Ocean's Touch

A lonely widow and a handsome artist have a chance for happiness…with the help of a sexy selkie, that is. After the dea...

Author: Townsend Denise

6 downloads 322 Views 819KB Size Report

This content was uploaded by our users and we assume good faith they have the permission to share this book. If you own the copyright to this book and it is wrongfully on our website, we offer a simple DMCA procedure to remove your content from our site. Start by pressing the button below!
Report copyright / DMCA form

DOWNLOAD PDF

A lonely widow and a handsome artist have a chance for happiness…with the help of a sexy selkie, that is. After the death of Meredith’s husband many years before, she allowed his legacy to take over her life. A shell of a woman, she finds little joy in her day-today tasks. Drawn to her pain, the empathic selkie Dylan knows she’s ready to live and love again, and he knows that he’s just the man for the job. As Dylan draws Meredith out of her shell, he realizes that to truly free her, he needs to help her accept her budding love for Alexander, an artist who challenges Meredith on every level: intellectually, emotionally and sexually. To achieve a true happy ending, Dylan must help his chosen humans break down their emotional barriers in order to grab the happiness they so deserve. Warning: This book features a lonely widow, a hot artist waiting in the wings, and the sexy selkie who brings them together…in every possible way.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Ocean’s Touch Copyright © 2011 by Denise Townsend ISBN: 978-1-60928-880-8 Edited by Heather Osborn Cover by Valerie Tibbs All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2011 www.samhainpublishing.com

Ocean’s Touch Denise Townsend

Dedication

To Julie, Sophie, and Rachael—some of my favorite naughty ladies.

Chapter One

Sweat dripped down Meredith’s back, tracing along her spine. Like a tongue, she thought, before pushing such silly notions out of her head. Yet still she shivered at the sensation, so like the touch of a wet finger. Of course I’m shivering, she told herself. It’s fall, and it’s Maine. It’s cold out. In reality, it was her favorite time to run. Although she would never admit it to herself, Meredith loved the sensations she experienced during her autumn jaunts along the wooded trails crisscrossing her and her neighbors’ properties. Her limbs chilled by the cold rush of sea air that came in over Seal Harbor, coupled with the blood pumping hot through her veins, made her feel—at least for the hour she was outside—so very alive. One more mile, she thought, reveling in the pull of her muscles as she pushed herself. Her calves sang with exertion, her thighs felt tight—she could feel every part of herself working as she pushed both her body and mind to their limits. She slowed only when she neared the private beach that was part of her immense estate. Beginning her cool down, Meredith walked toward the little pagoda that sat straddling a section of grass and a section of rocky pebbles. Unfurling one of the yoga mats that lived in the pagoda, Meredith began the first of many Sun Salutations. Lengthening her already long body, she greeted the sun, inhaling a deep breath as she did so.

Ocean’s Touch

And to think I was so opposed to yoga in the beginning, she thought to herself as she gracefully performed her Swan Dive. Letting her slender hands touch the deck, she stayed in Forward Fall for a moment, allowing her memories to drift. She’d only researched yoga after Teddy had been diagnosed with lupus, and she’d been so desperate to find something, anything, to keep him healthy. They’d hired a private instructor to come in and teach them. Ironically, although Teddy’d never taken to it, Meredith had. What would I do without my yoga? she thought to herself, panting out a breath as she pushed her legs back into Plank, and then lowered herself down using her arms, only to arch her spine back up into Cobra. Yoga had gotten her through Teddy’s long illness, with its various slow debilitations. She just wished he could have shared it with her. But he was never a physical person, she thought. Not that it mattered. He taught me to love the life of the mind, which is worth far more than that of the body. With that thought, she couldn’t help but remember Teddy’s face. She’d been only twenty-one when she’d met Theodore Casaubon—he, a faculty member in her graduate program; she, an eager young student of art history. The attraction had been sudden and intense. His craggily handsome face and wild shock of sandy hair had instantly reminded her of Ted Hughes, the poet. She had read his engraved faculty nametag—Dr. Theodore Casaubon—and instantly imagined him ripping out her hair band and mauling her in public, just as Ted Hughes had upon first meeting Sylvia Plath. As if Teddy would have mauled anyone, Meredith thought with amusement as she again put her weight into her shoulders to push her hips up into Down Dog. She held back a groan as she felt that delicious ache in her back, thighs, and buttocks. This was exercise, not pleasure.

www.samhainpublishing.com

7

Denise Townsend

It was Teddy who taught me something more important than pleasure, she reminded herself, remembering his intelligence, his kindness, and his propriety. Torrid sex lives are for people who read Cosmopolitan or watch HBO, not for people who take themselves and their worlds seriously. They’d married only a year after meeting. Teddy had been forty-four, but that hadn’t bothered her, as he’d seemed immortal. Then he was diagnosed with lupus only months into their marriage, and he’d died eight years later. That had been five years ago, last month. Unwittingly experiencing the effects of a disease he didn’t yet know he had, Teddy’s courtship of her had seemed quaint, gentlemanly. While affectionate physically, their dating, their honeymoon, and even their marriage had been almost entirely chaste. They’d had intercourse, of course, in the beginning of their time together. But, truthfully, neither of them had found the experiences particularly enjoyable, and soon enough Teddy’s disease made coitus an impossibility. Not that it mattered! she told herself, settling her weight into her heels to deepen her stretch. Instead of sex, they’d had discussions that had set her soul alight; instead of passion for each other’s bodies, they’d shared a passion for the arts, for literature, and for charity that was immune to the ravages of age and disease. Teddy’s body may have wasted away, Meredith thought as she breathed deeply, only to exhale as she extended one foot forward and then raised her upper body into Proud Warrior. But his mind remained sharp and perfect till the day he died. Long past the stage where such thoughts made her cry out in grief as they once had, she held and then deepened the pose.

8


Ocean’s Touch

He was my husband, she thought. His generosity of spirit and his force of mind made me what I am today. Her abdomen pulled tight and her shoulders sang with the ache of holding her arms aloft before she finally moved her left leg to meet her right, raising her arms one final time before bringing them to her chest, palms together, in Prayer. Time to begin her Sun Salutation again, the first of many such repetitions.

Dylan sat in the shadows of a copse of pine trees, at the very edge of the woman’s property, watching her dark-haired figure bend itself into a series of ridiculously sexy poses. Not that she has any idea how sexy they are, he thought sadly. Wrapping himself tighter in his sealskin and his glamoured invisibility, he stood to move closer to the pagoda. Dylan had been watching the woman for a few weeks now. At first, he’d come for the lovely expanse of her well-maintained beach, so very similar to those of his Orkney birthplace. Soon enough, however, she had been what drew him close. He’d taken to watching her during her outdoor exercises, then at her house, and finally he’d even followed her into town. Keeping himself invisible, he’d hoped to glean some indication of what made someone so strong so miserable, and why she felt it was important never to admit her pain, even to herself. “You’re so sad, lass,” he whispered in his rich Scottish brogue, feeling the waves of emptiness and desolation flowing off her like waves. An empath, as were all of his people, Dylan felt her emotional turmoil like a knife.


9

Denise Townsend

“And the worst part is, you don’t ken how lost you are,” he murmured. She hid it well, under cover of a perfect posture, a constant involvement in the work and charity that took up so much of her time, and that placid expression she kept pasted on her face. To other humans she probably seemed perfectly content, but he saw the truth in her large brown eyes. For the pain that beat off her formed in his own breast as an almost physical ache. She was grieving a dead husband, that much he knew. But the man had been buried five years now, and Dylan sensed something more…another loss, even stronger because it was unacknowledged. “Aye, lass, there’s something more to you and to your grief,” he told her distant form, watching appreciatively as she raised her rear end high in the air with her hands still planted firmly on her mat. “And you can be sure I won’t give up till I find out what it is,” Dylan vowed, pulling his sealskin a little higher on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry we had to call this emergency meeting,” Ron apologized as Meredith settled her briefcase on the table and sat, crossing her booted ankles primly before settling her long skirt over her knees. “Don’t be silly,” Meredith told her and Teddy’s lawyer. “You know I’m always available.” Ron smiled at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. It seemed affectionate, but it was laced with…was it pity? “Yes, Meredith. You have done an admirable job running Teddy’s affairs after his death.”

10


Ocean’s Touch

“There’s nothing to admire,” she said, in a voice sharp even to her own ears. “These are the things Teddy cared about…that we cared about. There’s no reason to let them go just because he’s gone.” “Of course,” Ron said, his lawyer’s voice gone placating and smooth. “Do you think Mrs. Casaubon will be in attendance?” Meredith kept a rein on her irritation, making sure to keep her face placid. “No,” she replied calmly. “Teddy’s mother is at her doctor’s today. Routine things, she’s fine. But she won’t make it in on time.” Teddy could have lived to be one hundred, with the two of us married that entire time, and I would still never have been Mrs. Casaubon, she thought, letting her mind express the annoyance she didn’t allow to show on her face. Meredith knew she shouldn’t let such petty things bother her, not with all that had happened. But for her entire marriage to Teddy, she’d been “Teddy’s wife,” while Teddy’s mother had always been “Mrs. Casaubon”. They’d even been introduced like that at parties by Teddy’s friends: “Dr. Stubert, I’d like you to meet Dr. Theodore Casaubon. And this is Mrs. Casaubon. Oh, and that’s Teddy’s wife.” I’m not being fair. Mrs. Casau…er, Elizabeth is a good woman, Meredith thought, purposely using her mother-in-law’s first name, something no one ever actually did out loud. She loved her son. I’m lucky she wants to help me. That little part of her brain—the part that was cynical—scoffed at the idea. She doesn’t help you, it said. She just has to be involved. She never let her son go in life, and now she can’t let him go in death. And she hates you as the one person who nearly took him from her, so don’t try to be nice. As usual when she had these internal debates about Mrs. Casaubon, Meredith couldn’t help but remember what the old woman had said at Teddy’s funeral. It’s a good thing you two never had any children to be raised without Teddy’s


11

Denise Townsend

influence. Meredith kept her face carefully neutral, but as always her body shuddered involuntarily at the memory. It’s like she’d rather have him dead than “lose him” to me. Not that I would have done that to her, or to him. He loved his mother. I would never have tried to come between them. And she hadn’t. Not when Teddy was alive, and not now, when he was dead. After all, Meredith could have denied Mrs. Casaubon any access to Teddy’s legacy if she’d wanted. In an act that Meredith knew cut the old woman deeply, Teddy had left his entire estate, including the running of it, to Meredith and not to his mother. Meredith knew it wasn’t a personal dig—it was merely Teddy’s practicality asserting itself—Meredith was young and fit and could do the work for a very long time. Mrs. Casaubon was an elderly woman who might not outlive her son by many years. As if mere death would touch her, whispered the wicked part of her brain. He’ll have to send the four horsemen of the Apocalypse when it’s her time. And they might want backup. She couldn’t help but smile, if guiltily, at the thought. Ron cleared his throat. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. Off daydreaming again.” She blushed. “It’s fine. You’ve had a lot to worry about with the market crash.” “I know we’ll be fine personally,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just so worried about the charities…” Not that she’d known it when she’d met the rather shabbily dressed philosophy professor, Dr. Casaubon, but Teddy’s family had been enormously wealthy since time immemorial. And Teddy was the sole living heir to all of that wealth. Yes, he’d been a college professor at an elite university, but that had been more of a hobby for Teddy. His real work was here, in this bank boardroom, where he doled out his immense fortune to various charities and institutions run

12


Ocean’s Touch

by the Casaubon family. As his heir, she was now solely responsible for overseeing the administration of that legacy, which included everything from art programs for underprivileged children in America to schools for orphans of war in the Balkans and Afghanistan. It was a full-time job, and it had become her fulltime job upon Teddy’s death. He’d seen to that. Promise me you’ll do this, she remembered him saying on repeated occasions. Promise me that you’ll run everything yourself. I don’t want boards, or CEOs, or ‘professionals,’ even if they are bloody experts. I want you to run everything, as I ran everything. I’ll still be there, through you… To be honest, she was still daunted by the task he’d set her. But she’d done her best and over the last five years had become nearly as expert as Teddy in what she needed to know to be his right arm on earth. She knew he’d be proud of her. “Well, you shouldn’t be worried, Meredith,” Ron said, interrupting her reverie. “You’re as good as Teddy ever was at these matters. You’ve settled very firmly into his shoes. It’s like he’s still with us when you’re here.” At Ron’s words, Meredith felt a lump in her throat. She should be proud hearing such things; she should be thrilled that people thought her a replacement for Teddy. But for some reason, at hearing Ron articulate what she’d thought was her greatest wish, all Meredith felt was dread.


13

Chapter Two

If this doesn’t make me feel better, nothing will, thought Meredith, as she set fire to the kindling in her beach’s little fire pit. Once it had caught alight, she sat back in her chair, wrapping the blanket more firmly around her legs. Wearily, she reached for the plastic tumbler of wine nestled safely in the pebbles next to her right foot, careful not to knock over the bottle that sat behind it. “Ah,” she breathed, after she’d taken a long draught. Delicious. Meredith leaned farther back, her face upturned to the stars. All day, after her conversation with Ron, she’d felt out of sorts. What he’d said had bothered her, although she had no idea why. It’s what I wanted, she thought plaintively. To be a help to Teddy, to continue his work…I’m doing a good job. Suddenly, she blinked back tears. So why do I feel so empty? The stars above winked their cold and distant light, refusing to answer her question.

Dylan watched the woman build her fire—an almost nightly ritual that he knew gave her pleasure. She’d sit in front of the flames, wrapped in a blanket, and enjoy a single glass of wine while gazing up at the night sky. When the fire died, she’d head back to her cold house and her colder bed. It’s a shame for such a fine lass to be alone as she is. It makes no sense.

Ocean’s Touch

She nestled further back in her chair, but he doubted she was cold, despite the crispness of the fall air. After all, he thought, she’s swaddled like a mummy in all those clothes… As usual, Meredith was wearing what Dylan thought of as her “uniform”—a long skirt over thick tights and knee-high boots on the bottom, a long-sleeved turtleneck underneath a cable-knit sweater on top, and all of that gorgeous dark hair pulled back into a rather severe French twist. Dylan had lived a long time, and had seen human fashions go through innumerable changes, but he knew that Meredith dressed in a way suitable only to elderly matriarchs or Puritan colonists. What are you hiding, lass? he thought. Then, struck by the thought that now was as good a time as any to begin finding out, he moved forward, up the beach toward her, gathering his sealskin and his glamour around him tightly.

Meredith nearly fell out of her chair when a strange man walked into the puddle of light cast by her fire pit’s small blaze. Instinctively she reached for the bottle at her feet, grasping it by the neck. After all, she’d seen old cowboy movies, and she was as ready to break the end off the bottle and brandish it as any cowpoke in the Old West. “Are you all right, lass?” the stranger asked. Meredith blinked at him, tightening her grip on the bottle. Meanwhile, Dylan forced himself to keep a rein on his glamour. With one push of his mind, he could convince Meredith that they were the oldest of friends, or lovers, or even husband and wife. But that’s not what he wanted from her—nothing coerced or forced. He wanted the real woman, not what he’d make her into. So he kept his glamour limited to making himself look human and


15

Denise Townsend

clothed—women in this century didn’t seem to appreciate a man dressed in a sealskin cloak and nothing else nearly as much as they should. “Who are you?” Meredith demanded. “I’m sorry, lass. I’ve scared you. I was out walking and I saw the fire. Came to see that everything was all right. I mean no harm.” “This is private property,” Meredith said, refusing to notice just how handsome the stranger was—how large and dark his eyes, how broad the sweep of his shoulders. “You don’t belong here.” “Ack, I’m sorry. I had no idea the beach was private. I’m not from here, as you probably ken. I was just passing through. But I’ll leave, and I’m very sorry to have disturbed you…” Meredith frowned, suddenly feeling rather guilty. “Look, I’m the one that should be sorry. That was no way to treat a stranger. You just scared me, is all.” “No bother. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. I’m called Dylan,” he said, moving closer to her with his hand outstretched. Meredith let go of her death grip on the bottle, feeling a bit sheepish as she extended her own hand toward him. “I’m Meredith. Please, feel free to join me. I don’t have another glass, but…” “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother. You looked like you were thinking, just the now.” Meredith smiled her sad smile, and Dylan again felt that aching loneliness she carried around with her. “No, not thinking. Just relaxing. Please, do sit.” Meredith couldn’t help but return the brilliant smile the dark, young man gave her as he settled himself in the closest of the other three chairs that surrounded the small fire pit.

16


Ocean’s Touch

“So, Dylan,” she said. “Where are you from, anyway? You sound Scottish…sort of? I’m sorry, I can’t quite place that accent…” To Meredith’s welltraveled ears, Dylan did sound vaguely Scottish. But there was something even rounder about his vowels and a slightly more accentuated lilt to some of his pronunciations. “Oh, I’m from around that area, yes. And yourself? Have you always lived in Maine?” “Me? No. I grew up in the Midwest, actually. Near Chicago. I came to Maine with my husband; he is…well, was, from here.” “Was?” “He died.” “I’m sorry for your loss,” Dylan said, and Meredith believed him when he said it. “It was a long time ago,” she replied, suddenly wanting to soothe him as much as he clearly wanted to soothe her. “Aye, but some wounds never heal,” Dylan said, bowing his dark head. It was hard to get a very good look at him in the flickering light of the fire, but Meredith could see dark hair, dark eyes, and a very fit body. Not that she admired such things, of course, but she prided herself on her keen sense of observation. “So what brought you to Maine?” Meredith asked. “I travel a lot,” Dylan said. “You could say that the sea’s my home.” Meredith couldn’t help but smile at that image. Having grown up landlocked but for occasional glimpses of Lake Michigan, she’d been an instant and thorough convert to oceanside living. She couldn’t imagine waking up to any other odor but the smell of the sea, or to any other sound and scenery but the rough, crashing waves of the frigid Atlantic.


17

Denise Townsend

“And is that your great house then, up there?” Dylan asked. Meredith blushed. “Yes, I’m afraid it is. It was my husband’s. I rattle around in it, to tell you the truth.” Why did I just say that? she asked herself. That’s Teddy’s home. I love living in Teddy’s home. “Well, I rattle around in the ocean, so together we’re like a pair of maracas,” Dylan joked, giving her a roguish wink. To her horror, she actually giggled. She covered her embarrassment by noisily slurping her wine. You don’t giggle, Meredith! she reminded herself. Control yourself! After swallowing another gulp of wine, she forced herself to breathe. “I do love the ocean,” she told him. “I didn’t live anywhere near the sea growing up, obviously, but now it’s become a part of me.” “It does that,” Dylan said, staring out at the water as affectionately as a child would his mother. “But I reckon you belong close to her,” he said, turning both his attention and his liquid-dark eyes toward her. She felt color rise to her cheeks again as she flushed hot. “Why?” She asked. “Your name is of the sea,” he said. “Mer…like sea.” She smiled. “But no one calls me Mer. I’m always Meredith.” In reality, she had been called Merry, and sometimes Mer, before she’d met Teddy. Ironically for someone who always went by his own nickname, he’d forbidden her to use anything but Meredith. You’re a grown woman, never use such a childish name, she remembered him saying. In fact, one day only a few months into their dating, he’d turned to her after she’d introduced herself to his colleague as “Merry.” “From now on, you’re Meredith,” Teddy had said. And she had been.

18


Ocean’s Touch

“Well, as you like the sea, why not claim it as your own?” Dylan said, still favoring her with that devilish smile. “May I call you Mer?” For a second she considered saying no, then thought that was silly. He was a stranger, after all, only passing through. What harm did one evening’s nickname do? “Fine,” she told him. “You may call me Mer.” “Aye, then. Mer,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. Suddenly, she felt the blood rush to her head, and she felt almost tipsy. She remembered old legends of the power of names in ancient cultures, and for a moment she believed them true. But then she shook her head, and the sensation faded. No more wine for me, she thought, placing her tumbler firmly down, back into the pebbles at her feet. “So what do you do, Dylan?” she asked, forcing herself to look directly at him. There was something about that hawkish nose and high cheekbones that she found disconcerting. Not to mention the intensity of his gaze. “Me? You could call me a fisherman,” he said. “And what about you, Mer?” “Oh, I work for my husband’s estate. He was a very important man. He left me with a lot to do to keep busy.” “Ah, I see. But what do you do?” he asked, his anglicized pronunciation of you startling after the previously snipped vowels of his accent. “What do you mean, what do I do?” “You’ve told me about your husband’s work, but not about your own. What do you do, for yourself?” “Do you mean like hobbies?” “Aye. Hobbies, work, whatever you do for yourself.” Meredith thought about that. “Um…I run. And I do yoga.”


19

Denise Townsend

“And?” “Um…I attend functions…” “With your friends?” “Of course. With my friends and my husband’s friends.” “So you go to parties?” Dylan asked. “No, not parties, per se. They’re functions.” “That sounds like work, not fun.” “Well,” she said, a bit defensively, “not all of us get to have fun. That house might look grand, but it comes with a lot of responsibility. Just like that ocean might look tempting, but swimming in it has its consequences.” Dylan had been somber talking to her, but at her words his face lit up. “The ocean?” he asked, with a cheeky grin. “The one over there?” “Yes,” she said, feeling both exasperated and amused. “The rather large body of water in front of us.” “Oh, that one. An’ what sorta consequences does she have?” “You’ll die if you swim in it right now, for one,” Meredith replied. “Fiddlesticks,” Dylan said. “I swim in her all the time.” “No you don’t,” she said. “Nobody can swim in that sea, especially now.” “Fiddlesticks,” he repeated. “I tell you, I swim in her all the time.” “No you don’t.” “Aye, I do.” “No, you don’t.” “Aye, I do. I was just in there, matter of fact.” “Dylan!” she barked, finished playing. “There’s no way you were just swimming in that sea. Just stop it now.” “Stop what? I’m only telling the truth. In fact, I can take you with me, if you like.”

