not perfect trust there, and just the faintest edge of fear.

  So Fen kept his fingers where they were, but moved up River’s body so their faces were inches from one another. He kissed her gently, still manipulating her wet cunt with his talented fingers. But he also placed his free hand on her wrists, to remind her of her bindings.

  She kissed him back, but her emotions had snarled again. He rubbed her more firmly, feeling her pleasure soar clear and strong, if nothing else.

  “I’ll let you come, River, but you have to do something for me first.”

  “What?” she asked, breathless, her thighs quivering where they brushed his hand.

  “You have to say it wasn’t your fault.”

  River froze, all her emotions spiraling downward.

  But Fen wasn’t letting her off the hook.

  “Look at yourself, right no
w, River. You just met me. You’ve known me for bare days. And yet you let me strip you, tie you up, fuck you with my fingers. Why?”

  River’s expression was haunted, as she sought for words.

  “I’m not…I can’t…”

  “Just answer the question, lass. Why are you allowing me to do this to you?” To punctuate his words, Fen’s fingers started to move in River’s cunt again, but slowly, gently, as if they were a reminder rather than that driving force of pleasure they’d been before.

  “Because it’s you,” River said.

  “But I’m a stranger, River. What is it about me?”

  “You don’t…you don’t want to hurt me.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I can feel it.”

  “But how? Couldn’t I be lying?” Fen’s thumb was back on River’s clit, thrumming gently. Her emotions were settling enough for her to feel her body, something that had been impossible when the first shock of Fen’s question had hit her.

  “Yes. I suppose. But you’re not.”

  “But how do you know, River?”

  “I don’t,” she said eventually. “I just trust you.”

  Fen kissed the girl as reward, and filled her with another finger, making her gasp.

  “And without that trust, I couldn’t do this,” Fen said, thrusting into her gently.

  “Nor could I do this.” This time he added a third finger, rubbing River harder so that she groaned, her cunt weeping around his fingers.

  “Ultimately, that would mean I couldn’t make you do this, either.”

  Fen’s lips closed on River’s as his expert fingers, guided by his ability to sense the ebb and flow of River’s desire, drove the girl to a thundering orgasm.

  He sucked on her lips through her moans, never letting go of her wrists, reminding her that pleasure was inevitably a product of vulnerability—the vulnerability of loving another, either with the flesh, or the heart or with both.