20


Ocean’s Touch

She blinked at him. “That’s absurd.” “Are you chicken, then?” “I’m not chicken, Dylan,” she said, feeling as exasperated with herself for entertaining such nonsense as she was with him. “Then why don’t you come swimming with me?” “Because it’s freezing. Hypothermia freezing. And I don’t even know you.” “Have you never done anything impetuous, then? Something you were afraid of, but you did anyway, and it was glorious?” Meredith remembered lots of things like that—Merry had been a devilish girl—always quick to take a dare, perform a prank, or instigate trouble. But Merry’s gone, and Meredith doesn’t do such things, she thought. She stood, gathering her blankets around her. “It was nice meeting you, Dylan,” she said. “But it’s time for me to go inside. I’m assuming you’ll have moved on by the time morning comes.” Dylan stood with her, cursing his impetuousness. You shouldn’t have pushed her, he told himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve offended you.” Meredith stood there, suddenly feeling silly again for having reacted so powerfully. Why was this stranger making her so dramatic, like some teenager in an afterschool special? “No, you haven’t offended me. I’m just tired. And, to be honest,” she continued, deciding to speak the truth. “I rather resent your offering me a swim like that. That’s always been a dream of mine, and to have it…well, I feel you sort of stepped on that dream, just now.” “Oh, Mer,” he said. “It’s not a dream.”


21

Denise Townsend

Dylan hated using his magic to coerce humans, but when he saw Meredith’s face set back into its usual mask, he knew he’d never get under that armor she’d built around herself. And so he used a very, very slight nudge. Not enough glamour to actually change her mind, but just enough to open her up to new ideas, just a little bit more than she was now. He still left the choice up to her, but he made choosing his offer less mad than Meredith clearly thought it. “Mer,” he repeated. “I really can take you swimmin’ with me. If you’ll trust me.” Her eyes were still hesitant, but they were no longer staring at him like he was an enemy. “How?” she asked, her voice small as a child’s. He’d sensed her affinity with the sea, and she’d obviously been telling the truth when she’d said swimming in the rough, frigid waters of the northern Atlantic was a fantasy of hers. “What if I said it was magic?” he asked, again using his glamour to ask her to trust him. “Magic?” she laughed, clearly not believing him. But there was an edge of sadness to her otherwise cynical tone. “Magic doesn’t exist.” “Fine, then. We’ll call it science. Skill. Luck. Whatever you want, as long as you trust me.” “This is insane,” she said. “A little, perhaps,” he replied, grinning. “But why not give it a try? We’ll go slow, and if at any point you feel bad about it, we’ll turn around.” Meredith’s thoughts were racing a mile a minute. She knew what this stranger wanted was ridiculous, and a part of her brain was screaming at her that he was probably some sadistic serial killer who talked his victims into letting him drown them. But another part of her brain trusted him for some unknown

22


Ocean’s Touch

reason, and that part of her brain was ganging up with the part of her brain that still remembered the little girl, Merry, who had believed so powerfully in fairies, and Narnia, and magic… She’d thought that little girl had finally been silenced by lupus, but there she was—all excited and curious and eager to be let out from the corner of Meredith’s brain where she’d been shunted. “Okay,” she heard herself whisper, much to her own horror. “We’ll try.” “Good,” he grinned, the joy of his expression nearly taking her breath away. Why does he care so much? she wondered. And about me? “Right, then, off with your kit,” he said, and suddenly he was standing there wearing only jeans, his powerfully muscled chest with its smattering of fine dark hairs gleaming in the moonlight. She had no idea how that had just happened, but the suddenness of it was no more disconcerting than all his smooth flesh suddenly on display. “I can’t get naked,” she said shrilly, suddenly realizing what she’d gotten herself into. He grinned. “Then don’t get naked. But you can’t go swimmin’ in all of that,” he said, gesturing broadly to indicate the full extent of her blanket, sweater, skirt, and boots. She frowned back at him, then made up her mind. Tights and the turtleneck will be fine, she thought. And I won’t freeze to death or look completely ridiculous walking to the water, where all of this will turn out to be some bizarre hoax on his part. “Fine,” Meredith said. “But if this is some scheme to see me in my lingerie, you’re out of luck. I don’t own any.” That’s a pity, he thought, as he watched her fold the blanket onto the chair she’d just vacated, then pull of her sweater, undo her skirt, and finally take off


23

Denise Townsend

her boots. The sweater and skirt joined the blanket in a neat pile on the chair; the boots were stowed underneath. Then she turned to face him. A pair of thick woolen tights and a long-sleeved turtleneck were hardly the raciest things he’d seen a woman wear during his long life, but Meredith still took his breath away. Standing out of the firelight and under the moonlight that washed any color she wore to blacks and grays, her white skin stood in stark contrast to the darkness of her clothing. She was long and lean, but without the bulk of all those clothes he could see how curvaceous she was in the hips, thighs, and breasts. Despite all her running, he could see she still had a sweet, soft belly, his favorite part of a woman’s body. He imagined stroking her there, before setting his teeth gently to her soft flesh, and he felt himself grow hard. Dylan forced himself to look away from her stomach, his eyes trailing up to the dark cap of her hair. But he only felt another ache in his cock as he imagined undoing that long, sleek mass and running his fingers through it. “C’mon then, lass,” he said, his voice rough. “Down to the water we go.” Meredith watched Dylan stride off, her heart in her throat. The way he looked at me, just now… She didn’t think she’d ever been looked at like that. Certainly not by the handful of high school and college boys she’d dated before Teddy. And never by Teddy, either, she admitted, but refused to dwell on that thought. “C’mon!” Dylan called, “Chicken!” That brought her out of her dreaming. I’ll show him a chicken, she thought, as she walked toward the large, dark figure standing at the very edge of the water.

24


Chapter Three

“You’ll have to take my hand, lass,” Dylan said. “At least for the now.” Frowning skeptically, Meredith tentatively extended her arm toward him. The fingers that grasped hers were warm, dry, and strong. She shivered at the feel of his calloused palms against hers as he entwined their fingers, clasping her hand in a firm, oddly comforting grip. Nevertheless, when he tugged her down toward the water, she froze. “It’ll be freezing,” she said. “Really freezing. This is stupid…” Meredith started to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand. “Trust me, Meredith. Just trust me. Please.” Her eyes shone wide in the moonlight, her fear and anxiety beating against him. He held back from amping up his glamour; he wanted her to want this, and fully to experience the range of surprise and pleasure he had planned for her. If he glamoured her now, she’d never really want him. Her dark gaze darted between him and the sea, and he could feel her start shivering. It wasn’t entirely because of the cold. “This is crazy,” she whispered, but there was a note of pleading to her voice. She wants this to come true, he realized. Aye, she thinks it’s daft, but she also wants to believe…

Denise Townsend

“It’s not crazy, lass. It’s magic…” And with that he used his considerable strength to pull her toward him. She cried out, crashing into his chest, and before she knew what had happened, he flung them both into the water. Instinctively, Meredith held her breath, swearing mentally as she felt them plummet into the sea. She tightened all her muscles, squeezing her eyes shut, as she braced herself for the freezing cold temperatures of the Atlantic waters. Instead, she found herself floating in what felt like…pleasant bathwater? Very slowly, she cracked one eye open, and then another. Dylan was holding her at arm’s length, his strong hands gripping her elbows, watching her intently. They were floating underwater, somehow far enough out to be fully submerged. Meredith stared in awe as his hair moved gently like dark, silken seaweed—evidence that they were, in fact, in the ocean. That thrill was so great that she never questioned how she could see anything in the dark of the night waters. Instead, she moved her own hands squeezing his upper arms gently as if to make sure that he was really there, that she could really feel, that this wasn’t a dream. Dylan moved his own hands to Meredith’s waist as she paddled her legs, looking down at them. Next, she let go of his forearms for just long enough to paddle her hands. Aye, he thought, enjoying her childlike reaction. It’s really wet, lass. She clutched his forearms again, and he knew she wanted to talk. And as he didn’t want to shock her any more than he already had, he took them both up to the surface. When their faces breached the waves, she gulped in air and then started babbling excitedly.

26


Ocean’s Touch

“How did you do that? How are we here? How is this possible? What did you do?” she gasped. It wasn’t easy to hear her over the din of the waves, but he could read her lips. “I told you, lass! It’s magic!” he shouted, smiling widely at her. “There’s no such thing as magic!” she replied, automatically. “Then, c’mon,” he said, laughingly, as he moved to take both her hands in his. “Let’s enjoy the not-magic.” She pulled a face at him, but kicked out her strong legs as he took them farther into the water. He’d already used a combination of his power and the currents to get them well into deep water, but now he’d let her help. He let go of her right hand, still keeping her left, and together they swam. First they paddled near to the surface, riding the waves. Meredith turned out to be a strong swimmer, so he needed to exert very little power to keep her afloat. And soon enough, she was happily plunging downward with him, taking longer and longer dives down into the night-black water. On such dives, Dylan constantly kept one eye and at least one hand on Meredith, watching for when she started to look like she needed to breathe. In fact, she didn’t need to—not when she was with him—but he was pretty sure he should roll out the surprises one by one, rather than hitting her with them all at once. It’s enough to get her in the brine, he thought, reveling in the joy that suffused Meredith’s lovely features. Her face is going to be sore from smiling so hard, so long. Of course, if Dylan had his way, after tonight Meredith would know other sweet aches from muscles long underused. He and Meredith continued to play, diving deep, then coming to the surface to ride the waves. He sensed she was growing a little tired, so he held her in his arms as he kept them afloat with their heads above the waves.


27

Denise Townsend

“This is amazing!” she shouted, still grinning as if she’d just won the lottery. “It pleases me that you enjoy it, lass,” he said, feeling her pleasure wash over him; the polar opposite of the loneliness and grief he’d continually felt from her before tonight. She laughed, arching her spine so her hair dipped back into the water. He couldn’t help but look down at her breasts, the wet fabric of her shirt clinging to their curves. Her erect nipples begged for his mouth. Then Dylan looked back to Meredith’s face to see she’d straightened her head and was watching him with wide, dark eyes. That look again—the hunger…a desire that matched his suddenly swamped her system. Before she could react either to his look or her own answering feelings, a particularly strong wave lifted them up, up, up…and then brought them crashing down again. Meredith, panicking at the surge of water suddenly roaring around her, instinctively tried to pull away from Dylan and make her own way to the surface. The moment her hands left his, everything changed. Suddenly the cold sliced through her, like a frozen steel scythe cutting through her flesh and bones. Everything also went black. Cut off from Dylan, she realized only their connection had allowed her to see with the clarity she had before. Now she was blind, freezing, and so terribly alone… Until strong hands seized her under her arms. With that first touch, everything went back to being warm and light, and the burning ache in her lungs disappeared.

28


Ocean’s Touch

Dylan pulled Meredith to the surface and then back to shore, cursing himself roundly for having ever let her go. Once back on the beach, Dylan swiftly laid his sealskin cloak out before laying Meredith carefully upon it. She had a strange look on her face, and her emotions were in such a snarl that, even with his powerful empathy, he couldn’t begin to untangle them. “I’m so sorry, lass,” he crooned, stroking a hand over her cheek, keeping in contact with her to keep her wet flesh warm in the cold fall air. “I shouldn’t have let you go. I’m so very sorry…” He felt a tingle of fear from her, as she undoubtedly remembered that moment in the cold darkness. But then her fear blossomed into something else, something that made his own limbs tingle. “That was magic,” Meredith said, her eyes staring up at him with absolute joy and trust. “That was really magic.” Dylan smiled at her, letting his hand trail down to rest on her upper arm. “I told you, lass. Now do you believe me?” In response, Meredith reached up her own right hand to stroke her fingers first over one high cheekbone, and then, tentatively, over his lips. The knot of her emotions was untangling on its own, and he felt things that surprised him… But she seemed as shocked as he when, suddenly, her hand buried itself into his hair to pull him down for a kiss. Meredith’s mouth was soft and warm, her breath feathering against his lips when she pulled away after just a second. He could feel her desire blossom into anxiety. What am I doing? she thought. This is madness…


29

Denise Townsend

Before her anxiety could transform into action, Dylan took charge. Letting his empathy rebound just enough to give her a taste of his own desire, so that she could really feel how much he wanted her, he claimed her mouth with his lips. The kiss was like nothing Meredith had ever experienced. Certainly not the fumbling smooches of her early boyfriends, nor Teddy’s sedate and mannerly tokens of affection. Dylan’s kiss was raw and hungry. His mouth seemed to feed at hers, his teeth gently biting at her tender lower lip, even as his mouth sucked away the gentle sting. And the sexiest thing about that moment was that Meredith knew, without a doubt, how much this gorgeous man wanted her. He wants me, she mused, feeling his desire as palpably as she felt the length of his cock hardening against her thigh. He just…wants me. It was being desired in so fierce and sexual a manner, which left Meredith dazed. In high school and college, she’d felt wanted by many of her dates and her few boyfriends, but she’d known that most of their desire for her was merely because she was female, not because she was Meredith. Any body would have done, in a pinch, and although they liked her, they liked the idea of sex even more. But then Teddy had come along, and he’d really seen her, and wanted her. He’d made it clear from the beginning, however, that he loved her for her practicality, her innate intelligence, and her common sense. He’d loved that she could be a partner to him, and she’d genuinely appreciated that trust and admiration. But he’d never wanted her body. Not really. So to have the same amount of recognition and desire that Teddy had given her mind given to her body by Dylan, floored her. I never thought I wanted this, she thought, as she felt her own lust for this dark stranger rising in a crescendo of need. I thought I was past this…

30


Ocean’s Touch

The sudden alacrity with which she returned Dylan’s kisses made Meredith realize that she certainly was not past physical desire, or the ability to appreciate another person’s need for her body. He tastes like the sea, she thought, as she lost herself in Dylan’s mouth. Dylan felt Meredith open to him, both physically and emotionally, and he moaned at the crescendo of need crashing through her soul. He backed off a second to stare deep into her lust-dark gaze, before smiling down at her. “Are you ready, lass?” he asked, already knowing her body’s answer. “For what?” she replied, dazed. “For this.” He started by brushing his lips against hers, tickling all those sensitive nerves in Meredith’s already kiss-swollen lips. Then he swept his tongue gently against her lower lip, asking for an invite. When her mouth opened, his tongue claimed hers as he deepened the kiss, indulging all his passion for her. Meredith sighed into his lips, at the same time reaching up to tangle her hands in his hair. More… she thought. Dylan, reading her need, moved his lower body, nudging her legs apart with his knees. Then he draped himself over her, pressing the length of his muscular frame into Meredith’s languid body. She responded by opening her thighs farther, cradling him with her pelvis. He could feel the heat of her even through her damp clothing. Still kissing her, Dylan ran his hands down Meredith’s neck, then her arms, then down the outside of her thighs. She shivered against him, her own hands clutching at his shoulders, then in his hair, as if she didn’t know what to do with herself.


31

Denise Townsend

She probably doesn’t, he realized, feeling an undercurrent of nervousness lurking beneath her desire. It’s like she’s never been with a man, but I ken that’s not true… Dylan ran his hand back up her body, as he began kissing down her neck. Then he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, placing a kiss on the end of her nose as his hand slipped under her sodden turtleneck. “How I want you, lass,” he murmured, kissing her gently. She trembled, kissing him back. But he withdrew again, to meet her eyes once more. “Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered. “But I’m…I haven’t…this isn’t me…” “Perhaps it should be,” Dylan replied, raking his hand up over her ribs to palm her bra-covered breast. “Perhaps you need a night of pleasure.” Meredith moaned, arching her back, as Dylan pushed up her shirt, lowering himself to kiss her soft belly. He’d wanted to be in that exact spot, and now he was, so he made the most of it. Smoothing his hands over her soft curves, he licked and nibbled at her flesh while she buried her hands in his dark hair. Then he kissed his way up the center of her belly, to her sternum, pulling her shirt up as he went. Meredith helped him tug it off, till she lay clad only in her admittedly rather practical brassiere and woolen tights. Yet still she took his breath away. Meanwhile, Meredith was lost in a rush of sensations. Whatever she was lying on was so soft she couldn’t feel a single stone underneath her, despite knowing the beach was all rocks. And the man who knelt above her, staring down at her like a starving man eyeing a feast, only increased her own hunger. When his hands again roved over her ribs, to her breasts, she pushed back any thoughts but those of her pleasure. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched me, she realized, feeling a curious sort of grief.

32


Ocean’s Touch

Dylan cupped Meredith’s breasts in his hands, pinching her nipples lightly through the fabric encasing them. When she moaned, arching her back, he moved his hands underneath her to get at her bra clasp. He undid it with a quick flick of his fingers—and maybe a little magic—then brushed the material aside. First letting his eyes gaze on those soft mounds tipped by perfectly erect little nipples, Dylan then gathered both plump sweets in his hands before lowering his mouth for a taste. Meredith’s pleasure washed over him, mingling with his own as he took first one nipple, and then the other, into his mouth. Sucking gently, making them even harder, he kept pulling back to admire his handiwork before lowering his dark head to suckle her again. When he brought his teeth into play, Meredith was already a lost woman. Nipping gently at her nipples, then licking at the sting, Dylan nibbled down the underside of each soft swell. Palming them one last time, as if he didn’t want to say good-bye, he finally let go in order to move down her long body. Kissing over her rounded belly, he pulled her tights just a little bit lower over her hips, spending a moment to lave his tongue over her hip bones. Meredith was drowning in her own sensations at that point, so he let her feel another wash of his pleasure at playing with her body. She raised her hips, helping him pull her tights down over her thighs. Dylan was surprised Meredith wore no panties, but not at all dismayed. He stopped fighting with her wet tights long enough to gaze on her sex, feeling another rush of need shoot through his swollen cock. Meredith’s thighs were soft and long, perfect for wrapping around his body. Her pubic hair was fuller than was currently popular, but still neatly trimmed. And, as he’d never liked grown women made up to look like little girls, he loved the contrast of her dark hair against the pale flesh of those delicious thighs.


33

Denise Townsend

With a sigh of longing, Dylan returned to his task. Even a man of his considerable talents and experience was apt to struggle a bit with divesting a woman of a pair of wet tights, so it took him a few minutes to wrestle Meredith into full nudity. Not that he didn’t enjoy every inch of the revelation process. And when she was naked, her knees pressed together modestly as she looked at him with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, he knew instinctively what she needed. Easing himself back up to her mouth, careful of her knees, he kissed her gently. “Tonight’s for you, lass. I won’t do anything you don’t enjoy, and I want nothing from you. Except your pleasure. Do you understand?” Only after Meredith nodded, still obviously a bit baffled, did Dylan move on. “So I want you to let yourself go for me. Let yourself be pleasured. I want you to moan for me…” And with that, Dylan inserted his hand between Meredith’s clenched knees. “I want you to soak yourself for me,” he said, running his fingertips up her thighs, parting her legs like water. “I want you to come for me,” he said, moving down her body as his hand found her slick heat. Meredith did, indeed, moan for him at his touch. “I want you to scream for me,” Dylan finished, as he parted her lips with gentle fingers, only to lower his face to the center of her need. Meredith did cry out at the first long lick of Dylan’s probing tongue. And then he did it again—a long, flat stroke all the way up her sex. And then he pushed her legs farther apart, only to prove that the third time really is charmed. Although this time his warm tongue traced all the way from the rosebud of her anus to her clit. And then stayed there.

34


Ocean’s Touch

Sucking her little clit into his mouth, he let one hand grip her hip as his other hand found her sex. Meredith moaned again, her fists clenching in whatever soft material she lay upon as his fingers found her wet passage. “Good girl,” she heard him whisper. “So wet for me…” He kept up a steady, sucking pressure on her clit as she felt one finger, then two, dip inside her. His fingers stretched her deliciously, and when he began pumping them, gently, she saw an extra layer of stars added to the ones already draping the night sky above her. “That’s it,” he murmured, feeling her cunt gush around his fingers. “Let yourself go.” Dylan added a third finger, sucking harder at Meredith’s clit. She trembled, her sex clenching hungrily on his fingers as he thrust them deeper, harder. His own cock ached, but he’d meant what he’d said. This night was for her. Meredith, meanwhile, was barely clinging to sanity. The feel of Dylan’s thick fingers stretching her, was almost too much. She felt so full, so taken, and they weren’t even having intercourse. She could hear the wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of her; she’d never known she could become so wet, so willing. So wanton. She could feel a tidal wave building inside her, but it was so strong she wasn’t sure it was an orgasm. She’d only ever experienced orgasm with another person once before, with one of her more skilled college lovers. And that hadn’t felt like this—so powerful as to be almost painful. But the tide kept coming in, and Dylan—sensing Meredith’s need—curled his fingertips up to stroke over her slick walls, searching out her G-spot. When his fingers found gold, Meredith sobbed with pleasure, her brain finally quieting to the insistent demands of her body.


35

Denise Townsend

Dylan felt Meredith’s cunt clutch at his fingers as another wash of wetness poured from her body. She was whimpering now, tossing her head on his sealskin, her hands clenching and unclenching. He knew she was close. “Come for me, lass,” he told her, raising his dark eyes to watch her pleasure. “Be a good girl, and come for me…” Meredith moaned as Dylan lowered his mouth back to her clit, flicking it with his tongue as his fingers continued plunging in and out of her soaking-wet sex. Then his other hand let go of her hip, and she felt its fingers move to pull her own moisture downward till her anus was as slick as her cunt. When she felt Dylan’s thick thumb push into her asshole, she cried out incoherently. So full, she thought. His mouth on her clit, his fingers inside both her holes, it was too much. The pleasure that had been building crashed through her system as she came, screaming his name to the moon and stars. Dylan smiled into her cunt as wetness poured over his fingers. He continued to work her sex, pulling more pleasure from her racked body, until he knew she could come no more. Ignoring the demands of his own hard cock, he kissed his way upwards until he found her mouth. Sharing the sweet taste of her sex through his kiss, Dylan allowed his empathic channels to soak up every drop of her satiation, at the same time letting her feel his own joy at giving her such pleasure. When he drew back from the kiss, Meredith was gazing at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her kiss-stung lips bowed in a sated little smile. For a second, he thought of those sweet lips wrapped around his hard length, but he’d made a promise. Tonight was for you, lass. He’d promised her, after all. But I make no promises about tomorrow, he thought, as he bent his mouth to hers for one last kiss.

36


Chapter Four

Meredith woke with her strange dream still resonant in her mind. It’s like I can still taste him, she thought blearily, blinking in the shadows of her wellcurtained bedroom. She stretched languorously, her mind lingering on the details of the dream. She could still feel his hands on her body, his mouth on her sex. Where did that come from, she thought, rolling over onto her stomach and burying her face in the pillows. It was so real… For a second, she wished that the man had been real. He had felt so real. But she’d woken up alone, in her own bedroom, and what had happened between her and the dream-Dylan could never have happened in real life. First of all, she thought, intelligent women don’t have sex with complete strangers just because they’re hot. Oh, and magical. Because, second of all, magic doesn’t exist. And finally, male models don’t roam the beaches of Maine, looking to make sweet love to lonely widows in turtlenecks. A long-forgotten part of Meredith’s brain that had been roused by her fantasy of Dylan mused on when, exactly, she became someone who wore turtlenecks. Meanwhile, the rest of her thoughts—despite her logical protestations of impossibility—couldn’t stop focusing on that damned dream. Everything he did to me, Meredith thought, feeling a shiver run down her spine. The way he touched me…the way he tasted me… Her only regret was that the dream hadn’t involved letting her reciprocate.

Denise Townsend

She smiled into her pillows, thinking of her dream lover’s body. He’d been naked when he’d made love to her, even though she’d never seen him take off his clothes. More proof it wasn’t real, she thought, strangely saddened. But she was still happy to distract herself by letting her mind remember every detail of his long, muscular form. He hadn’t been overly muscled, just lovely and thick. Indeed, everything about him had been thick, especially that gorgeous cock she’d only glimpsed. She wished her sleeping brain had given her more than just a peek. All that soft skin over rigid muscle…the wet tip… Meredith let her mind wander, a sexy stream-of-consciousness riff that indulged all the erotic longings her dream had brought out of her. She imagined stroking her hand down that long, hard length, even as she ran her own hand over her belly and between her legs. She pictured herself fondling his balls, even as her own hand parted her wet labia. Stroking him, hearing him moan, leaning down to taste that drop of moisture… Meredith closed her eyes, her finger moving in lazy circles over her clit. Sucking just that fat tip as he moaned for me, swirling my tongue around him… Meredith’s finger worked a little faster, imagining his taste, his smell. Taking him in deeper, moving my tongue against him, feeling his hands knot in my hair… Meredith spread her knees wider, giving herself better access to her clit as she pleasured herself. She could see herself, on her knees before Dylan, grasping his hips with both hands as she sucked his cock into her mouth, then drew back, sucking all the way along that hard length.

38


Ocean’s Touch

Her hips bucked, an orgasm already dancing at the gate after both her dream and now her waking fantasy. She pictured herself pulling him out of her mouth, only to lave her tongue over his balls, sucking first one, then the other into her mouth. His fingers in my hair, pulling tighter…tugging me up…my mouth back on his cock… He’d fuck her mouth, then. Not rough, but not gentle either. She’d look up at him, their eyes locked, as he thrust in and out between her lips… Meredith’s finger worked her clit as she felt her pleasure build from a dull ache in her pussy to a need that made her frig herself harder, wishing she had something with which to fill herself… I’d feel him grow frantic, his hands in my hair, my mouth full of his cock… And then she imagined his groans as his orgasm tore through him, his hot come filling her mouth… At the thought of tasting Dylan—of him releasing for her, into her— Meredith’s own orgasm ripped through her. She cried out into her pillows, the pleasure bowing her spine. Then she collapsed, spent and panting. Having indulged her body, her mind began to react. Gah, she thought. I’ve wasted the whole morning on a fantasy. Meredith wasn’t against masturbating; in fact, she did it quite often. But she always felt indulgent afterward, like she was giving into some antediluvian part of her brain that cared only for pleasure. So she swung her legs out of bed and stood, stretching out her strangely aching body. Walking to her en-suite bathroom, she realized just how sore she was. Like she’d run a marathon overnight.


39

Denise Townsend

Must have been tensing my muscles in my sleep, she thought, pausing by the head of the bed. Who knew erotic dreams could have that effect? She continued to walk toward her bathroom, but was distracted by an anomaly in her normally pin-neat bedroom. Why on earth did I leave my clothes lying there? Meredith wondered at seeing a pile of brown and green clothing lying on the carpet near her bedroom door. I must have really been out of it last night, she thought, walking to pick up her dirty clothes. Although that helps explain the dream. I was overtired, overstressed… But all thoughts of dreams and stress flew from her mind as her hand made contact with her clothing. The bundle was wet and heavy, as if it had been recently soaked. Meredith froze, before lifting the sodden pile slowly to her face. It smells of the sea, she realized, her heart pounding in her chest.

Meredith had no idea what to think about the wet clothes. She knew that last night had to be a dream—there’s no way she would do that with a stranger, let alone swim in the Atlantic using magic. It was ridiculous! What if I’m losing my mind? she wondered, for about the fortieth time, as she parked her car rather sloppily in front of a little art gallery in downtown Seal Harbor. You’re not losing your mind, she told herself. You were overtired last night. Wandered too close to the ocean and fell down. You got soaked, and chilled, and probably a touch of fever. Which explains the crazy dream. She shivered despite the warm sunshine of the fall afternoon. But it had been so real…

40


Ocean’s Touch

Shaking her head as if to clear it, Meredith stepped out of her car and walked up to the gallery. Pushing her way in through the front door, she smiled at the grey-haired proprietress—one of the local graund dames—and then automatically scanned the room for any other patrons. Oh no, she thought. That’s the last thing I need… The “last thing” in question looked up to catch her eyes on him, and he smiled broadly in response. As if on cue, she felt her breath whoosh out of her body as her knees trembled like a schoolgirl’s. Alexander Ladislaw was, possibly, the only person more inappropriate for her to lust after than mysterious dark strangers on beaches. He was a very rich man, having made a fortune in his twenties with a series of patented biotech inventions. The vast majority of America knew him from his Time cover as “The Man Who Built A Better Mousetrap,” but he had an entirely different reputation in Seal Harbor. Part of that reputation was based on the fact that Alex had abandoned his lucrative business career in the tech industry to pursue his real passion—painting. People couldn’t understand why anyone would give up making all that money, although Meredith now knew enough about finances to understand that, at this point, Alex’s money probably made itself on the stock market and through other investments. Nevertheless, Meredith couldn’t be completely naïve to the other aspects of Alexander’s reputation. Around the area, rumors abounded of Ladislaw’s dissolute lifestyle—the stream of women, the parties, the kink. In fact, locally he was known as “the Marquis,” after the Marquis de Sade. Meredith thought the nickname more than a little ridiculous, not least because there was a big difference between a playboy and a sexual sadist. And yet, even the term “playboy” struck Meredith as somehow wrong. There was something about Alexander that had always struck her as too serious


41

Denise Townsend

for such frivolous dismissals. She knew he was no monk, but neither could she imagine him surrounded by gaggles of girls in bunny costumes. He’s so intense, she thought, feeling like a rabbit being pursued by a raptor as he crossed the small gallery space to greet her. He’d be that intense with a lover… Where did that thought come from? she wondered, as she walked forward to greet the man in question, extending her hand to meet his for a shake. Alexander’s grip on her hand was firm—he always shook a woman’s hand the same way he did a man’s. It wasn’t aggressive or painful, but firm and strong—an acknowledgment of equality that she appreciated. His skin was pale, and his eerily green eyes crinkled in a smile. “Meredith,” he said, “it’s a pleasure to see you.” To her annoyance, she felt herself blush, although she knew she shouldn’t be surprised at her reaction. Ladislaw had always had that effect on her. Even Teddy had once commented on how nervous he made her, to her horror. “It’s a pleasure to see you too,” she said, and she meant it. There was something about him that she found almost absurdly attractive. Alex was a handsome man, with a long, patrician nose; a wide, sensual mouth; and slightly hooded eyes that could look either friendly or foreboding, depending on his mood. Today, a neatly trimmed goatee framed his lips. After a moment’s consideration, Meredith decided she liked his facial hair. It made him look even more mischievous, if that was possible. For that was the wonderful paradox of Alexander Ladislaw. On the one hand, he was one of the most brilliant and fiercely intellectual men she knew. On the other hand, he had an impish quality that she found irresistible. He was both Apollo and Dionysus, and if she was honest with herself, she’d always admired the way Alex never denied either of his two identities.

42


Ocean’s Touch

Even his style spoke of his two sides. A few years older than her, his very dark red hair had receded just enough to make him look even more serious and intellectual than he already did. But he wore it in a longish-style, just brushing his collar at the back, that told everyone he didn’t take himself too seriously. He always wore impeccably tailored clothing that was just the right combination of formal and relaxed. Everything about Alexander conspired to make him look like he belonged anywhere, from boardroom to bedroom. And that’s what she really found attractive about him. He radiated a calm confidence that was mesmerizing, while every movement he made somehow spoke of an innate sensuality. Physically, he was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and almost sinfully narrow hips. For a split second, she imagined all that smooth white skin against her own… “Are you looking for something to buy?” he asked, interrupting her reverie. “Sorry?” she asked, knowing full well she was blushing again. “I was just asking why you’d come along. If you were looking for something to buy.” “Oh, yes. Of course. Well, you know I enjoy art,” she replied. Actually, he knew very well that art was one of Meredith’s great passions, one she wasn’t able to indulge in nearly as much as she’d like. They’d talked extensively, almost every time they’d met at a function or a party, about the art world. Alex had been surprised to discover that not only did she have a lot of knowledge, she also knew many of the contemporary artists that were his own inspirations. She’d even let slip at a function only a few months ago that, in her dreams, she flew around the world attending the gallery openings of the most cutting-edge, controversial artists. In reality, however, he knew damned well she stayed home


43

Denise Townsend

to attend to her dead husband’s affairs, contenting herself with the folk art and tourist fare on show at their local galleries. In other words, Alex was fully aware he was pushing Meredith’s buttons by asking her if she was out to buy something. “Um…” She paused, undoubtedly gathering her diplomacy about her. He couldn’t help but focus on that lush little mouth of hers. “No, actually, I’m not buying. Today. But I like to see what’s out there…” “Of course,” he murmured. “Are you buying?” she asked, those perfect lips bowing in a small smile. He kept his own expression neutral. The fact was, he adored those tiny hints she gave that she enjoyed playing as much as he did. But they were so few and far between. Teddy repressed her like a one-man feminine mystique, Alex thought, irritated as ever at what that insufferable man had done to Meredith. I know they loved each other, he conceded. But his was the type of love that suffocates… “No. I’m not,” he said, dryly. “I was just in town mailing off some invitations, and decided to pop in.” With those words, Alex’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in concentration as he gave Meredith a long, hard look. She cocked her head at his scrutiny, trying not to feel naked under his gaze. “Yes?” she asked, uncomfortably. “You know I’ve been painting for a while now…” She nodded. “Yes. And you’ve been showing at some great galleries…” Her words trailed off as she realized she’d just acknowledged following his art career. His pursed lips became a small smile as he made that connection for himself.

44


Ocean’s Touch

“So, why don’t you show around here?” she blurted out, hoping to move past her interest in him. By expressing more interest in him, she thought, chagrined. He chuckled. “Yes, well, galleries around here don’t usually handle my sort of work. I don’t paint colorful shapes, or landscapes, or children with puppies,” he said, gesturing around to the walls covered in exactly what he’d just described. “I like my art a little more…confrontational.” The look on his face was so sensual and predatory when he said that last sentence that her heart actually skipped a beat. This is ridiculous. First dreams of sex with magical men on beaches; now practically swooning over Ladislaw, of all people. The day he’d go for a boring widow like me is the day someone like me would go for a cad like him. We are fire and ice. But fire melts ice, some deeper part of her crooned. And the resulting water puts out the fire, her brain snapped, in response. “But,” he said, “If you would like to see some of what I do, I’m hosting a private showing at my house before everything gets shipped to my exhibition in Rome. That’s what the invitations were for.” Her eyes widened. She’d heard about his “private showings”. They were rumored to be to Ladislaw what Xanadu was to Kublai Khan. Meredith didn’t know if she could handle the pleasure-dome aspect of one of Alex’s infamous showings. If the rumors are true, of course, she told herself, remembering—but trying not to dwell on—some of the details she’d heard in passing. Alex sensed Meredith’s unease, but he also sensed something else. That tiny parting of those soft lips; the darkening of her warm brown eyes as her pupils dilated. Arousal, he realized, feeling more like a kid at Christmas than should a man many were happy to label “Casanova”.


45

Denise Townsend

When Teddy Casaubon had brought home his new bride, Alex had been immediately attracted to her. She’d demonstrated both intelligence and cleverness, a combination he always adored. And there had been something about her open smile, the forwardness of her gaze, and the loose way she’d moved those long limbs that had spoken to him of a kindred spirit. It had been with a feeling akin to horror that he’d watched Teddy’s illness, combined with the insufferable man’s repressive “values” and his even more insufferable mother, gradually suck the life out of Meredith. And Teddy made sure to keep her shackled, even in death, Alex thought, with a surprising amount of bitterness. He didn’t know why, but the thought of Meredith had always made him strangely passionate. And illogical. Teddy wasn’t really that bad, he reminded himself in what had become a litany repeated far too often. And he did love his wife. He was just a giant brain, walking around in a shell he ignored, and he couldn’t imagine any other way to live. It had always struck Alex as poetic justice that the body Teddy had denied so assiduously had wasted away around him. But Alex also knew that in denying his own body, Teddy had denied Meredith hers. And that made Alex almost irrationally furious. Why do I care so much? he asked himself, feeling that familiar rage sweep through his system. If Teddy were still alive, Alex could have throttled him at that moment. Meredith was still busy figuring out where to rest her eyes—they kept darting from Alex’s green eyes, to the floor, to Alex’s long fingers, to the floor— when Alex repeated his invitation. “Please,” he said. “I would very much like to share my art with you. I think you’ll like it. And your opinion matters to me.”

46


Ocean’s Touch

Alex realized the truth of what he’d said only as it escaped his lips. And hearing that sincerity, that hint of something—was it pleading?—in his voice, made up Meredith’s mind for her. “Yes,” she said. “I would be honored to attend your showing.” The fiercely predatory, hungry look that Alex gave her before reeling in his expression both shocked and excited her. It reminded her of the look her dream lover, Dylan, had given her. She felt a shiver of some unnamable emotion arc up her spine. What, exactly, have I just gotten myself into? she thought.


47

Chapter Five

The sun had gone down hours before, and her beach was dark and chilly. Meanwhile, Meredith felt ridiculous, but she couldn’t stay away. It was a dream, she reminded herself, even as she remembered—so vividly!—the smell of Dylan’s sea-kissed skin, the taste of his insistent lips. Running into Alexander and seeing that strange glint in his eyes had only made her recollect her dream lover more intensely. Meredith—too full of nervous energy to sit in front of the fire she’d built— stood watching the waves, before she shut her eyes, remembering. His hands on my body…his fingers inside me…his flesh so pale against mine…. She opened her eyes, then shook her head. “Not pale,” she whispered. Alex is pale… She wondered what had thrown her so off kilter. Normally so complete on her own, so happy as an individual, she couldn’t stop thinking of both Dylan and Alex. What is wrong with me? she pleaded to the starry night, unsure where these cravings had come from, in a body that had been dormant for so long. Meredith had gone straight home after seeing Alex that afternoon, despite having other errands. Instead, she’d changed into her running clothes and had done an extra-long course—the sort she usually only ran when training for a 10K or a half marathon. But still it had felt like her body was on fire when she’d finished, and not with the usual mixture of endorphins engendered by running. So she’d capped off her cardio with a strenuous round of yoga, but again she’d

Ocean’s Touch

found herself forsaken by her desired calm. Instead, every deep stretch of her long thigh muscles had reminded her of other kinds of stretching; every ache in her buttocks as she’d raised herself in Down Dog had inspired her to picture other uses for such a position. It’s like I’m eighteen again, she thought disgustedly, stepping closer to the waves lapping her beach. But I’m not eighteen. I’m thirty-five. And a widow. Tears sprang up in Meredith’s eyes as she tried to remember Teddy’s warm calm, the way he’d always known exactly what she should do next. But all she could think of was the way Alex had looked at her…the way Dylan, in her dreams, had touched her… She took another step toward the water. “Not without me, lass,” she heard from behind her. “It’s only with me that you can swim.” Meredith felt her body freeze in shock, even as her blood ran straight to her head. That voice, she thought, afraid to turn around. Afraid he’ll actually be there? she wondered. Or afraid it’s just my imagination? Warm hands wrapped around her upper arms as warm breath found her ear. “I was hoping you would come to me,” said the voice. Dylan’s voice. “I’ve been dreaming of you, all the day,” he finished. Meredith shivered. With fear? With lust? She hadn’t the slightest. “You’re real,” she whispered. Dylan chuckled in her ear as his lips kissed her lobe gently. “As real as your sea,” he said, moving closer so she could feel his hard cock press against her back, through her clothes.


49

Denise Townsend

“But it was a dream,” was all she could say in response. His lips paused in their slow perusal of the shell of her ear. “I’m a dream, am I?” he asked, pressing that hard heat against her. “I would have sworn,” she whispered, snuggling her own ass tighter against his warm bulk. Dylan wasn’t surprised that Meredith’s ever so logical and practical brain had dismissed him as impossible. She’d been in a trancelike state when he’d walked her up to her room and helped her into bed. If he hadn’t been so careful not to use his power on her, he would have thought she was in what his people called “glamour-shock,” a vegetable-like state that befell some humans who’d been overexposed to fae magic. In point of fact, humans such as Meredith—so faithful to the “logic” of their science and reason—rarely needed glamour in the first place. They refused to believe magic existed, even if it was standing in front of them. Or kneeling between their legs. “Well, you’d have sworn wrong,” he said, brushing his lips down her neck with his words. When he’d finished, he sank his teeth, not entirely gently, into the soft flesh where her neck and shoulder connected. Meredith cried out, leaning back in his arms, her spine arching reflexively. Dylan moaned as her firm ass ground into his cock while he sucked the sting gently out of her neck. He turned her around in his arms. Dylan could still sense the confusion of her earlier emotions—a chaotic combination of desire, despair, and doubt. Her eyes, when he raised her chin to force her to meet his gaze, were so wild, so torn, he nearly regretted approaching her in the first place. But I felt your grief, he told her, silently. Your calm was but a mask. And masks must be lifted, he thought as he bent his lips to hers.

50


Ocean’s Touch

To his surprise, Meredith attacked his mouth. Her kisses were fervid, hungry—as if she’d found something she’d just realized she needed. Her eyes might speak to her mental confusion, but her body knew its decision. Dylan returned her kisses, lacing his fingers through her up-done hair, before he sought out the clip that contained it. After a few seconds of fiddling, he figured out how to release that glorious dark mass. Meredith moaned as he ran his fingers through her long locks, the sound deepening as he clutched at handfuls of her hair, pulling gently to force her head back and bare her neck to him. Kissing down her throat, pushing her damned turtleneck down with his chin as he did so, then kissing back up, Dylan let her feel his own lust, even as he opened himself up to hers. Meredith clutched at Dylan’s shoulders, that intense need washing over her. She also felt the odd sensation that some of that emotion was his, making her feel completely, entirely wanted. Why did this stranger’s lust for her body mean so much to her? Dylan paused, raising his head to gaze into Meredith’s dark eyes. She was confused again, although still full of desire. “Why do you want me?” she whispered, her voice small. He frowned. Sometimes he hated the human world, where women like Meredith had to ask such questions. That said, he wasn’t sure how to respond without sounding trite. There was only one way to make her understand… “Will you let me show you?” he asked. “How?” “I want to make love to you.” Meredith’s face flushed. “But we hardly know each other.”


51

Denise Townsend

“We know each other better than you think,” he replied, letting his thumb slide over her cheekbone. She shivered, turning her face toward his hand as if she would kiss his palm. But she stopped herself. “What about protection?” she asked. “I’m not on the pill.” He smiled. “I’ve got magic for that. Can you feel I tell the truth?” While he’d spoken, Dylan had let her “feel” his words. It wasn’t an emotional manipulation, just him letting her feel he spoke the truth. She paused, assessing what she’d just experienced. Always careful, lass, he thought, although that was one of the things he liked about her. “Yes,” she said eventually. “I believe you.” And she did. She knew it would sound silly had she tried to explain it, but she knew he wasn’t lying to her. “So?” he asked, running his thumb down her cheek to slide it over her lips. Her only answer was to lock her eyes on his and suck his thumb gently into her mouth, flicking her tongue along it. Dylan closed his eyes, almost purring with satisfaction, letting his lust burn even brighter. When he opened them, she was watching him with a pleased expression, as if she were only now beginning to understand her particular power over him. He gently took back his hand, and then, with a practiced motion, took off his sealskin cloak and spread it on the rocks of her beach in front of her fire. His skin’s magic would make it a fine, warm bed for the both of them, but he wanted the light of the fire to see her by. Meanwhile, Meredith was soaking up the sight of his naked frame. The firelight’s flickering revealed that massive body, casting gorgeous shadows over his muscles. His skin was a shade darker than hers—sunkissed and warm—

52


Ocean’s Touch

made even more burnished and exotic by the firelight. His raw masculine beauty was so great, in fact, that she never really questioned why he’d been wearing some kind of short-furred cloak…and nothing else. When he turned back to her, she drew in a breath at the sight of his thick, heavy erection. Her cunt ached with need and her mouth actually watered—he was so lovely. Without thinking, she took a step toward him. If it was possible, Dylan grew even harder, seeing Meredith’s eyes locked on his cock, an expression of pure desire writ across her face. He would have loved to gaze equally longingly on her body, but he was going to have to divest her of her damned uniform—including those horrid tights—first. He let her come to him, kissing her on the forehead as he reached for the bottom of her sweater. She let him pull it over her head, and then her turtleneck followed. She undid the buttons of her own skirt, letting it fall to pool around her ankles so she stood in front of him clothed only in tights, boots, and bra. He helped her down onto his sealskin, after which he took a moment to enjoy the sight of her long-limbed form sprawled out before him, tights and all. He couldn’t help but stroke his cock as she shifted to lie back on her elbows, her breasts jutting out as her thighs parted just slightly. Meredith gasped at the sight of Dylan’s fist wrapped around his hard cock, pumping it slowly. She’d never seen a man masturbate before, and the sight made her flush with heat as she felt her cunt pulse with desire. “Give me your foot,” Dylan growled, the look on Meredith’s face making him need her naked, now. When Meredith raised her booted leg to him, he pulled one off, then repeated with the other. Her boots joined the rest of her clothes in a heap by the side of his skin.


53

Denise Townsend

Dylan knelt between Meredith’s knees, noting the swiftness with which they parted for him with a pleased growl. Dry tights came off faster than her soaked tights had, and soon enough she was wearing only a bra. Again he paused to look at her—the long, white legs with that tempting shadow at their nexus, leading up to that soft belly Dylan couldn’t resist. He bowed his head to nip at it gently, before moving up to her bra-covered breasts. “Off,” he commanded, biting at the offending fabric. Meredith giggled before she sat up enough to get her hands behind her to undo the clasp. Suddenly unaccountably shy, she lowered her eyes as she pulled the bra off her naked breasts, only to have Dylan’s touch beneath her chin raise her eyes back to his. “Gorgeous,” Dylan murmured, in a way that let her know he meant all of her, before he lowered his lips to hers. With that kiss, he took the rest of her down gently, so that they were lying on his sealskin. The feel of Dylan’s body on hers was almost too much for Meredith. She suddenly wanted to kiss him and touch him everywhere, but his heavy weight pinned her down. She made due with opening her legs to him, wrapping her thighs around his as she began running her hands up his ribs, down his back, and over his broad shoulders—basically anywhere she could touch. Feeling Meredith’s lust, and the touch of those slender fingers all over his body, Dylan’s kisses grew more heated. He fed off Meredith’s mouth, sucking on her lips before nipping them gently, his own hands twined in her hair. “I could kiss you all day,” he whispered to her as he stroked one hand down her cheek. Meredith made an inarticulate sound—half, assenting moan; half, protest. While she undoubtedly appreciated the sentiment, he knew she wanted more.

54


Ocean’s Touch

So he moved his hand to cup her breast as he kissed down her neck, finding her other breast with his lips. He suckled her hungrily, massaging her other breast’s soft flesh in his other hand as he did so. Then he switched, making sure to play fair, causing her to gasp as his mouth found her other, already primed nipple. Meredith was writhing under him, lost in a sea of sensation. And when his free hand moved from her breast to seek out her wet slit, she cried out into the night. His fingers were confident, moving her lips apart to find the source of her wetness. Dipping into her cunt just slightly, Dylan brought his wet fingers up to caress her clit, which was already sitting up and begging for attention. Rubbing her gently, he kissed down her chest and belly until his mouth was lined up with her cunt. Then he moved his fingers to suck hungrily at her, even as he filled her with first one, then two, then three fingers. Stretched as full as she’d ever been, Meredith clawed at the soft material beneath her as her whole body bowed with pleasure. It was with a sense of shock that she felt an orgasm rush through her, taking her by surprise with both its suddenness and intensity. Dylan felt Meredith’s cunt clutch his fingers, releasing a flood of sweet wetness as she cried out with a series of soft, mewling gasps. When her cunt had ceased clenching his fingers and her gasps had quieted, he knew she was as ready for him as she was ever going to be. And so he raised himself above her, finding her lips with his as he brushed the broad tip of his cock against her slick opening. Meredith kissed and licked at his lips hungrily, loving the taste of herself on him, as she lifted her hips to his. She knew he was big, but she trusted him not to hurt her. And as Dylan began to push inside her, she felt sensations in her cunt unlike anything she’d ever felt before.


55

Denise Townsend

Dylan watched Meredith’s face as he penetrated her, loving how everything she felt registered over her features. Her lips were parted, and she was mewling again as he finally hilted himself inside her, only to begin withdrawing gently. Her pussy sucked at him, causing him to shiver, and she opened her eyes to gaze into his. “Dylan,” she moaned, clenching her cunt around even tighter. “Fuck,” he whispered, almost losing control and coming too soon. “You’re so tight,” he told her instead, after he’d regained control. Then he finished pulling out of her, only to push his way in all over again. Meredith groaned, lifting her hips to meet his, already wanting more. So Dylan began pumping her gently at first, but then harder as she urged him on. Meanwhile, she was moving underneath him—partly out of reflex and instinct, but partly as if she were discovering for the first time what felt good to her. He let her experiment, sometimes helping her discover a new sensation by moving her hips just a fraction of an inch, or moving his own hips in a way that made her move hers differently. He loved that Meredith brought all of her natural curiosity to sex, although he was a bit surprised at her lack of inhibition. That said, her assertiveness also made sense. She wasn’t a woman who did anything by halves. Evidenced by her running her nails down his back lightly, as she told him what she wanted next. “Can I be on top?” she murmured. His only answer was a hoarse yes, as he used his supernatural strength to flip them both over neatly, without ever slipping out of her tight heat. She shifted around so her knees were in the right position, then she began riding him—slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace as she grew more comfortable.

56


Ocean’s Touch

Meredith loved the sensation of him underneath her, filling her as she ground down on him. His eyes moved from her breasts to her face, as his hands clutched her hips. The look of lust in his eyes made her cunt clutch at him, and she threw back her head when he moved his hand so his big thumb found her clit. Rubbing her as she rode him, she felt another orgasm building. She gasped, looking down at him. “You’re going to make me come,” she murmured, hoarsely. “I want you to come for me,” he told her. “Come for me, lass.” And so she did, her pussy tight on his cock as she shuddered above him. He kept his thumb’s pressure on her clit until she moved his hand away, the sensation too much. She flopped forward, so her weight rested on her hands, her cunt still spasming weakly around him as she panted. His hands found her breasts, kneading them gently as he gave her time to recover. Finally, she opened her eyes to meet his. “You still haven’t come yet?” she asked. “I’m busy enjoying yers,” he replied, tweaking her nipple gently. She shivered in response, then gave him a feral little smile. Then she moved off him, only to push his knees apart so she could kneel between them. “Well, I’m just going to have to do something to remedy this situation…” And with that, she dove down, sucking him into her mouth. She could taste her own wetness, as well as the fluid dripping from the tip of his cock. Moaning, she took as much of him into her mouth as she could, loving the taste of them combined. Dylan echoed her moan, bucking his hips, feeling his own orgasm mounting. What Meredith lacked in oral technique, she made up for in sheer


57

Denise Townsend

enthusiasm, rubbing her lips and tongue against him almost worshipfully. When she dipped down to run her tongue over his balls, it was almost too much. “No,” he growled, pulling her up to kiss her. “I want to come inside you.” A shudder of lust went through her at his words and she kissed him back fiercely, reveling in how much she wanted him. Meredith moved so that she was slightly in front of Dylan, dropping to her hands and knees. She pushed her shoulders down to his sealskin, looking back at him over her shoulder coyly as she presented her ripe backside. Dylan bit back a groan as she met his eyes, her hand reaching back to play with her sweet little pussy. “Fuck me,” she told him, and he was more than happy to oblige. Moving forward to line his throbbing cock up with her dripping hole, he rammed into her roughly. She groaned in response, the fingers of one hand finding her clit as she braced herself wit her other arm. He rode her hard, feeling her pussy releasing even more wetness as she found her own rhythm with her fingers. He moved his hand to her hips, pulling her back to him as he thrust inside her, wanting her to feel every inch of him. And Meredith did. She felt unbelievably full as his thick cock rubbed over previously neglected places, giving her a whole new set of sensations. She could feel another orgasm building, despite having come twice already. Hearing Meredith’s hoarse pants, Dylan raised his thumb to his lips, getting it wet. Then he ran it over the little rosebud of her ass, tempting him from right in front of his gaze. He did this again, then a third time, until she was ready. Meredith knew she was lost when she felt Dylan’s thumb on her asshole. Getting a good grip on the material she lay on with her free hand, she buried her face in his sealskin, moaning when he finally pushed his thumb gently inside

58


Ocean’s Touch

her. The dueling sensations—her finger on her clit, his cock in her pussy, his thumb in her ass—made her cry out, stifled as it was in the skin. Feeling Meredith shuddering around him, knowing she was about to come, made Dylan’s own orgasm rise in his balls. Pumping her harder, clutching at her hip with one hand while he fucked her ass with the other, Dylan’s breath tore from him in a gasp. “Come for me,” he commanded. “Come for me now.” And she did, soaking his cock as her pussy sucked sweetly at him. Hearing her stifled groans, he felt his own orgasm overtake him. Withdrawing his thumb from her ass, he covered her body with his own as he pumped his seed into her, her spasming cunt milking him of every last drop. Then they collapsed together, laughing, on his sealskin. They kissed each other, still laughing—she, feeling a strange feeling of exultation at her body’s response to him, and he, joyous at her happiness. After they’d kissed and cuddled for a while, listening to the sound of the ocean waves and gazing up at the stars, Dylan’s hand again found her breasts. They made love again and again that night, until both of them were sated. Then they did it one last time, as Meredith liked being thorough.


59

Chapter Six

Meredith awoke to the unfamiliar smell of breakfast cooking. It was faint and far away, but definitely breakfast. A fundamentally private person, any help she employed always arrived after lunch. Therefore her breakfast—a healthy affair of fresh fruit, yogurt, and granola—was always consumed alone. Which explains why she lay there confused, still half-asleep, until she remembered Dylan. He’s real, she thought, as her mind wakened entirely. He’s real, and he can swim in the ocean. He apparently lives on my beach. And he’s in my kitchen. Meredith rolled over to stare at her ceiling, a labyrinthine knot of emotions unwinding inside her stomach. On the one hand, flashes of last night’s unbelievable pleasure kept swimming through her mind like schooling fish. Even now, she could smell him on her skin, in her bed. An enticing smell of seawater and sex. They’d gone swimming again, after everything, in an ocean that should have frozen her to death in minutes. But she’d been warm and safe with him. What is he? she wondered. And what on earth is he doing here? What kind of man hangs out on beaches and seduces women? One that is both magical and ridiculously good in the sack? came a snarky rejoinder from a part of her mind that she’d managed to keep silent for years. She ignored the “magic” suggestion. Despite everything that had happened with Dylan, Meredith was too practical and too world-weary to

Ocean’s Touch

believe in magic. How he did it was a mystery, but there had to be a logical explanation for how they swam in the ocean. Just as there’s a logical explanation for all those orgasms, came the dry voice of her logic. He’s too good in the sack. He’s probably a gigolo. Oh God, Meredith thought. What if he’s a gigolo? He’s not a gigolo, said her gut, refusing to believe that the man whom she’d trusted that much the night before could up and morph into some dime-store villain. But if he isn’t a gigolo, came that dry voice again, what does he think about you? You had sex with a virtual stranger. You don’t even know his last name. I don’t even know his last name, she realized. Exactly, said the dry voice. He made you come with as much ease as other men tie their shoes. Who needs last names? came the long-quiet voice, growing stronger as it was used. He was amazing, Meredith admitted to herself. For a gigolo, snapped the dry voice, even more dryly. “This is ridiculous,” she said, trying to shush all the conversations going on in her head. “I need to get down there and face the music. If he’s a gigolo, I’ll deal with it. If he’s not… Well, I’ll deal with that too.” And with that, she stormed out of bed, made short work of her morning toilette—including an almost-angry shower to wash off the scent of him—and dressed in a purposely unsexy outfit of loose yoga pants and a wraparound yoga top over a tank. No-nonsense, rather frumpy indoor/outdoor slippers completed the look. She was ready.


61

Denise Townsend

Yet still her heart beat furiously in her chest as she walked the absurdly long way from her bedroom to her kitchen. All around her was Teddy—all his things, all his family heirlooms, and all his family photos. And I’ve invited a gigolo into our kitchen, she thought, her mouth going dry as she slowly pushed open the kitchen door… To find Dylan, wearing what looked like a cloak and an apron, frying something delicious smelling on the stove. She blinked her eyes, and suddenly he was wearing only an apron and normal pajama pants, although where he’d gotten them, she couldn’t imagine. They certainly weren’t Teddy’s. And I could’ve sworn he was wearing a cloak… “Good mornin, lass,” Dylan said, a bright smile splitting his suntanned cheeks. “Did you sleep well?” “I did, thank you. And you?” she asked, falling back on her plentiful reserves of politeness to quiet her nerves. “Aye, lass. Now sit down. Breakfast is almost ready.” Meredith walked like a stranger into her own kitchen, noting that Dylan had set the table with two settings of her favorite morning china and had already laid out butter and jam. There was even a pot of coffee ready for her, along with milk and sugar. While Meredith fixed herself a cup, she watched as Dylan cracked two eggs into the skillet. She knew what else was in there—the distinctive smell told her it was one of her favorite breakfast treats, and something she enjoyed only rarely. He expertly flipped over what looked like pancakes in another skillet, did some seasoning of the contents of the original skillet, gave both a good shimmy to make sure nothing was sticking, and then began plating up. When he’d finished, Dylan walked over to her, looking ridiculously adorable in an apron stretched over his broad, naked chest.

62


Ocean’s Touch

He looks as delicious as the food smells, she thought, before quashing her desire quickly. Gigolo! she reminded herself, working hard not to lick her lips, either at him or the food, as he set her plate in front of her then took his own place to her right side. “Kippers,” she breathed. She’d known it was coming, but still. “Aye. My favorite. Kippers and eggs will give you strength after our long night,” he said, winking at her. Please don’t ask for money, was all she could think. “And…pancakes?” she asked, keeping a lid on her suspicions. “Scotch pancakes. Taste them. They’re a bit different.” She copied his slathering of the pancakes in butter and jam, and then tasted hers a split second after he bit into his. “Mmm,” she moaned, unable to help herself. They really were wonderful—to be honest, not that much different from an American pancake, but absolutely delicious. Seeing her reaction, Dylan stopped chewing long enough to give her a cheeky smile and a hungry look, before reaching a hand out to wipe away an errant blob of jam stuck to her lip. She herself paused, her pancake raised halfway to her mouth, as she watched him lick the jam off his finger, his eyes still hot on hers. Terrified that she practically spasmed in lust at Dylan’s actions, Meredith gracefully jammed the rest of the pancake in her mouth, distracting herself and her body by chewing it thoroughly, if rather noisily. “So, Dylan,” she said when she’d washed the pancake down with a draught of coffee. “You’re quite a good cook.”


63

Denise Townsend

“Thank you,” he replied, polishing off his own pancake with far more dignity. “I do like to dabble when I get the chance.” “Do you not,” she said, trying to figure out how to suss his lifestyle with subtlety, “get the chance to cook that often?” “No,” he said. “It’s hard cooking where I live.” Meredith frowned. Ever since she’d sat down with Dylan across the table, the terrible doubt that she’d felt in her bedroom had eased. There was something about him that she simply trusted. And yet, still her brain worked overtime, trying to find something wrong with her current contentment. And just where is cooking hard to accomplish? she wondered. Gigolo school, whispered the nasty voice. Or prison… Oh dear God. Prison? Dylan, meanwhile, was inundated with Meredith’s mixed emotions. He could feel her lust for him, and he could tell that at some level she recognized his honesty, and that his intentions toward her were good. But he could also sense a swirling miasma of doubt and anxiety. To be fair, he thought to himself, I did pick her up on a beach. And Meredith isn’t the pick-her-up-on-a-beach sort of woman… So he reached forward, putting his hand over hers where it rested on the table. “It’s not because I’ve got some evil secret, Meredith. I’m not here to harm you in any way. I just want to be your friend.” He watched as Meredith blushed, and pulled her hand away to pick up her cutlery. She fiddled with her food a bit—breaking the yolk so the bright yellow liquid flowed over the oily skin of the fish—before she took a bite. He did the same, watching her as they both ate. He also watched as she came to some decision, putting down her fork and knife to turn to him again.

64


Ocean’s Touch

Dylan loved watching Meredith decide things. It turned him on immensely. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to appear…anxious toward you. But I know nothing about you, as embarrassing as that is to me.” Dylan smiled at her, his eyes warm and amused. “Why does that embarrass you? How could you know more?” “But that’s just it,” she said, averting her eyes. “I hardly know you. Yet we’ve had sex. I’m not…” “I know you’re no slattern,” he said, chuckling as he moved his chair closer to hers. “And I know we’ve not been acquainted for long. But be honest with yourself. Do you truly feel I’m a stranger?” She thought about what he asked. “No,” Meredith whispered. “And have you felt you’ve known some people forever, but that you’ve never understood them at all?” “Yes,” she answered, thinking of dozens of examples. “So stop beating up on yourself. I’m not someone you know too much about, true. But I’m no stranger. Now finish your breakfast,” he said, scooting her food toward her like a protective mother hen. “We’ll talk when your belly’s full.” She couldn’t help but smile as she did as he’d commanded. When she’d finished, she helped him clean up; then they returned to sit at the table together, a last mug of coffee steaming in both of their hands. “Now, as I can feel you’re fit to bursting, ask me anything you like, Mer.” “Where do you live?” she blurted out the question that had been on her tongue throughout breakfast. He laughed. “I’ve told you, basically. You know where I live.” Meredith frowned. “No, I don’t.”


65

Denise Townsend

“The sea,” he said, his voice strong and reasonable, just as he’d said everything that day. Despite the fact that what he was currently saying was insane. “What do you mean, ‘the sea’?“ she asked, trying to remain equally reasonable. “Like…a boat?” “No, not a boat.” “Then what, Dylan. A house on the sea, like mine?” “No, lass. You ken the truth. I live in the sea proper.” “You can’t live in the sea. That’s ridiculous,” she said, drawing away from him and clutching her coffee like she was considering using the mug as a weapon. Dylan sighed. Mortals, he thought. He’d seen it a hundred times. He could do something obviously “impossible” by human standards, and still they’d find a way to convince themselves it hadn’t happened, or had been something else entirely. Why can’t they just believe? he wondered, shaking his head. Although seeing Meredith straighten her spine even more at his obvious resignation made him remember why he adored humans so much. Instead of answering her, he stood. Meredith, in turn, got an even better grip on her coffee cup. She watched as he untied her apron, folding it rather messily before laying it on the island behind him. And then he…changed. Instead of the large, handsome man he’d been, he was still large, maybe even more handsome…but definitely not a normal man. Not a human, Meredith realized, nearly spilling her coffee when her death grip on her mug loosened from surprise.

66


Ocean’s Touch

This Dylan was still man-shaped—long, muscular legs, the same thick cock she’d enjoyed last night, an equally well-muscled chest. But this Dylan’s hair—instead of curly and brown—flowed up from his head in a dark, iron-gray crown, as if he were floating underwater even now. His eyes, too, had gone from normal, human brown to entirely jet-black. Their inky weight surveyed her from a face that was Dylan’s, but not—his features gone fierce and fey—his chin slightly more pointed, his cheekbones more arched, his lips slightly fuller and an alluring shade of cherry red. “What are you?” she breathed. Meredith knew she should be frightened, but she felt nothing more than the same mixture of kindness and curiosity flowing off the being that she’d always felt flowing off Dylan. Indeed, he felt like Dylan, even though he looked like Dylan-gone-manga. “A selkie,” he said simply. “But they’re…” she said, trailing off as she realized how ridiculous it would be to think this fierce being in front of her could change into a seal, of all things. Instead of laughing at her, all Dylan did was twitch his shoulders, throwing forward his sealskin cloak before giving her a cheeky wink. “You’re really…?” she asked, unable to finish her question. “Aye, lass. Would you like to see?” She gulped. Did she want to see? Here, in Teddy’s kitchen, that had never seen anything more magical than an ice sculpture carved off site by someone else? “Yes,” Meredith said eventually. He smiled at her, pulling his cloak up and around him until only his face peeped through. Then he drew it tighter still till, with an audible pop and a shivering of the air, Dylan was gone.


67

Denise Townsend

And where his feet had been lay a huge, sweet-faced seal, lying on his back and arching his spine to stare forward at her with his enormous black eyes. Meredith stood, mute and staring, for a few seconds before she finally took a few tentative steps forward. The seal blinked at her lazily, and she could have sworn it was grinning. When she stood next to Dylan’s seal, she lowered herself down into a crouch, reaching out one tentative hand. Shivering as her fingertips met unbelievably warm, soft fur, she ran her fingers lightly up and down the seal’s side. Then she let both her hands fall on the soft skin as hot tears burned down her cheeks. She sobbed, rubbing her hands up and down the silky, oddly muscular shape in front of her. Meredith was crying so hard, in fact, that she didn’t even notice when the air around Dylan shimmered again, and another little pop sounded in the air. Instead of soft fur, her hands clenched at Dylan’s hard abdomen as he sat up enough to wrap his hands around her upper arms. “Meredith, lass, shh…what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling her close. “It’s really magic,” she sobbed into his neck, knowing she must look a mess but not caring. “You’re really magic…” And with those words, Dylan felt Meredith’s long pent-up desire and frustration bleed out of her as her hands on his torso once again began to stroke his flesh. Knowing what she needed, he leaned back on his elbows, giving her full access to his body. Meredith shifted so that she was kneeling next to him, her hands and eyes hungrily roving over his body. Dylan could feel how attracted she was to him, yes, but he knew that this moment was about more than him. This was about Meredith, reclaiming what she’d lost—reclaiming not only her rights as a

68


Ocean’s Touch

woman, including those of her woman’s body, but also her creativity, her imagination, and that lost bit of her that had once believed in magic. Meredith’s tears had ceased, but wetness still glowed on her cheeks as she lowered her mouth to his stomach, licking over the hard bands of muscle revealed by his current position. Her hands coasted up and along his ribs as she kissed her way down his belly, and he spread his legs obligingly as she moved to kneel between them. His hands found her hair as her warm breath caressed his cock just a second before her tongue lapped at him gently, tentatively. He moaned his encouragement, running the fingers of one hand through her hair before tickling her earlobe gently. Meredith squirmed, looking up at him with her massive brown eyes. No longer dull, they shone with a combination of just-shed tears and desire. He moaned as she took his hard cock into her warm mouth. His head fall back, enjoying the sensations of the soft, wet pull of her mouth, her tongue lapping at him, learning his size and shape. He let her play until she grew more confident, one hand moving to stroke his balls as the other pumped the base of his shaft. “That’s it, lass,” he groaned, staring down at the beautiful sight of her mouth wrapped around his cock, trying to make the moment last. Even after their marathon of debauchery the night before, the vision of her kneeling between his legs on her own kitchen floor was almost too much. “You’re gonna make me come, Mer,” he said, the hand in her hair gently tugging her mouth away from him. But she refused, sucking him harder into her mouth, her hand working him more swiftly, as his gentle tugs on her hair turned to an open-palmed caress.


69

Denise Townsend

After a few more long, luxuriant bobs up and down his cock, she gave the head one last, luxurious swirl with her tongue before she raised her mouth off him. “I want you to come for me,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “The way you made me come for you. I want to taste you.” His cock grew impossibly hard at her words, knowing full well she’d probably never uttered anything like that in her life. The way she’d opened herself to him…it was sexier, even, then the way she’d opened her legs. And so he let her go, watching her lovely dark head moving deliciously up and down on his cock. Soon, however, he couldn’t help himself, and began very gently adjusting her speed with his hand buried in her hair, while moving his own hips so that he fucked her mouth. She moaned around him, loving the feeling of his hand in her hair, her lips wrapped around his cock, knowing that he was losing control and using her for his own pleasure. She did her best to suck at the hard shaft pistoning in and out of her mouth, using her tongue as much as she could, wanting to feel him spend for her. Dylan knew he was close, knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from coming—her mouth was too warm, too tight, too sweet. “I’m gonna come, lass,” he growled, feeling his orgasm rising in his balls. Her only response was to suck him deeper and harder, her eyes locked on his as if she wanted to see his pleasure when he came. Which he did, his back arching and his hand clenched in her hair, low, rough groans pouring out of him as he came in long spurts of pleasure. He felt her mouth working, swallowing all of him, her tongue still caressing his turgid length.

70


Ocean’s Touch

When she she’d finished, swallowing every last drop of him, Meredith pulled away. Dylan didn’t collapse on the floor, however, demanding water and a sandwich, for the fey were made of sterner stuff than that. Instead Dylan ran his fingers over her lips, as if thanking them for their hard work. Then the selkie stood, pulling her with him. Within seconds he’d stripped her of her yoga gear—thanking his lucky stars when he didn’t find a pair of tights under her loose pants—and had backed her against the breakfast table, reaching an arm behind her to shove aside their mugs, roughly. “My turn,” he warned, his lips bowed in a predatory smile, as he lifted her up so she sprawled before him, more delicious than any buffet. Spreading her legs with rough alacrity, he watched her face as he slid his fingers into her warm wetness. “You’re soaked,” he purred, bringing his fingers to his lips for a taste. Breathless, Meredith watched him suck his fingers into his mouth, tasting her. Then his hand was back at her cunt, two thick fingers dipping deeper into her as his thumb found her clit. She moaned, her nails scrabbling at the hard wood of the breakfast table, knowing she wouldn’t last long with such treatment. When she felt the fingers of his other hand moving her own wetness down to her asshole, she shuddered. “I want to fuck you here,” he said, pushing his middle finger deep inside her ass. She groaned, feeling so full. “Not now,” he said, working her clit with his thumb as he withdrew his finger from her tight anus. “But soon,” he finished, pushing into her again, this time with two fingers. “Oh my God,” she whispered, feeling her climax building in her belly as his fingers worked her cunt, her ass, and her clit. All she could think of was his cock replacing his fingers, inside her ass.


71

Denise Townsend

Dylan keeping his eyes on Meredith, enjoyed watching her pleasure. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her muscles clenched around his fingers, a look of almost painful rapture suffusing her lovely features. Another wash of wetness soaked his fingers, and he smiled. “Come for me, lass. Let yourself go. Come for me…” She held her breath, urging on her own orgasm, as he pumped her with his fingers. “Come for me…” he commanded again. She released her breath with a shuddering cry, only to suck up another long draught of oxygen. Her eyes on his were pleading. He leaned farther over her, his fingers plunging in deeper, as he curled the fingers in her cunt just enough to stroke her inner walls. Seeking out the tough pad of her deepest pleasure with his clever fingers, he stared deep into her eyes. “I said, come for me,” Dylan told Meredith, his voice fierce. “Now.” And with that, she broke—the pleasure of her orgasm washing over her, suffusing her cheeks and breasts with color. As she groaned, her spine arching, he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly as he withdrew his fingers from her ass, but kept working her pussy until she stopped shuddering around him. Only then did his fingers still, as he enjoyed the aftershocks wringing her tight channel. Meredith pulled him down into a fierce hug, gently touching his crazy, inhumanly wild, iron hair. And then she laughed, long and hard and joyfully. For she wasn’t sure which she found more amusing in its shock value— the fact that he was a selkie or the fact that she, Teddy’s widow, had just done something other than eat a meal on her kitchen table.

72


Ocean’s Touch

Who says a leopard can’t change her spots, she thought, pulling Dylan up for another laughing kiss.


73

Chapter Seven

“Do you agree with the changes, Meredith,” Ron repeated gently. “What?” Meredith asked, snapping her eyes up from where they’d been resting on her white legal pad. It was note-free—not normal behavior for her in a business meeting of such importance. “Do you agree we can go ahead with these changes?” Meredith looked around the table. Ron’s face showed concern, while the expressions of his partners—two older men and one middle-aged woman—were carefully neutral. Teddy’s elderly mother, however, was by no means so polite. Her face looked upon Meredith with a combination of irritation, contempt, and that something else that Meredith could never quite put a finger on. “If you’re not going to pay attention, you shouldn’t attend these meetings,” Mrs. Casaubon said, her voice as brittle and sour as her expression. “Perhaps you have other more important things to do. Like spend my dear Teddy’s money. Take it out of the mouths of orphans and waste it on fripperies.” Meredith heard Mrs. Casaubon’s words through a haze. The fact was, Meredith heard such accusations a million times already. No matter how frugal she was personally, Mrs. Casaubon had decided long ago that Meredith was a gold digger, and nothing would change the old woman’s mind. If Meredith didn’t spend money, say, on the house, then she was “letting dear Teddy’s home go to ruin”. If she did, she was “living like a queen”. If she didn’t buy a new dress for a function, she was “not taking Teddy’s affairs seriously”. If she did

Ocean’s Touch

buy a new dress, she was “wasting money on fripperies”. Meredith seemed forever linked to fripperies in Mrs. Casaubon’s mind. After hearing Teddy’s mother’s slanders for so long, they rarely affected Meredith anymore. Not to mention, Meredith’s thoughts were busy on other things—mostly Dylan-related. It’s not that she didn’t want to be at the meeting— and this particular charity was one close to her heart—but she couldn’t stop thinking about her morning with her selkie lover. “I’m sorry,” Meredith said. “I had a…a long night. Not much sleep. Please, can you repeat the proposed changes?” So Ron did with a patient smile. The changes involved tweaking the application process for microloans to women in Asia, to make the process both easier and more accessible. Meredith agreed with three of the proposed changes, but she saw a problem with the fourth. “Allowing a relative to appear at the bank in the place of the loan holder defeats the purpose,” she said. Meredith had spent nearly a year studying this subject and had even picked the brain of the Nobel Prize-winning creator of the idea of microloans. Of all Teddy’s endless charities, this was one she found genuinely fascinating, and one she felt she fully understood. Quite a few of Teddy’s other charities she felt a lot less capable of running. But he asked you to, she reminded herself. He wanted you, and only you. Meredith was snapped out of her own thoughts by Teddy’s mother’s tutting, although everyone at the table ignored her, including Meredith. “Part of the purpose of these loans is to make women financially responsible for themselves and to enhance women’s public profile as holders of economic power. It’s fine for them to have chaperones, if the country’s mores require such things, but the women can’t be replaced by male relatives as the


75

Denise Townsend

public face of the money holder,” Meredith said firmly to Ron and his partners, ignoring the grimace Mrs. Casaubon was giving her. Ron nodded. “That’s what our experts said, but there was still pressure to include this measure from local governments and religious leaders.” “I’m sure there was,” Meredith said dryly. “I don’t understand why you have to interfere, Meredith,” Mrs. Casaubon said from the other end of the table, ignoring Ron’s words. “If the women want their husbands to go to the bank for them, why can’t they?” Meredith took a deep breath, reminding herself that Teddy’s mother knew nothing about the region in question or about microloans or realistically about any gender-related issues past 1945. So why is she talking? Meredith couldn’t help but ask herself. Everyone around the table ignored Mrs. Casaubon. Meredith didn’t like to go that route, because she knew it drove Teddy’s mother crazy. But there were times when they had to. Meredith had neither the time nor the patience to explain the real world to the elderly woman, and Meredith knew Mrs. Casaubon wouldn’t listen anyway. “Is that all for today?” Meredith asked Ron, instead of engaging with Teddy’s mother. “Yes. We’ll have to rearrange the wording to articulate our stance against the fourth proposal, but everything else has been dealt with, so that should be it.” Ron smiled warmly at her as he stood, along with his partners. Meredith stood as well, although Mrs. Casaubon remained seated. She shook the partners’ hands as they filed out of the room, but Ron stayed. He dropped his voice so that Mrs. Casaubon couldn’t hear.

76


Ocean’s Touch

“I know you say you’re tired, but I have to say, you look wonderful today, Meredith. The best I’ve seen you look in months. Have you done something?” he asked. “Done something?” she questioned guiltily in response. “To your hair? Or perhaps a new workout or something.” Meredith thought carefully before answering, “I did do a new workout this morning, actually. That must be it.” “Well, keep it up,” Ron said, clasping her hand in both of his. “You’re absolutely glowing. Grace and I worry about you, you know.” Meredith smiled at the thought of Ron and his wife discussing her health. “Thank you. I know you do. Give my love to Grace.” Ron nodded, squeezing her hand in his, and then left the boardroom. Meredith looked over to where Teddy’s mother sat waiting. Like a rattlesnake, Meredith thought as she went to help the elderly woman up from her chair. Mrs. Casaubon harrumphed, but allowed Meredith to help her to her feet. Then Meredith ensconced her mother-in-law in the embrace of her walker before helping her to the door. “You can stop fussing,” Mrs. Casaubon said overly loud once they were at the main exit of Ron’s suite of offices. Her caretaker, a heavyset Latina woman named Inma, gave Meredith a sympathetic smile as Meredith handed over her mother-in-law. “Next time you come,” the old woman said, peering up imperiously at Meredith, “make sure you bring your brain. I may not know what Teddy saw in you, but you made my boy a promise. You owe him more than ill-attention to his great work.”


77

Denise Townsend

And with that, Mrs. Casaubon heaved herself through the doors while Inma shook her head at Meredith as if to ask, “Why do you put up with her?” Meredith sighed. That she didn’t have to put up with Teddy’s mother was well known to her since it had been rubbed in by countless friends, acquaintances, and even some strangers who saw how badly the old harridan treated Meredith. After all, Teddy had left Meredith both the house and her very own trust fund, which was maintained independently of all his charities. The work she did for those had nothing to do with the amount of money she earned or had inherited. But he’d left the running of his foundations to her, and had charged her, especially, with overseeing them. And she knew it would break Mrs. Casaubon’s heart to be cut out of their running entirely, so Meredith dealt with her mother-in-law as best she could. After Teddy’s mother had caught an elevator downstairs, Meredith finally left Ron’s office suite. Then she went and hit the Down button, chewing on her lip as she thought about her promises to Teddy, about his mother and her everincreasing asperity, and the fact that Meredith had a selkie lover waiting for her at her house. What am I going to do with him? she wondered, for about the fourth time that morning. I can tell you what to do with him, that sly, freshly-awakened part of her brain suggested, then proceeded to dazzle the rest of her brain with a series of unadulterated, if very adult, images. The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Immersed in her fantasies, Meredith took a step forward without looking. Only to run flush into the man stepping off the elevator she was trying to enter.

78


Ocean’s Touch

Ladislaw smiled when he saw Meredith as the elevator doors slid open, but her gaze was turned inward. He took a step forward to greet her, not expecting the normally careful woman to come flying forward to crash into him. He chuckled. “Well, hello there, Meredith,” he said as she looked up, startled. To his surprise, her face was flushed and her eyes, a little glassy. He knew that look. Desire, he thought, and he felt his cock harden even though he knew she probably wasn’t thinking about him. But still, to see Meredith Casaubon with a look of lust in her eyes… Alex suddenly wanted, very much, to tear open that horrible cardigan and rip off that god-awful turtleneck. If he did so, he’d reveal the full breasts that he knew, from seeing her on the running trails around Seal Harbor, were lurking under her frumpy clothing. She only ever wore anything remotely revealing while working out, a fact that had helped keep Ladislaw fit and trim throughout the long Maine winter. “Alex,” Meredith breathed, her brown eyes meeting his green. She felt the knot of sexual tension that had been building in her belly nearly explode upon seeing the artist. She couldn’t, however, read the look in those inscrutable jade eyes. For a split second, she imagined herself leaning in to kiss him, just to see how he’d react. Instead, she took a hasty step back, pulling her cardigan closer around her before smoothing her turtleneck higher up under chin. Ladislaw followed her out of the elevator, stepping rather too close to her for her current liking. Or, to be more accurate, she liked him being that close, which disturbed her. Deeply. First Dylan. Now Alex? What am I becoming?


79

Denise Townsend

But a small voice in her acknowledged the truth. First Alex, it whispered, now Dylan. For she recognized now the real meaning of the nervousness, the anticipation, the strange feeling of queasiness and hunger that she’d always felt around Ladislaw. She recognized it because it was the same way she felt around her selkie lover. She wanted Alex. She always had. She’d ignored that fact—sublimated it, buried it, denied it—and had convinced herself it was both ridiculous and naïve to feel something, anything, for the man in front of her. But this time, upon seeing Alex so soon after leaving Dylan’s presence, she couldn’t deny the truth. What she felt around Dylan was what she’d always felt around Alex. And those feelings were lust, desire, and something more… A curiosity deep enough that it frightened her. For Meredith wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew the selkie legends; she knew that Dylan’s first mistress would always be the sea. Just as she knew that Ladislaw was not a man for settling down. He could never give her the emotional connection that she craved. Neither man is for me, she thought. At least, not in anything more than body. But why can’t that be enough? another part of her whispered. “Alex,” she said with a firmer tone to her voice as she hushed her unsettling thoughts. “How are you?” “I’m well. And you?” he asked, his green eyes so intent it felt like they were absorbing her. “I’m fine. Tired,” she added, hoping to excuse her clumsiness in bumping into him. “Everything all right?” he asked, genuine concern lacing his question. “Oh, yes. I just finished up a meeting with Teddy’s estate lawyers.” “Was the Dragon in attendance?”

80


Ocean’s Touch

Meredith couldn’t help it; she let slip a giggle before carefully schooling her features. “If you mean Teddy’s mother, then yes.” “Is she still going after you about spending Teddy’s money?” Meredith’s sigh was her only answer. Alex grinned, but with little humor. “She’s an evil old witch, always has been. You’ve a right to your money. You earned every penny you inherited, taking care of Teddy the way you did. And now working like a dog for his estate…” Alex only just managed to curb his tongue when he saw the expression on Meredith’s face. She looked genuinely disturbed—but whether it was at the truth of his words or at him for saying them, he couldn’t tell. “Anyway,” he amended, using a gentler tone. “You’ve a right to spend any money you wish on yourself. You should pamper yourself. You deserve it.” She laughed again, but it was a well-trained social laugh. “I’ll think about it,” she said, although he knew she wouldn’t. She was probably planning on going home, exercising herself into a stupor, and then sleeping. Not going to happen, he thought. Not if I can do anything about it. “Well, at least buy yourself a new dress,” Alex told Meredith. “A new dress?” She asked nonplussed. “Yes. For my party tonight,” he reminded her. He could tell she’d forgotten. “Oh,” she said. “Oh.” “Yes,” he said. “I expect to see you there, young lady. And I expect to see you wearing something gorgeous. Something clingy and absurd and entirely too expensive.” Meredith giggled again as he continued. He considered himself a lucky man. He’d not heard her laugh in a very, very long time, and today he’d made her giggle twice. “I don’t know,” she started, but he cut her off.


81

Denise Townsend

“I won’t take no for an answer—not to attending my party, and not to buying yourself something audacious.” Alex took out his wallet and rooted around inside it. “Here,” he said, handing her a business card as he replaced his wallet in his back pocket. “This is for my friend Wendy, who owns a gorgeous boutique over in Bar Harbor. I expect you to visit her within the hour and spend atrocious amounts of money. Scandalous amounts of money. I want you dripping in…what does the Dragon call them? Fripperies?” Meredith laughed outright then, and Alex grinned in response. “Fripperies, yes. I want you positively dripping in fripperies.” He took a step closer, touching the back of her hand that clutched her briefcase very gently with the tips of his fingers. Meredith bit back a gasp. For while she knew his fingers were actually cool, she felt as if she’d been branded. “And I want to see you tonight,” he concluded, latching his green eyes onto hers. Meredith panicked. The heat in that gaze, the promise—she didn’t know how to react. She heard herself blurt out, from what felt like a mile away, “Can I bring someone?” Alex frowned for just a split second, before recovering his smile—or a semblance of his smile. “I’m sure that would be fine. Who is it?” he asked nonchalantly. “A friend,” she said, blushing. “Named Dylan.” “Dylan,” was all that Alex replied. “Yes, Dylan.” “Of course you can bring a date,” Alex said, taking a step back and tugging gently on the lapels of his coat. “It’s not…” she started, unsure what she wanted to say. “He’s not…” she tried again. “Thank you,” she finished, giving up.

82


Ocean’s Touch

“So I’ll see you tonight?” Alex asked. “Yes,” Meredith replied, “I’ll see you tonight.” “And you promise to wear something new?” His mischievous smile was back, but it wasn’t as strong as it had been before. Nonetheless, she was happy to see it. “Yes,” she said, kicking herself as she did, but still wanting to please him. “I’ll wear something new.” He stage-glowered at her, and she chuckled. “I promise.” And with that, they took their leave of each other. Alex went in to do his own business with Ron, and Meredith went home.

“You look troubled, lass?” Dylan said, upon Meredith’s arrival. He was where she knew he’d be—sitting on her beach. He stood when he saw her approaching, and she noticed he was wearing his sealskin and nothing else. A fact that made her mouth water. Without thinking, she went to him, and let him put his arms around her and stroke her hair. “What happened, Mer?” he asked again. After a moment, she spoke into his chest. “I have to go to a party,” she said the way other people say they have to enter a war zone. “And?” he asked, confused at her apprehension over something that should be enjoyable. Instead of answering, she peered up at him. “Will you go with me?” she asked. “Of course,” he replied, feeling a complex knot of emotions roiling inside her. He’d have to tease that knot out over the rest of the day.


83

Denise Townsend

“And I have to buy a new dress,” she said, showing him Ladislaw’s card, which she’d kept clenched in her hand almost the entire ride home. To her surprise, Dylan’s face lit up. He took a step back and clapped his hands together in joy. “We get to go shopping?” he asked with all the enthusiasm of a kid at Christmas. She raised her eyebrows, unable to respond. But her brain was whirring. Who knew selkies were so metrosexual?

84


Chapter Eight

“Alex sent you?” Wendy asked, cocking her head at Meredith. “Yes,” Meredith replied. “I’m…” “You’re Meredith Casaubon,” Wendy interrupted, extending her hand. It was petite and immaculately groomed, just like the rest of her. But Wendy’s handshake was also firm and warm, and despite her obviously expensive taste she had the air of someone friendly and open. “And I’m Wendy Wheeler,” she said, then added, “I had no idea you were a friend of Alex’s.” Meredith couldn’t help but smile at Wendy’s curiosity, which the woman was doing a very poor job of containing. “My husband and Alex were…” she paused, trying to think of the correct adjective for Teddy and Alex’s relationship. The two men had always had a great deal of respect for each other’s careers and minds, but absolute disrespect for the other’s chosen lifestyle. Rivals? she thought, before dismissing that word as too dramatic. Frenemies? “Colleagues,” she said, choosing a more polite, if less honest, truth. “I was sorry to hear of your husband’s death,” Wendy said, ratcheting down her curiosity with visible effort. “He was a generous man.” Meredith smiled. “Thank you. And yes, he was.” “Well,” Wendy said, shifting into sales mode. “What can I help you with today?”

Denise Townsend

“I, er, we need something for Alex’s opening tonight,” Meredith said. “She needs a new dress,” came Dylan’s smooth, deep voice from behind her. He’d hung back to let Meredith introduce herself to Wendy, but he stepped up as he spoke, extending a hand to Wendy as he did so. Wendy’s mouth dropped open at the site of Dylan, who’d clothed himself in a glamour of jeans and a dark woolen sweater that was just tight enough to show off that big body without looking cheap. She only just managed to return his polite greeting without choking on her own tongue. Meredith couldn’t help but smile at the elegant businesswoman’s discomfiture. To be honest, Meredith was glad to see it wasn’t only she whom Dylan impacted so powerfully. “I know what I’ll be wearing. But Mer needs something new—something that will show off her beauty,” Dylan finished. Meredith gulped. Dylan might be content wearing magic and a smile, but she was hoping to get out of Wendy’s boutique with something a bit more concealing. Perhaps a burka with some tasteful sequins to accent her eye screen. Wendy only just managed to tear her eyes away from Dylan and focus back on Meredith. “Wonderful,” Wendy said a little breathlessly. “Would you like to start on the inside or the outside?” “I’m sorry?” Meredith asked, having no idea what Wendy meant by “inside or outside”. Wendy smirked knowingly. “Did Alex tell you anything about my shop?” she asked. “No,” Meredith replied. “He just recommended it as a place I might find a dress.”

86


Ocean’s Touch

“Well, we do something a little special here. We specialize in the full evening’s ensemble. Meaning we try to dress you from the inside out, and from top to bottom.” “And what does that mean?” asked Meredith, growing suspicious. She had noticed an awful lot of lingerie on display throughout the store, much of it paired with what looked like a complementary outfit. “It means that we sell full looks. So we sell the under things, the outer things, the shoes, and the accessories. That way, ladies don’t have to drive into Portland to shop for the extras. You can find everything you need right here.” Meredith frowned. “But I won’t need any…underthings,” she told Wendy quite firmly. “Oh yes, she will,” Dylan said with equal force, but also with an undertone of laughter. He also physically switched sides to stand with Wendy. Turncoat, Meredith thought, knowing this was not going to be an easy battle. “Wonderful,” Wendy said. “I have some absolutely beautiful basques that came in just today, and with your gorgeous figure…” Meredith felt herself turn red. “No, really,” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. My underwear is perfectly serviceable.” Both Wendy and Dylan made a face like Meredith had actually just said, “My underwear is made of cat feces.” “Well,” Wendy said, taking Meredith by the elbow to steer her farther into the store. “Let’s try on some dresses, and see just how serviceable your underwear is then.” Dylan chuckled evilly, as Meredith shot him a furious glance. She was beginning to think she’d been set up.


87

Denise Townsend

“Maybe if I just, um, tuck it in right here…and move the strap so it’s, um…” Meredith pleaded, her fingers tugging furiously at the absolutely impossible, if sensible, white cotton of her bra. Wendy shook her head, obviously working very hard to keep her expression professional. “It’s not going to work,” she said. “The bra you’re wearing absolutely ruins the line of your dress. And I can see your, er, underpants clearly outlined.” Meredith knew why Wendy had stumbled over the word underpants. The sad fact was that Meredith’s sensible underwear—the pair she wore especially to Wendy’s shop because it was the pair she always wore under dresses—looked like a pair of dungarees when outlined under the lovely fabrics of the dresses she’d tried on. Dylan smirked from where he sat in the enormous dressing room, watching her tug at her bra as if she were wrestling with an attacker. Meredith shot him a foul look and then took a deep breath. After which, she paused to assess herself in the mirror. She tried to ignore her underwear and her anxiety, and just see herself I have to admit, she thought, the dress is gorgeous. It was a rich, complex shade of blue-green and made of lovely thick satin that fell over her curves like water. The color brought out the chocolate in her hair and her eyes, and made her pale skin glow with an ethereal sheen. It was a simple surplice cut—an elegant style that perfectly showed off Meredith’s hardwon figure without showing too much. It was, however, low enough in both back and front to make any sort of serviceable underwear impossible. Coaxing Meredith into the garment, meanwhile, had taken the sort of effort one usually needs to talk an alcoholic relative into rehab. She’d kept trying,

88


Ocean’s Touch

and failing, to find something sensible in Wendy’s shop, ignoring everything Wendy or Dylan had suggested. Finally, they’d manhandled Meredith into a dressing room, where Dylan had stripped her down to her skivvies only to abscond with her clothing. Wendy had then appeared with an armful of dresses, which Dylan had told Meredith she had to try on before she’d get her own clothes back. They’d all been horrifyingly thin and revealing to Meredith, even though she could also recognize that she was being ridiculous. In reality, the dresses were elegant and au courant, but that was the problem. I don’t wear things like this. She thought fondly of her favorite black dress that covered her from neck to ankle in a swathe of thick black velvet. But you should, came that sly voice, inviting her to turn around and look at her backside. So she did. And, except for the visible panty lines and the thick cotton strap of her bra bisecting her back, she had to admit she looked good. Dylan watched Meredith study herself and saw the moment she stopped thinking of herself as “Meredith, Teddy’s widow” and began seeing “Meredith, individual”. She’d turned around to check herself out from behind, and the slow smile that spread over her face pleased him. Before I leave, he thought, she’ll see herself truly. It’s all he wanted for her really. She’d been conditioned by all these different forces to see herself as everyone, and everything, else’s—as Teddy’s, as his estate’s, as his family’s, as his charity’s. But meanwhile, there was Meredith, the woman, who’d nearly been crushed by the weight of all those alien identities. He didn’t want her to forget her dead husband, but he also wanted her to have her own life again.


89

Denise Townsend

And actually live it, he thought, watching as Meredith very slowly raised her arms behind her back to undo her bra strap. Then he watched as she shimmied the bra off from underneath the dress. She dropped it on the floor before looking first at him and then into the mirror. Meredith ran her hands down her arms, then trailed her fingers down her own neck, as if wondering where her turtleneck had gone. She took a step back, her hands going to her hips where they smoothed over the lines of her enormous underpants. “Okay,” Meredith said, as if rallying herself before turning to Wendy. “What have you got that’s not sensible?” Dylan only barely managed not to cheer.

Meredith stepped gingerly from the car, her hired driver helping her before he passed her hand to Dylan. She used her other to clutch her long coat tighter around her. The truth was, now that they were away from her bedroom, Meredith felt naked. Alone with Dylan in her house, she’d loved getting ready. She’d shaved her legs and arranged her hair and makeup with more care than she’d taken in years. Then she’d gone into her bedroom, where Dylan had been waiting with her clothes. Her selkie lover had helped her into the gorgeous lingerie she’d bought— the black, thigh-high stockings with their lace tops; the scandalously tiny thong panties made of satin and the same lace as the stocking tops; and, finally, the matching satin-and-lace garter belt to which his nimble fingers attached the stockings.

90


Ocean’s Touch

The only item that went untouched was the bottle of rich, expensive erotic oil that Wendy had gifted the couple. Not that Dylan didn’t already have plans for that oil, but those plans would have to wait. In the end, both Wendy and Dylan had agreed that Meredith didn’t need a bra with the dress. In a daze at the shop, Meredith had agreed. And when Dylan had helped drape the dress down her body, her nipples had hardened like pearls at the feel of the soft, cool satin against her skin. She’d felt like a goddess when he’d turned her around to look at herself in the mirror. But now, outside of her bedroom and outside of the car, she felt exposed and vulnerable. “You look gorgeous,” Dylan said, wanting to ameliorate the anxiety he could feel emanating from her in waves. Meredith’s eyes were huge in her face. “Are you sure it’s not too much?” “It’s more than you’re used to,” he said, acknowledging her bravery in trying a style so different from that which she’d grown accustomed. “But it’s by no means too much. It’s going to be perfect, you’ll see.” Meredith nodded, but her fingers still clutched Dylan’s as they walked toward Alex’s front door, and then through. Dylan, meanwhile, wondered at the other emotion he could feel. It lurked underneath her nervousness, and it surprised him. For Meredith was genuinely terrified of the party and of making any sort of grand entrance. Yet there it was— an absolutely contradictory emotion floating, luminescent underneath the fear. The emotion was anticipation. And Dylan wondered what lay behind those massive entry doors that had Meredith so very, very eager.

“The new medium?” said a curiously distant voice.


91

Denise Townsend

“What?” Alex managed to mumble, his mouth gone dry and the rest of his attention riveted on his front door. “You were telling us about your new medium,” repeated the voice patiently. But Alex was already walking away, unable to think or see past the vision stepping shyly as a doe over his threshold. She clutched her coat around her, appearing reluctant to take it off and hand it to the uniformed girl asking for it. But when she final slipped off the long, dark evening coat, a flood of lust coursed through Alex’s body. Meredith? he wondered, almost incapable of believing that the vision in front of him was the woman commonly known as “Teddy Casaubon’s widow”. This woman was all long limbs and pale flesh, set off by a perfectly cut, perfectly teal dress. She looked around with wide eyes, scanning the crowd as if afraid they’d turn on her. And when those wide eyes met his, Alex knew it was Meredith. Even across the expanse of his massive foyer, where he was making his guests linger with champagne and canapés before he threw open the doors to the rooms he used as his personal galleries, he recognized those eyes. Their intensity, their liquid beauty—they could only belong to Meredith. Alex made his way through the crowd, trying to remember to be polite to everyone who wanted his attention but finding it difficult. There was only one person there in whose attention he was interested. Meredith, meanwhile, was trying to keep calm. She recognized only a few faces in this crowd, and they were the merest of acquaintances. The majority of the guests, she assumed, were out-of-towners flown in especially for Alex’s opening. Dylan had slipped away to help the girl with their coats and to find

92


Ocean’s Touch

them champagne—she craved a drop of liquid courage. But once her selkie lover had left her side, Meredith only felt more conspicuous and embarrassed. This was a mistake, she thought, looking around rather desperately for someone—anyone—with whom to talk. And that’s when she saw Alex. His tall form was making its way to her, his eyes latched on hers. The fierce look in those always-intense green orbs riveted her to the spot. And yet, from the heat flushing through her body, she was equally aware of her own visceral hunger for Alex’s beautiful, arrogant body. Who, exactly, is the predator? she wondered, her belly squeezed tight with what she now admitted to herself was desire. Meredith’s drew herself up as she took a deep breath, stepping forward to meet the only man who made her forget absolutely everything else. Including the selkie, Dylan, who watched from the shadows as the woman whose body he’d devoured earlier that day stepped eagerly into the arms of another man.


93

Chapter Nine

Meredith tried to keep the hug she gave Alex casual, but she knew her hands lingered overlong on his upper arms. Similarly, while Alex’s lips seemed quick to find her cheek, they were equally long in leaving her smooth skin. “You came,” Alex said a little breathlessly. “I promised I would,” Meredith replied. “And you look gorgeous.” Alex‘s voice was overly husky with those words, and he cleared his throat self-consciously. “Thank you. And I mean that. Your friend Wendy worked magic,” Meredith said, looking down and blushing. “You were always beautiful, Meredith,” Alex said. “Now you just look beautiful in a different way.” “Please, call me Merry,” Meredith said without thinking. When Alex looked inordinately pleased at her words, she didn’t bother to ask herself why she’d made the strange request. “Merry, it is. I didn’t know you went by a nickname?” Alex half stated, half asked. “I haven’t,” she said. “Not for a while. But I used to.” “Well, it’s as lovely a name as you are in that dress,” Alex said, falling back on his natural charm to cover the discomfiture he felt around Meredith. No, not Meredith, he thought. She’s Merry.

Ocean’s Touch

Meredith smiled, but it was a frank smile that acknowledged she knew he was playing “Charming Alex,” and that, while she appreciated the attempt, he didn’t need to do so with her. Such smiles were why Alex had always liked Meredith. It could be exhausting being Alexander Ladislaw, something which she seemed to understand. They’d always been able to interact without the social tap dancing everyone else expected of him. “You really do look amazing,” he said in a voice that was less slick and more honest. She bowed her head graciously at his compliment, before smiling up at him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said. “I’m thrilled you came. I wondered if you would.” “I told you. I promised.” “I hope you’re not here just because of that. I hope you want to be here.” “Yes,” Meredith replied, smiling. “I very much want to be here. You know how I love art, and I’m very much looking forward to seeing yours. I’ve heard nothing but great things about your exhibitions.” “You studied art history, didn’t you?” Alex asked. “Yes,” Meredith said, “for my BA and for my doctorate. That’s how I met Teddy.” “I remember. That’s what we talked about at your engagement party. You told me you wanted to open a gallery.” Meredith blushed at Alex’s reminding her of her naïve dreams. “Yes, well, that was a long time ago.” “In the grand scheme of things, not that long,” Alex said, wanting to push her. “And I don’t think there’s a statute of limitations on dreams.” Meredith frowned. “No, but…”


95

Denise Townsend

“Champagne?” Alex asked, interrupting Meredith before she could go off on some long-winded excuse about why she lived like a spinster hermit. A master strategist, Alex’s elegant mind was unconsciously planting seeds in Meredith’s imagination that he couldn’t allow her to stomp on. As often happened when he was hatching a new scheme, Alex wasn’t consciously plotting. Rather, he could see the hint of something big and bold on the horizon, but he wasn’t sure quite what it was yet. So he went along with his brain, allowing its cunning to guide him. But Alexander had to acknowledge that seeing Meredith tonight had tipped something for him. Suddenly, he knew how much he wanted her, always had wanted her. He’d avoided it for as long as he possibly could, in what he hoped had been time for Teddy’s ghostly hold on Meredith to weaken. Like any skilled hunter, he knew to wait till his prey was ready. She’d been entirely closed off before—trapped in her world of guilt, misery, and obeisance to Teddy’s unreasonable deathbed demands. Alex had recognized her intractability and had waited. But the woman in front of him now—the one who’d introduced herself as “Merry” and wore a dress that flowed along her body like seawater—was different. Something tiny but important had changed in her demeanor. It was as if she’d unbuttoned just a single, telling button. And Alex fully intended to undo the rest of those buttons sometime soon. Dylan watched Meredith greet the handsome, red-haired man with the long, aquiline nose and the wide, sensual mouth. The selkie could sense she was still nervous, but that anticipation he’d felt coming off her earlier had peaked when she’d seen the man. The anticipation had then quickly given way to waves

96


Ocean’s Touch

of desire so profound that the selkie was surprised they weren’t visible, even to the humans. Dylan closed his eyes, tasting deeper of Meredith’s feelings. Desire, he thought, as he’d known. But also respect. Admiration. Genuine…affection? She could love this man very easily, Dylan realized. If she doesn’t already. But before Dylan let himself get too carried away, he shut his eyes and sampled the man, tasting his emotions for Meredith. Lust to equal hers. Much affection. Huge respect. He…cherishes her. He went deeper into the man’s emotions. Loneliness. He has many companions and has enjoyed them. But now he wants more. Something he can call his own… Dylan opened his eyes, giving the redheaded stranger a hard look as the selkie checked and rechecked the man’s feelings for Meredith. Dylan didn’t want to make a mistake before he took action. Only after his third scan came up trumps did Dylan finally allow himself to react to the fact that the man wanted Meredith as much as she wanted the man. Dylan grinned hugely, his ancient brain coming up with its own strategies and plots. He watched, eagle-eyed, as the handsome stranger looked around as if realizing he’d been ignoring his own party. He made his excuses to Meredith and walked to the top of his foyer stairs, near the massive double doors. Dylan returned to Meredith. She greeted him a little breathlessly, blushing. He could feel her embarrassment, and knew she felt guilty for wanting Alex when she was with him. It was a very human response, one that Dylan thought sweetly, touchingly mortal.


97

Denise Townsend

He took her hand as the man introduced himself as Alexander Ladislaw, welcomed his guests for coming, and then threw open the doors behind him before leading his guests into his gallery space. Meredith looked up at Dylan with expectant eyes, the faintest hint of a guilty blush still lurking on her cheeks. If she’d known what Dylan was really thinking of her red-haired friend, Meredith would be blushing for an entirely different reason.

“Beautiful,” Meredith breathed, her eyes large as she took in the huge canvases sprawled around the small room. This wing of Alex’s house had been built especially for his gallery showings. As in an art museum, there were many rambling, small rooms, each containing paintings that were linked thematically. Unlike most art museums, however, these rooms weren’t stark and white, but lushly, decadently decorated. Couches, divans, and chaise lounges were tucked into corners or sprawled in the middle of the little rooms. Cushions were scattered everywhere. Lavish flocked wallpaper in rich jewel tones covered the walls behind the canvases, and thick rugs covered the gothic stone flooring. Most of the lighting was done so it set off the paintings, leaving the rest of the room dripping in shadow, with candles peppered about to add ambience and the rich scent of beeswax. Rooms led off rooms, which led off into small nooks, which led off into more rooms and more nooks. All showcasing Alex’s remarkably sensual art. Both Dylan and Meredith felt overwhelmed, if for different reasons.

98


Ocean’s Touch

Meredith couldn’t get enough of Alex’s art, and Dylan couldn’t get enough of Meredith’s emotional response to the paintings. He was drinking in her feelings like a wine connoisseur sampling the rarest vintage. Everywhere Meredith looked, sinuous figures wove around each other. In the most contemporary of painted styles—one which almost looked digital in its precision—Alex had created a world that was part-mythological, part-human, and part-machine. Influenced by manga and other Asian art forms, liquid-eyed women, with the barest hint of horns or wings or hooves, offered succor to men built partly of machines. Forests twined over canvases replete with creatures known to both mythology and science. Children with robotic joints fed unicorns on one side of the room, as dragons burned down well-known corporate fastfood restaurants on the other. Dylan followed Meredith. She had a loose grip on one of his fingers, like a child might, as she wandered from room to room, making various noises of appreciation. Meanwhile, the feelings coming from her washed over Dylan—if she’d wanted Alex before seeing his art, now she lusted over the artist as well as the man. Meredith was so riveted, in fact, that she’d failed to notice that the other guests were as affected as she was by Alex’s sensual paintings. It started slowly—after about an hour of trailing behind Meredith as she walked very, very slowly from room to room, Dylan noticed a couple kissing. Then he saw two women embracing on a divan in a dark corner of the same room. Two men walking behind him and Meredith stopped to watch, but the women only stretched themselves out on the divan, deepening their kiss sensually.


99

Denise Townsend

“Oh,” Meredith gasped, tugging on his finger as she stopped in front of the painting of a buxom mermaid, sitting on the lap of a man in an old-fashioned diving suit—bulbous glass helmet and all. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked, leaning closer to peer into the mermaid’s transfixed, flushed features. The sea nymph was very happy to be sitting on her diver’s lap, it seemed. “Yes,” Dylan answered, loving the echoing flush in Meredith’s cheeks. He ran his hand from the middle of her back over her buttocks, caressing each cheek in turn. Meredith shot up straight, pulling away from him slightly. “Dylan, there are people,” she said, peering about. And then flames really crept up her cheeks as she noticed exactly what those other people were doing. On the chaise lounge in the corner of the room, three figures were draped. They were mostly in shadow, but Dylan and Meredith could hear the susurrating sound of clothes being removed, as well as the soft, wet sounds of kissing. Leaning against another wall stood a woman, one hand inside the slit of her dress, clearly touching herself, while a man in a tuxedo loomed in front of her, transfixed by the subtle movements of her hand inside her dress. The woman watched the man watching her, her lips parted as her limbs trembled. “Oh,” Meredith repeated, as breathlessly as before. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they,” Dylan said, letting his eyes wander appreciatively over both sets of people. “Um,” Meredith said, clearly shocked. Dylan could tell she didn’t know where to look—her eyes darted from the chaise lounge, to the painting, to the couple against the wall, to another painting. Before she could flee, Dylan took Meredith’s hand, leading her farther into the maze of rooms in front of them. In each room, they were greeted with more beautiful art and equally provocative flesh. Meredith could feel her body grow

100


Ocean’s Touch

hot—both in embarrassment and arousal. Her first reaction had been to run, to get as far away as possible from all the writhing bodies around her. But as Dylan led her through the rooms, openly appreciating all the sensual acts being performed in public, Meredith admitted that she felt more than aversion—she felt desire. Passing through one room, she saw a woman kneeling before a man, his hard cock pumping into her mouth as his hands held tight to fistfuls of her hair. In other room, two men sixty-nined as two women watched, openly masturbating without shame. Where is Alex? she wondered, much to her surprise. Who is he with right now? Curiously, the thought made her as excited as it did jealous. She wondered what Alex looked like naked…what sort of woman he went for…what he did with, and to, the women he bedded… From what felt like a great distance, Meredith heard Dylan chuckle. She came back to herself to realize that they’d walked into a very small tower nook with stone walls and lovely stained-glass windows. A rich tapestry-like covering was hung over the arched doorway, fastened out of the way by an elegant fringed tie-back. For furniture, there was a long, cushioned bench, over which hung another of Alex’s richly colored paintings. The only light came from a gentle spotlight on the painting, and candles lit in wall sconces. The painting itself was of a long-limbed woman with pale skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. But what had made Dylan chuckle was that draped around the woman in the painting was the skin of a seal. Her face peeked out from underneath the seal’s sweet face, which she wore like a hood. Her transformation was half complete—her lower half was the plump, flippered body of a seal, while her upper half was all woman. She floated in


101

Denise Townsend

midocean, but behind her, in the distance, loomed another old-fashioned diver, only this one carried a spear. Meredith studied the painting closely, her heart pounding. Did Alex know about Dylan? Do they know each other? She wondered. “Not bad for a human,” Dylan said into her ear as he reached down to put his arms around her from behind. “What?” Meredith asked somewhat sharply to her own ears. “He did a good job getting us right, for a human,” Dylan explained. “So, you don’t think he knows about your kind?” Meredith asked, thinking carefully. “I doubt it,” Dylan said. “We are rare and secretive.” Then his warm mouth found her ear as he kissed and nibbled her sensitive lobe. “In fact, we only come out of the sea for beautiful women who need a break from their lives.” Meredith’s brain was working overtime. She was relieved to hear that Dylan and Alex weren’t somehow in cahoots. But she’d also noticed his choice of language. “Is that what this is?” she asked, turning around in his arms. “A break?” Her voice was carefully neutral, and he couldn’t read her emotions. She was either very conflicted or suddenly very guarded. “Meredith,” he said hesitantly. “You know what I am…” They stood holding each other, feeling their hearts thump against the other’s chests, as they stared in each other’s eyes. “You’re a selkie,” Meredith said. “A bridegroom of the sea.” And with those words the warm spill of her emotions came tumbling over him. A hint of regret, yes, for a relationship that was good but could never be. But mostly her acceptance and understanding of his nature and of his commitments. He lowered

102


Ocean’s Touch

his forehead to rest on hers, their mouths only inches from each other as their breath mingled. “I could no more ask you to leave the sea than you could ask me to live within it,” Meredith whispered after a few long moments. He felt both her heartache and her relief. She very much cared for Dylan, yes. But she was a woman who knew her own heart and knew that, as much as she cared for him, her destiny lay with someone other than her selkie lover. Dylan’s only answer was to kiss her, hard and deep. His tongue speared her mouth as he scooped her up in his arms, only to deposit her rather unceremoniously on the bench beneath the painting of the selkie maiden. Meredith’s breath gasped as she pushed him away, anxiety over being seen warring with her desire. Dylan knelt at the end of the bench on which she reclined, her legs akimbo as she held up her upper body on her elbows. He very slowly ran the tips of his fingers up the inside of her long, stocking-clad legs. She shivered, moaning as her legs fell open a tad farther. His hands stopped just before her cunt, her desire ripe in the air as her chest heaved. Their eyes met, and Dylan let Meredith feel his own lust for her. “The curtain,” she requested as a shudder racked her body. Swiftly, Dylan rose to release the tapestry’s tieback, then returned to his place between Meredith’s legs. He loomed above her, grasping her ankles in his large hands. Pulling her legs apart, Dylan pulled her body down the bench until her bottom teetered precariously on the edge, only inches from his face. Still holding her ankles wide, with her knees bent, Meredith felt her selkie’s hot breath on her inner thighs. Licking and nibbling her flesh, Dylan worked his way closer to Meredith’s already soaking wet cunt. The thin mesh of her thong did nothing to conceal her


103

Denise Townsend

arousal, and he breathed deeply of her salty scent. Then he licked along her plump lips, savoring their tang. Meredith, meanwhile, had covered her mouth with her own hand to help muffle her moans. She couldn’t believe she was doing this here, with all those other people out there doing everything they were doing. The privacy of the curtained alcove was something, but not enough. She wanted a door, her own bedroom, or an anonymous hotel. She bit back a moan as Dylan’s clever tongue slipped underneath the thin strip of her thong to brush against the sensitive opening of her vagina. She closed her eyes, trying not to think… All of those people out there, touching each other. All of us in Alex’s house. Fucking in Alex’s house…Alex is out there, somewhere… Dylan felt a rush of wetness over his tongue, as he felt both Meredith’s lust and her anxiety spike. He wondered what she was thinking, but was pretty confident she was as nervous about tonight’s events as she was turned on— although she would never admit the latter. Dylan let go of Meredith’s right ankle to get a firm grip on the front panel of her thong. Then, using magic so as not to hurt her, he ripped the thong off, leaving her open and vulnerable before him. He dropped the torn pieces on the floor as he bent his dark head toward her sex. Meredith’s spine arched as Dylan’s tongue lapped slowly up her wet cunt, not stopping till he sucked her erect little clit into his mouth. She bit into the soft flesh of her palm to keep herself quiet as he did that same, slow lick again, and then again. Desire speared her as Meredith moaned around her palm, wanting him to keep licking her, wanting his fingers inside her, wanting his cock. She just wanted—all thoughts of impropriety fleeing before so much pleasure, underneath Alex’s painting, in Alex’s house.

104


Ocean’s Touch

For a split second, Teddy’s frowning face flashed before her eyes, but was driven out by starbursts of pleasure caused by Dylan’s tongue finding her clit again as two thick fingers plunged deeply into her. Meredith’s free hand smacked against the wall as she looked for something to grip, her other hand still busy stifling her cries of pleasure. And that’s what Alex saw as he pushed aside the curtain. A spear of light falling over Meredith’s flushed face, her eyes squeezed shut over her pink cheeks, one hand covering her mouth, the other spread against the rough stone of the wall. Transfixed by the look of pleasure on her face, it took Alex a few seconds to register the rest of the scene. Including the dark-headed man kneeling between her thighs, working her lovely cunt with fingers and mouth.


105

Chapter Ten

Alex had looked everywhere for Meredith after being assured by his staff that she hadn’t left. The only crevice left unchecked was his tower nook. When he saw the tapestry covering the entry, his first thought was that she was hiding, shocked by what she’d seen outside. And so Alex had taken a deep breath before pulling aside the curtain. He’d been prepared for tears, accusations, and demands for a quick exit. He had not been prepared to find Meredith with a man kneeling between her long, pale thighs. She did ask if she could bring a date, he remembered, albeit rather late. Alex was about to drop the curtain and walk away—to do what, he wasn’t sure. Nonetheless he knew he needed to walk away, when Meredith’s large brown eyes opened. Squinting in the light, she cried out when she saw the dark figure of someone watching, forgetting she was muffling herself with her own hand. Her palm flew away and she cried out again, panicked and very loud, as Alex stepped inside the room, into the light so she could see who he was. “I’m sorry. I was looking for you, but I had no idea…” he babbled, as he tried to keep his eyes anywhere but on Meredith. Meredith’s hands pulled at her skirts as the dark man looming between her thighs looked up at Alex. For a second, that weird vision Alex used when he painted—what he called his “artist’s sight”—fell over his gaze, and Alex saw a man with a crown of iron-gray hair and enormous coal-black eyes that glowed with the power and bounty of the sea. Then Alex blinked, and the vision was

Ocean’s Touch

gone—replaced by a normal, if very handsome, man with dark hair and human eyes. The man hadn’t moved—he just watched Alex with his disarming stare. Alex also couldn’t help but notice that the stranger not only hadn’t closed Meredith’s legs but appeared to be holding them open. “Alex, this isn’t what it looks like,” Meredith said, realizing how stupid that sounded even as she said it. She was also struggling to sit up, but Dylan wouldn’t let go of his iron grip on her thighs, and she was at too awkward an angle to rise more than halfway. “Aye,” the man said, startling both Alex and Meredith. “It is what it looks like.” And then Dylan did the only thing that he could think of to get Meredith to understand—he used himself as a conduit so that the human couple could feel exactly what the other felt at that moment. With a whooshing sound as if she’d been punched in the stomach, Meredith lay back on the bench, staring up at Alex with huge eyes. Dylan felt what Meredith did—Alex’s jealousy at seeing her with another man, the overpowering lust that overrode his jealousy, and his genuine desire for her. In fact, overwhelming any jealousy or even sexual need was the fact Alex wanted Meredith in a way that wasn’t just about bodies, although it was also that. Even Dylan, used to the long-lived emotions of his own people, was impressed by the complexity and depth of Alex’s feelings for Meredith. 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.


107

Denise Townsend

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.

108


Ocean’s Touch

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.


109

Denise Townsend

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.

110


Ocean’s Touch

“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.


111

Denise Townsend

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 house, 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.

112


Ocean’s Touch

“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.”


113

Denise Townsend

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.

114


Ocean’s Touch

“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.”


115

Denise Townsend

“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.

116


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.

Denise Townsend

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

118


Ocean’s Touch

if saying their good-byes, before darting off toward a small school of fish swimming in the distance. Meredith grinned fiercely, her expression enchanted. She was blown away by the stark beauty of Dylan’s undersea world, and so unbelievably honored to have been able to share it with him. It’s amazing, she thought. And to have this experience…I feel so alive. And then she realized how much she enjoyed that feeling. On the waves of that realization came another, darker thought. That feeling of life made Meredith recognize how dead she’d been—how lifeless, how numb. Meredith knew then that it didn’t matter if she had no real answers. No, she didn’t know what she was doing—not with Dylan, and especially when it came to Alex. She didn’t know who she wanted to be yet or how she intended to become that person. But she knew one thing that made all that uncertainty not only bearable but exciting. Meredith knew she wanted to live. So she turned to her selkie lover, and she shared with him her newfound certainty. Running slender fingers down his chest, she cupped Dylan’s balls gently in her hand, then lifted her eyes to the surface in clear demand. Meredith wanted him. And she wanted him now.

Back on the beach, Dylan used his sealskin to create a bed on the stone beach, underneath the stars. The natural magic of his skin would not only cushion them but keep them insulated from the cold night air. Meredith watched his actions with hungry eyes, and as soon as the skin was laid out she pounced. Pushing him down and back, so that he lay sprawled before her, Meredith knelt between Dylan’s legs. She moved forward to kiss him hungrily, her mouth


119

Denise Townsend

feeding at his. Then she began kissing her way downward—starting at his neck, where she nipped and sucked, then licking her way over his salty clavicles. His nipples came next, a hungry suckle to each, before she kissed her way down his flat stomach. Dylan, meanwhile, lay riveted by Meredith’s aggressiveness. The way she moved down his body was less about teasing him and more about claiming his flesh as hers to enjoy. When she found his thighs, she nipped gently, pushing his legs wide as her hand found his tight scrotum. Dylan groaned as Meredith massaged him gently, before she took the hard length of his cock in her hands. She sat back on her heels, all the better to watch his face as she began stroking him. He didn’t hold back, groaning deeply and letting her feel his own pleasure. “Take me in your mouth,” he said. She gave him a secretive smile before bending forward. Then Dylan felt her warm tongue lapping at the head of his cock. His hands found her hair as his back arched, and then her hot mouth took him in as far as she could, shocking him with the suddenness of his pleasure. Moaning, he fisted the soft strands between his fingers, arching his back to pump his cock up into her mouth. Meredith responded by increasing her suction, sliding her tongue more firmly against the underside of his shaft. Meredith let her selkie lover fuck her mouth. She loved the feel of Dylan’s cock between her lips, and the way he gasped with pleasure as she sucked harder or ran her tongue over his sensitive head on the upstroke. But when she knew he was close—his thrusts into her mouth more demanding, more insistent—she deliberately withdrew her mouth, lowering it to his balls. Sucking and licking first one, and then the other, her reward was his long, tortured moan. “Move yourself around, lass,” he growled. “I want to touch you.”

120


Ocean’s Touch

Meredith smiled against his flesh, then moved her knees around so that she knelt next to his chest. As she leaned over to put her mouth back on his cock, she felt his thick fingers at her sex. Moaning, she slid her mouth down on him as she felt his fingers slide between the wet lips of her cunt. She could feel how soaked she was, and his fingers met no resistance as he slid first one, then two, into her throbbing sex. It was her turn to groan and she did so, her mouth reverberating around Dylan, causing him to buck up against her. His thumb found her clit, teasing her gently as his fingers pushed deeper inside her, rasping deliciously against her inner walls as he sought her G-spot. He knew he’d struck gold when he felt a warm gush of wetness on his fingers and her throat’s soft convulsions as she whimpered around his cock. Dylan pushed at Meredith’s knees, guiding her as she inched over until she straddled his face. Then he pulled her hips down to meet his mouth, his lips burrowing hungrily into her cunt. Dylan’s warm mouth on her already overheated flesh was too much for Meredith, and when his lips and tongue found her clit, her orgasm hit her like a truck coming out of nowhere. Meredith convulsed over Dylan, his cock popping free of her mouth as she wailed her pleasure into the night air. He kept up his pressure on her clit, until it became too intense and she was squirming to free herself from his marauding tongue. He let her go, and she flopped down on the skin next to him, panting harshly. She looked at him with a combination of satiation and reproach as he moved to lie next to her, stroking his hand over her body as if soothing a startled horse. “I think you broke me,” Meredith said once her breathing had subsided. Dylan chuckled. “Hardly, lass. Broke you in, maybe.”


121

Denise Townsend

“Mmm,” she sighed, snuggling closer to him and finding his lips with her own. He tasted of her. After a long, lingering kiss, she spoke again. “If that was my breaking in,” she said, reaching down to stroke her fingers along his stillhard cock, “does that mean I’m ready for a good hard ride?” The smile Dylan gave her in response sent a shiver up her spine—it was feral, hungry, and utterly remorseless. “On your knees,” he said, his voice low and demanding. She did as he asked, moving around so that she presented her backside to him. His hands found her buttocks, massaging each softly muscled globe as he used his magic to call from her bedroom what he wanted—the little bottle of erotic oil that had been their gift from Wendy. Meredith heard Dylan open something behind her, then she shivered as she felt something cool pour over her back and bum. Oil, she thought, remembering Wendy’s gift from earlier. Then she shivered again as Dylan’s strong hands began massaging the oil into her skin. He started at her neck and moved down her body, moving his hands in broad, slow sweeps that both relaxed her and primed her for more pleasure. When he came to her bottom, his large hands swept down the backs of her thighs, and then back up her inner thighs, just drifting over her sex as he moved his hands upward to part her cheeks. She shivered as the cool air stroked against her nether mouth, a moment before she heard the pop of the oil’s lid and felt another cool drizzle of oil pour over her anus. She tensed as Dylan’s fingers stroked over the oil, rubbing gently against her asshole, but not yet penetrating her. “Relax,” he murmured, reaching one hand forward to caress her left breast as his right hand’s fingers busied themselves with teasing sensations out of her anus’s sensitive nerves. Meredith whimpered, then cried out in pleasure as

122


Ocean’s Touch

one thick finger slowly filled her backside. Dylan withdrew his finger, coating it with another layer of oil before inserting it again, repeating the process a second and third time. When his finger could thrust with no resistance, he added a second, and more oil. Meredith cried out again as the sensation of being filled doubled, then tripled with the addition of another finger, but there was no pain. When Dylan could move all three fingers inside her with ease, he shifted forward to line his cock up with her tight hole. “I told you I’d fuck you here,” he murmured, covering his cock with oil as he drizzled more into her stretched anus. It flinched, closing tight at the oil’s cool contact, and he smiled before opening her again with his fingers. As he did so, he used his free hand to press her shoulders down onto his sealskin. She moaned the entire way. “Tell me you want me,” he murmured, thrusting his fingers harder as his left hand found her dripping wet sex. She gasped, but remained silent. “Tell me you want me,” he repeated, his hand leaving her cunt to give her a gentle spank on her behind. She gasped again, and then once more as his fingers found her clit. He never stopped thrusting in and out of her ass with his other hand. “I want you,” she said, crying out when he pinched her clit roughly in punishment. “No. You must tell me—what do you want?” he demanded. “I want you to fuck me,” she said, for which she got another rough pinch. “In the ass,” she said finally, earning herself a long, conciliatory stroke of her clit. “Tell me again,” Dylan said, removing his fingers to grasp his cock. He moved the broad tip to her ass, making sure he was sufficiently lubricated as he did so.


123

Denise Townsend

“I want you to fuck my ass,” Meredith said, looking back at him with those inscrutable dark eyes. “Please, Dylan. Fuck my ass.” With a growl of pure lust, Dylan pushed his hips ever so slowly forward. Meredith gasped as she felt his cock start to penetrate her ass, a sharp stab of pain flaring. She held her breath, trying to relax, as he let her adjust. Knowing her eyes were watering, feeling the soft texture of his sealskin clenched in her fists, she wondered if she could take all of him. Dylan, meanwhile, held still, feeling the tight clench of her ass around his cock. He moved his fingers very gently over her clit, strumming away the ache and nervousness he could feel in her. She relaxed infinitesimally, and he pushed his hips forward again, gently, his cock inching slowly inside her. Meredith breathed deeply, a million sensations zinging through her body. There was still discomfort, yes, but a slow pleasure was beginning to kindle deep inside her. Dylan’s fingers on her clit spurred on that pleasure, and she loved knowing they were sharing something so intimate, so private. Dylan listened to Meredith’s deep breaths, feeling her slowly relaxing around him, underneath him. He kept up the steady pressure on her clit as he kept pushing forward with his cock, fractions of an inch at a time, until eventually he was nearly all the way inside her. Only then did he lean down. “I’m inside you, lass,” he murmured. He felt her whole body shiver, and his balls throbbed. “Fuck me, Dylan,” she whispered, meeting his eyes with hers. “Fuck me, and come deep inside me.” Dylan grunted, feeling his orgasm rise at her words. His teeth found the back of her neck and he bit down gently, holding her still beneath him as he began thrusting.

124


Ocean’s Touch

Meredith’s fists were still clenched around Dylan’s sealskin, her own skin alive with pleasure. She felt so full at that moment, and so taken. Her body was Dylan’s, to be used at his discretion. And yet she understood the pleasure he took in giving her pleasure, and that he would never be satisfied until she was. This symbiosis of their intimacy engendered within her a trust so complete that, for the first time in her adult life, Meredith released herself entirely into the hands of another person. Pushing aside all thoughts, all emotions, she allowed herself to feel. Unsure exactly what Meredith was thinking, Dylan still knew the instant something changed within her. The roiling mass of emotions he nearly always sensed coming off Meredith—her usual odd cocktail of pleasure mixed with anxiety, joy mixed with guilt, and other such contradictory feelings—seemed to disappear entirely. “That’s it, lass,” Dylan murmured, after releasing her nape. “Be with me, Mer. Just be with me…” In response, Meredith rose onto her elbows, pushing her ass back onto him, meeting him thrust for thrust as they really began fucking. Dylan could feel the pleasure coursing through his body, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to take much more. Meredith was so tight, and he could already feel her own imminent orgasm rippling through her bowels where he was buried. And there was no way she wasn’t coming first. Dylan used his free hand, the one not still playing with her clit, to pull Meredith back against him so that they were both kneeling upright, her back pressed against his chest. He reached around to pluck at her nipples, his lips finding the sweet lobe of her ear and giving it a suckle.


125

Denise Townsend

Rooting into her, Dylan fucked Meredith as hard as he dared, totally opening his channels to her so that their combined pleasure surged in and around them. “You feel so fucking good, lass. So fucking good,” he panted, causing her to whimper in response. She also let her hands reach behind her, grabbing Dylan’s thrusting ass as if she wanted to pull him even deeper inside her. “Oh God, make me come, Dylan,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I want to come with you inside me.” “Come for me, sweet girl,” he demanded, strumming his fingers faster, harder over her clit, feeling her clench even more around him. Fucking her deeply, feeling his come rising in his balls, his lips found her ears again. “Come. Now,” he said, just as he felt her shatter around him. Meredith’s orgasm was no less powerful, despite it being her second of the night. If anything, it felt more intense, more complex, than anything she’d ever experienced. Dylan felt huge inside her, her muscles contracting over him with sinuous strength. And a second after feeling her own pleasure crashing through her, Dylan’s own come-cries rose up to meet Meredith’s in the cold night air. Shooting his hot seed deep into her ass, Dylan still kept up his rough pleasuring of her cunt, as he milked every last moan and sweet convulsion out of her straining body. Eventually, they collapsed forward, together. After a few seconds to get their breath back, Dylan slowly withdrew his weight from Meredith, pulling his cock gently out of her ass. Then he spooned around her, feeling as close to her as he ever had another being, human or immortal. She smiled at him, her eyes drowsy but pleased. “That was gorgeous,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

126


Ocean’s Touch

In reply, Dylan kissed her long and deep, opening his magic wide to allow Meredith to feel his own gratitude.


127

Chapter Twelve

Meredith knew she was in trouble the moment she saw Mrs. Casaubon’s face. Upon entering Ron’s office, Meredith had greeted him and his staff as usual, then had made her way over to greet Teddy’s mother. Who, instead of returning Meredith’s greeting, had just stared at her daughter-in-law as if Meredith were an off-smelling stranger attempting to sell gold watches from the inside of her trench coat. Meredith had given an internal groan, fairly sure she knew what had Mrs. Casaubon so annoyed. Seal Harbor was, after all, a small town, even if it was an expensive one. Gossip traveled fast. The meeting, however, was pleasant, and Meredith was pleased to see that some of the recent decisions they’d made had paid huge dividends. For example, a celebrity writer from Bangor had backed a luncheon program for underprivileged children in the state of Maine, and contributions were pouring in from across the state. Unfortunately, another program in South America, which depended on the endorsement of a prominent and rather unorthodox military leader, had been stymied. The man simply refused to hear their proposal. So Meredith proposed they write to his much kinder and more mentally stable wife, who had a soft heart for charities and a surprisingly firm grip on her husband.

Ocean’s Touch

Soon enough, business was done and Ron—with his typical sensitivity to the vagaries of Mrs. Casaubon’s moods—hustled his staff out after saying a polite good-bye to Meredith and her mother-in-law. Meredith knew her time was up. Steeling herself, she turned around to face the Dragon. “My girl’s girl, Sarah, works for that Ladislaw man,” Mrs. Casaubon began, slicing with razor-sharp acuity straight to the point. “And she told my girl that you attended one of his orgies.” Meredith cracked an internal joke about not being able to get good help these days. That said, considering the fact that Mrs. Casaubon still called her housekeeper her “girl,” even though Mrs. Baker was in her midsixties, Meredith could understand the housekeeper wanting to slap the old woman with a shocking fact. “I attended Alex’s gallery opening, yes. The paintings were beautiful,” Meredith said, refusing to allow any note of apology to creep into her voice. “They are not ‘gallery openings’,“ Mrs. Casaubon hissed in response. “They are orgies. Everyone knows what that man is…he’s a monster! And you have aligned yourself with him? What would Teddy say?” “Teddy respected Alex,” Meredith asserted carefully. It was only partially the truth, and she knew it. “Teddy thought he was debauched!” Mrs. Casaubon cried. Had the elderly woman been capable of launching herself from her chair, she would undoubtedly have done so. As it was, she managed to inch forward enough to teeter precariously on the edge of her seat. “I can attend whatever parties I wish, Elizabeth,” Meredith said, using her mother-in-law’s first name, knowing it would drive her crazy.


129

Denise Townsend

“No,” Mrs. Casaubon replied, her voice harsh. “No, you can’t. You bear Teddy’s name—my name. You swore an oath to my son. He loved you and opened his life to you. He allowed you in; he gave you things he wouldn’t even give me. You will live as he expected you to live!” Meredith stood riveted to her spot, unable to look away from Teddy’s mother. Not because she was particularly surprised by Mrs. Casaubon’s words— Meredith had heard them a million times in various forms—but because of how Mrs. Casaubon looked as she said them. The old woman’s face was so full of spite and rage that it was like she’d donned some distorted mask of her original features. Her eyes were squinted—her mouth ratcheted open in a ferocious sneer. Even her elderly body shook with fury, and she’d raised one bony finger, pointing at Meredith as if Mrs. Casaubon were the Grim Reaper. She’s jealous, Meredith realized. Meredith had always understood Mrs. Casaubon didn’t like her, but Meredith had thought it was something personal between the two of them. But at that moment, Meredith realized it had nothing to do with her. Teddy’s mother would have hated any woman who would have come into Teddy’s life. He could have engaged himself to a crown princess and still the girl would have been no good according to Mrs. Casaubon. She hates me because I could love her son, and be loved by him, in a way that she couldn’t be, Meredith marveled. She wasn’t happy being just his mother, and having only his love as a son. She wanted to be everything to him—friend, colleague, confidante, mother, and even wife and lover. “You are sick,” Meredith said before she’d even thought about what was coming out of her mouth. Teddy’s mother sat back in her chair as if she’d been slapped.

130


Ocean’s Touch

“Teddy was your son,” Meredith continued, figuring she’d just thrown in more than a few pennies; why not toss in the lot? “He loved you. Why wasn’t that enough?” “This isn’t about me,” Mrs. Casaubon spluttered. “This is about you. I always knew you were cheap—only out for Teddy’s money. I always knew you never cared for him. I’m the only one who ever loved him…” “I never cared for him?” Meredith asked, her voice rising, clear and strong. “Who was there when he was dying, Elizabeth? Who bathed him? Fed him? Cleaned his soiled diapers?” Mrs. Casaubon moved her hand over her eyes, as if shielding herself from the images Meredith’s words created. “You couldn’t stand to see your son sick. You told me you couldn’t bear it. You wouldn’t even visit. Remember when he was dying, and his nurse fell ill and took a week off, and we weren’t able to get a sub till the fourth day because there were all those winter storms. On the third day, I begged you to come spell me—give me just an hour or two so I could sleep. I came back after two hours— only two hours!—and you’d locked yourself in the bathroom. Teddy was lying in his own shit, crying out for help, and you’d locked yourself in the bathroom. I had to clean him, soothe him, and then talk you out of where you’d goddamned hidden yourself like a child. So don’t ever, ever, say to me that I never cared for Teddy.” Mrs. Casaubon’s jaw worked helplessly, undoubtedly trying to find something poisonous to say, despite being momentarily silenced. Meredith, however, was done. She was finished with this conversation and she planned never to have it again. And so she stood, gathering her briefcase as she did so.


131

Denise Townsend

“I loved your son, Elizabeth. And I was a damned good wife. I still miss him, constantly. But he’s dead, and I let myself be buried with him.” Meredith steadied her voice as she squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to be buried anymore. I’m going to live my own life. That means I see whom I want to see and I do what I want to do. I am free, Elizabeth, and I’ve earned that freedom. I earned that freedom by loving Teddy as much as I did, and by taking care of him both when he was healthy and when he was dying.” “You can’t just walk away,” the old woman croaked, a note of panic in her voice. “And I won’t,” Meredith said more gently. “But I’m also not your slave. I do not serve you or your family name.” “What about all the responsibilities Teddy entrusted to you? I knew you’d just drop them…” “I’m not dropping anything, Elizabeth. I’ll still run certain aspects of Teddy’s estate. But,” Meredith said, carefully schooling her expression so she didn’t smile when Mrs. Casaubon flinched at that but. “Things will have to change. I can’t do everything anymore. It wasn’t fair of Teddy to ask that of me, and, to be honest, I’m not qualified to do everything I’m currently doing.” “Teddy said only you…” Mrs. Casaubon said, iron starting to creep back into her voice. “Yes,” Meredith interrupted, before her mother-in-law could get her back up. “He did. But there are better ways to do things. For example, you did such an excellent job running that fund-raiser in New York. You have many more social contacts than I do, and you’re perfectly suited to that sort of event. Why shouldn’t you be in charge of that every year, and any similar occasions for which you’d like to take responsibility?”

132


Ocean’s Touch

Mrs. Casaubon’s mouth had flown open at Meredith’s first words, but had slowly crept shut as Meredith finished speaking. By the time Meredith had finished, a small smile was lifting the corners of the old woman’s lips. “That was a rather fabulous evening, wasn’t it,” Mrs. Casaubon said. “Far better than you could have managed.” “Absolutely fabulous, and definitely superior to what I would have done,” Meredith agreed, keeping any acid out of her tone. “Well, I suppose that some delegation of Teddy’s affairs could be undertaken, as long as it’s done responsibly.” “Yes, of course. And you’d be consulted every step of the way, obviously,” Meredith said, sweetening the pot with another lashing of honey. “But this doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want, young woman,” Mrs. Casaubon said, as Meredith cursed internally. “Alexander Ladislaw is simply not an appropriate man for you to associate with.” Meredith smiled at her mother-in-law—her former mother-in-law, she reminded herself. “You’re probably right, Elizabeth,” she said, pulling a chair up next to Mrs. Casaubon and leaning forward, as if they were old friends about to enjoy a thorough gossip. “Alex probably isn’t all that appropriate. But he’s marvelous. Even more marvelous than the man with whom I’m currently associating.” Mrs. Casaubon looked at Meredith in horror, her bleary eyes wide as saucers. “I met Dylan on the beach,” Meredith continued, wondering how long Teddy’s mother could hold out before she fled as fast as her walker would take her. “He’s very handsome, very sweet, very smart…and absolutely magical in bed.”


133

Denise Townsend

Meredith had never seen her elderly mother-in-law move so quickly. One minute Mrs. Casaubon was reaching for her walker; the next minute she was gone. Her former daughter-in-law sat back and smiled.

“Fancy seeing you here,” came a voice from just behind where she stood after pressing the button for the elevator. Ambushed, Meredith thought, her heart plummeting into her feet as she slowly turned around. She’d just left Ron’s office, after having given Teddy’s mother more than enough time to clear out of the building. Alexander Ladislaw sat on one of the low benches that stood sentry on either side of the main door to Ron’s office suite. He looked comfortable, as if he were in his own living room, with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his back resting against the wall. He had his hands resting stoically on his flat stomach, and his green eyes studied her intently. “Funnily enough, I come here each week at this time,” Meredith managed to say, despite her suddenly dry mouth. “That you do, as Ron’s secretary was helpful enough to inform me,” Alex said, his demeanor changing as he grinned impishly at her. He stood, and Meredith backed up one involuntary step as he strode toward her. “So I thought I’d meet you here. We need to talk,” Alex said, causing Meredith’s heart to stutter again. She could imagine all the things he wanted to say to her. All the confidence she’d just shown Mrs. Casaubon fled when confronted with the man with whom she’d conducted herself so liberally the night before. Meredith had told Teddy’s mother she could see whomever she wanted, but did

134


Ocean’s Touch

she really think that Alexander Ladislaw—who could have the pick of any of those beautiful women she’d seen at his house last night, women for whom their bodies and their sexuality were like comfortable second skins—could ever want her, Teddy’s dull widow? He’ll say, “It was fun, but obviously we’re totally inappropriate for each other,” she thought, her heart beating again but sinking fast. Or even worse, “It wasn’t that fun; let’s act like none of this ever happened.” Then her heart really sank. Or worst of all, “You look like you’re not too bad in the sack. I wouldn’t mind giving you a go.” He must think I’m such a whore, came that small, tinny voice that had been so carefully instilled in her by Teddy’s mother, Teddy’s society, and even Teddy himself. “We need to talk,” Alex repeated, a bit alarmed as he watched Meredith practically shrink into herself. The woman standing in front of him now looked like she was expecting a spanking—and not the fun kind. So Alex purposely took another step toward her, pulling the lapels of her raincoat closer and tighter around her in a fussy, caring way that also forced her to stand up taller. He hated seeing Meredith looking defeated. In turn, she slowly raised those gorgeous dark eyes to his, and he gave her an encouraging smile. “And we need lunch,” Alex finished, turning her gently, back toward the elevator and offering her his arm. “I saw the Dragon come flying out of Ron’s offices like she’d been bitten, so I imagine you could use a drink. Did she find out you attended my party?” The elevator arrived and they entered, Alex pressing the button for the ground floor as Meredith’s mind raced. Did she tell him the truth, or lie in such a way that she could act like the scene between her, Alex, and Dylan had never happened? I tell the truth, she decided eventually. I’m too old for games.


135

Denise Townsend

“Yes, she did. And she was furious. She called them ‘orgies’.“ “What?” Alex cried with mock outrage. “They’re not orgies! They’re gallery openings. Admittedly, with rather a lot of sex.” He said the last just as the elevator doors popped open on the ground floor, to the shocked faces of the Dorchesters, an elderly couple who made Teddy’s family look poor and unconnected in society. Mrs. Dorchester was a faded lily of a woman, lovely in her old age, but entirely colorless except for her rather shocking hair—the victim of too many colored rinses. Mr. Dorchester, meanwhile, was something right out of The House of Mirth. He could easily have been cast as a turn-of-the-century oil baron—turned out in all bluster, replete with a watch fob and waistcoat. Alex winked broadly at the pair. “Morning, Bertie; morning, Estelle. You look splendid, my dear. You’re always doing something new with your hair.” Meredith marveled as Estelle, who’d worn her violet-rinsed hair soft and puffy—like an enormous, lurid powder puff—for the entirety of Meredith’s existence in Seal Harbor, blushed like a schoolgirl and giggled. “I did ask my girl to do something a bit different this week,” Mrs. Dorchester told Alex, who nodded sagely. “Tell her to keep it up,” Alex said. “It really suits you.” Mrs. Dorchester giggled again as Mr. Dorchester sized up Meredith. “Nice seeing you out and about, Meredith,” he said in his gruff, oldschool manner. “It’s not right for a woman your age to be cooped up in that widow’s prison.” “Thank you, Mr. Dorchester,” Meredith replied confused. I must be the subject of gossip, she realized. Why else would widow’s prison trip so lightly off the tongue? The fact that Seal Harbor gossiped about her should have been obvious to Meredith, since she knew how everyone gossiped about everyone else. But for

136


Ocean’s Touch

some reason it had never occurred to her. Probably because, if she’d let herself see herself from the town’s perspective, she may have second-guessed her choices. “Call me Bertie,” he asserted, reaching out a hand as if they’d just met. “I always liked your husband, but his mother is a harridan. Have you taken up with this scalawag?” Meredith, one step behind the intrepid Mr. Dorchester, took a moment to realize what he’d just asked. But Alex answered for her. “If I have anything to do with it, yes,” Alex replied, putting a hand over Meredith’s, where it rested in the crook of her arm. To Meredith’s surprise, Mrs. Dorchester clapped her hands delightedly as Bertie roared with laughter. “Excellent! You need to settle down, boy, you’re too free living,” Bertie said to Alex before turning to Meredith. “And Ladislaw here’ll be good for you, Meredith. Teddy was a good boy, but a terrible stick in the mud. And you’re both very tall. The world needs more tall people breeding.” Meredith’s jaw worked helplessly as she tried to process Bertie’s random comments enough to reply to one of them. “Plus it’ll give the Dragon a coronary,” Bertie snickered evilly, as his wife slapped him gently on the upper arm in retribution. Does everyone call Elizabeth the Dragon? Meredith wondered. “Well, it was lovely seeing you both, but we’ve got to be going. I’ve promised to take Meredith to lunch,” Alex said. Meredith cringed, assuming Alex didn’t realize that telling the Dorchesters anything meant everyone in Seal Harbor would know within the hour. The rest of Maine would know within three, and the entire East Coast would know by that evening.


137

Denise Townsend

Then, after they’d said their good-byes and Alex had swooped her out of the door, she had a different thought. Maybe he does know? she wondered. And if he does know… Is he marking his territory?

138


Chapter Thirteen

“You miss it, don’t you?” Meredith asked. Dylan turned around from where he’d been gazing out to the sea. For a split second, Dylan’s glamour dropped and Meredith saw him as he truly was— iron-haired, black-eyed, and clad only in his sealskin. He looked fierce, preternatural, and sublimely, frighteningly beautiful. Then that image faded as Dylan’s magic reasserted itself, and the man before Meredith was still handsome, but human, clad in a pair of low-slung jeans. “Of course,” he said, although he smiled at her as he said so, beckoning her closer. Meredith went to him, letting Dylan wrap his strong, warm arms around her. “I always miss the sea when I’m away from her. But I’ve enjoyed my time with you.” His whispered words caressed her ear, and she shivered. “Will you be going soon?” Meredith asked. “Yes,” was his only reply. Meredith’s heart ached at those words, despite having known this would happen. Dylan was a selkie; his world wasn’t her world. But she’d miss him. “Will you visit?” She asked eventually. “Of course,” he said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “As often as you’ll have me.” “Good,” she told him, and she meant it. While she understood his need to return home, that didn’t mean she wanted him out of her life entirely.

Denise Townsend

They kissed then, gently, before Dylan withdrew, walking her up the beach to where he could lay his sealskin on dry land. Then he pulled her down onto it, so they could cuddle and watch the waves. “How was your meeting?” he asked. Meredith groaned. “A nightmare. Not the meeting—that was fine. But Teddy’s mother knew I’d gone to Alex’s party. She called it an orgy.” “I think that, technically, it was,” Dylan reminded her archly, as he ran a strong hand over her ribs. “Yes, well, she wasn’t happy. Believe it or not, however, I told her where to stick it.” “You did?” “Yes. I had no idea I was going to, and I had no idea what I was going to say. But she just started going at me, the way she does, and it’s like a switch flipped inside me. I realized all these things I should have long before.” “Such as?” Dylan asked. “That she does hate me, yes, but she would have hated any woman who came between her and Teddy. And that I’ve spent all these years doing half of what I do because I’m hoping one day she’ll turn to me and say, ‘you know what, Meredith, I was wrong. You’re a great person and I’m glad my son loved you’.“ Dylan cuddled her closer. “But she’ll never say those things,” he said. “Exactly. She’ll always hate me. Not because of me, but because she’s got a screw loose when it comes to her son.” “I wish I could say you were wrong, but from what I’ve heard about this woman, you’re probably right. Not all love is good or natural. There are loves that seek only to possess.”

140


Ocean’s Touch

“It’s funny—it actually makes me feel better about Teddy,” Meredith mused. “How so?” Dylan asked. “It’s like part of me has been wondering these last few days if I’m supposed to be mad at Teddy. If I’m supposed to reverse the way I think about him, and see him not as loving but as possessive. But realizing what he was raised with…the man did his best to love me. And he did a damned good job of loving me, when you consider the kind of love he saw growing up.” Dylan nodded, kissing Meredith’s forehead gently. “Anyway,” Meredith continued, “I also realized that if I’m doing half of the things I do only for Teddy’s mother, then why the hell am I doing them? So I told her I want less responsibility. Not no responsibility; that estate is a part of me now. But not all of the responsibility.” “I’m sure she was none too pleased to hear that.” “No,” Meredith grimaced, remembering the fury on Mrs. Casaubon’s face. “But she changed her tune when I told her that part of my letting go meant she could take a larger role. She hated being cut out of the running of Teddy’s estate, so she was very happy to hear that part of the plan.” “And what are you going to do with all your new free time?” “I’ve no idea. Honestly, I didn’t know I was going to say those things. It was just all so obvious in the moment, which means nothing’s thought through. But I’ve always wanted to travel. Maybe finish my PhD. Definitely get more involved with the art world again.” “Well, it might have turned out differently from what you’d imagined, but it sounds like it was a productive meeting.” “It was,” Meredith said. Then a frown crossed her face, and he felt her stiffen, infinitesimally, in his arms. “And afterward, Alex was waiting for me.”


141

Denise Townsend

“Oh?” Dylan said, opening up his empathic channels farther. Up until that second, Meredith had been radiating a surreal calm very unlike herself. The discussion with Teddy’s mother had obviously clarified a lot of deep-seated anxieties for Meredith. But upon bringing up Alex, her emotions were once again roiling. “We went to lunch. We talked.” “About?” “Nothing really. Which surprised me. When he first saw me he said we needed to talk, but then we only discussed random stuff. About our lives, about traveling, about the art scene.” “Was it enjoyable?” “Yes,” Meredith admitted. “Very much so. But before we went to lunch we ran into the Dorchesters—they’re an elderly couple here in Seal Harbor—and he made some quip about wooing me. Maybe it was just for their benefit, but after that comment and obviously after what happened at his house, I thought we did have quite a bit to discuss. But then we get to lunch, and nothing came up about what was said, or done.” “Do you think Alex was serious about what he said to the Dorchesters?” Dylan asked. While he hadn’t been there and couldn’t be certain, Dylan would be willing to bet his sealskin Alex had meant every word. “I’ve got no idea,” Meredith said. “He’s a mystery to me.” Dylan gritted his jaw as Meredith’s anxiety skyrocketed. “You’re upset, lass,” Dylan said gently. “Did he say something? Do something you didn’t like?” Meredith shook her head. “No, we had a really wonderful lunch. I love spending time with him. We seem to have so much in common…” Meredith’s words trailed off as, again, her emotions kicked like a mule.

142


Ocean’s Touch

“But?” Dylan prompted patiently. “What if he is interested, and I do the same thing I did with Teddy?” Meredith asked, her voice small as her anxiety went through the roof. “What do you mean, lass?” Dylan asked. “What if he takes over my life, like I let Teddy do before?” “Ah. I see. Do you think Alex’d want that?” Meredith paused. “I know he’s different from Teddy. But Alex is still a strong person and a strong personality. He obviously has…” Meredith tried to quantify what she’d seen at Alex’s exhibition. “Tastes and predilections,” she settled on eventually. “And you’re afraid they’ll become your tastes and predilections?” Meredith nodded. “It’s not that I hate his lifestyle, or whatever. I barely know Alex, in so many ways. But I’m afraid that if we become a couple—or, to be frank, if I get involved with anyone—I’ll lose myself again. Like I did before.” Dylan sighed, snuggling into Meredith’s side. “You’re no longer twenty-one, lass,” he reminded her. “And the twentyone-year-old you were was untested, still forming. Since then you’ve been through fire.” Meredith frowned. She didn’t take compliments well. “Listen,” Dylan said, looking down into her troubled, dark eyes. “I think you should try it on with Alex. See what happens. You may not even like each other,” he said, pretty sure he was lying about that last one. “And if I come back after a spell and discover you’ve dyed your hair red and grown a goatee, I’ll kick your arse.” Meredith giggled, her anxiety dissipating. “I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?” she asked.


143

Denise Townsend

“Not an idiot. But you’re definitely overthinking things. Maybe Alex picks his nose at the dinner table, and you’ll never get past that first date,” Dylan joked, happy to see Meredith’s eyes sparkling again. “Um, well, we’ll know about his table manners sooner rather than later,” Meredith said, blushing again. “We’re to go to his house for dinner. Tomorrow night.” “We?” Dylan asked. “Yes. He asked about you. I said you were a friend, visiting. He invited both of us.” “Hmm,” Dylan said, wondering what Ladislaw had planned. He also knew that Meredith would need distracting, or she’d move her anxiety over to tomorrow’s dinner. “Well, that leaves us the rest of the evening. I vote we have a swim now. How about fresh lobster for dinner?” “That sounds delicious,” Meredith said, since Dylan had already proved himself to be quite the chef. But she had needs other than hunger. “As long as somewhere along the line we get to have sex. At least twice,” she added. Dylan laughed, already pulling her cardigan and turtleneck over her head. “Deal. But I’ve one other request, in payment for my services,” he said, grinning as she tried to look offended and failed. She stripped off her boots, skirt, and tights before answering. “And what would that be?” she asked, cocking one sexy hip as she reached behind her to unclasp her very unsexy bra. Dylan stared hungrily at her breasts as they were revealed by the falling fabric. “We burn your wardrobe,” Dylan replied, then picked Meredith up and carried her off to his ocean before she could argue with him.

144


Chapter Fourteen

Alex felt honored that Meredith had worn something so different for him, and not just once, but twice. He’d grinned broadly when he’d opened his door to find her standing there in the shortest skirt he’d ever seen her wear. Granted, it was modestly cut at right over the knee, but still. She was also wearing silk stockings instead of her usual thick tights, and high heels instead of boots. It took him a bit to tear his eyes away from her gorgeous long legs, and as he mixed Dylan and Meredith a martini each, he couldn’t for the life of him remember what she was wearing on top. Maybe nothing? he thought wistfully as he poured their drinks and headed back to his guests. What he didn’t know was that Meredith hadn’t had any choice but to wear something new for Alex—Dylan had been completely serious about getting rid of her “uniform” of tights, long skirts, turtlenecks, and cardigans. Meredith hadn’t actually let him burn them, although he’d tried. Instead she had finally, grumblingly, allowed her selkie lover to gather all of her old clothes in garbage bags, to be donated to charity. No fool, Dylan had insisted they drop the bags by Goodwill that afternoon, on their way to buy Meredith new clothes. Also no pushover, Dylan had made her get rid of everything. Meredith had to wear one of her yoga outfits—the only clothing he let her keep was her new dress, new lingerie, and workout gear—to go shopping. Knowing she felt self-conscious in her gym clothes, they’d started at Wendy’s, who was thrilled to

Denise Townsend

see them again so soon. Then they’d gone to a mall an hour away to fill out the rest of Meredith’s wardrobe. Now, instead of clothing that made her look like she might belong to a patriarchal religious cult, Meredith had fresh, modern suits with sleek cuts; an assortment of casual clothing that was still well tailored; and, at Dylan’s insistence, a wide range of lingerie and night things, the like of which Meredith had never owned. But she had to admit she felt wonderful. The soft silk of her blouse rustled against her skin as she reached out for the gin martini Alex offered her. Granted, she nearly spilled her drink when he replied to her thanks with a cheeky wink, but she managed to salvage it, blushing fiercely instead. Once Alex had taken his own seat across from Dylan and Meredith, he raised his glass in a toast. They were seated in a small, comfortable corner of Alex’s vast living room that housed two love seats set up around a narrow coffee table. An enormous painting of a woman and a black swan by Tara McPherson loomed on the wall above Alex’s head. “To new friends and to old friendships redefined,” Alex said, and his guests clinked their glasses with his. When they sat back, Alex smiled at the couple across from him. “It’s nice to meet you properly, Dylan,” Alex said. “And yourself,” Dylan said, smiling and exuding as much friendliness as he could. He didn’t want Alex to see him as competition. “I’ve been trying to place that accent, but it’s confusing. Not quite Scottish, not quite Irish…” “I’m from those parts, but farther north. I’ve mostly lived on the sea,” Dylan said vaguely. “Ah. And how do you know Meredith?”

146


Ocean’s Touch

“Oh, we just met. I like her beach,” Dylan said, causing Meredith to blush an even deeper shade of red. “I’m sure you do,” Alex said, smiling. “And how long are you staying?” Meredith couldn’t help but wonder why he was so carefully grilling Dylan about questions she’d already answered at their lunch the day before. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave soon,” Dylan said, smiling at Meredith as he did so. “I’ve got other commitments. But I’d like to come back, if I could, to visit again.” “It’s a shame you have to go so soon,” Alex lied, but not with malice. He did genuinely like the dark-haired man seated across from him, and he didn’t feel at all as if he was in competition with Dylan. For some reason, Alex knew that Dylan was serious when he said he had other commitments. Yet Alex couldn’t help but want Meredith to himself, a feeling that surprised him. He was normally not particularly possessive about his lovers, a fact that tended to drive them crazy. They wanted him to want them, and they couldn’t understand his belief that desire and possession were two separate things. The threesome continued to make small talk until Sarah, Alex’s cook and the daughter of Mrs. Casaubon’s “girl”, called them in to dinner. Meredith had no doubt that her former mother-in-law would hear all about her visit to Alex’s, something that filled Meredith with equal measures of dread and anticipation. They sat at a small, round table that had been set up on the other side of the living room. It was more intimate than a dining room, and Meredith couldn’t help but notice the presence of a long bench set up beneath one of the windows. It was very similar to the one on which Alex had caught her with Dylan, and she felt a tightness in her chest at the sight of it. In fact, the whole room was littered with clusters of furniture, set up so that a party could gather into small groups,


147

Denise Townsend

but a lot of the furniture was chaise lounges, benches, ottomans, or those large, padded-fabric coffee tables that could easily double as beds. They seated themselves around the table, Alex helping Meredith with her chair before taking his own. Soon enough, their first course arrived—a beautiful spread of raw or barely steamed seafood, with different dipping sauces. All three of them tucked in with gusto, and for the next half hour, all conversations except those having to do with the deliciousness of the food ceased. During dinner, however, Meredith couldn’t stop watching the two men eat. She loved the catlike quality they both exhibited. There was something delightfully finicky about the way Alex ate that was just like Dylan. Both men ate European style, with both fork and knife. And, like Dylan, Alex made sure that each forkful of food had the perfect balance of seafood and sauce. Their focus, meanwhile, was almost wholly on the food, but not in a way that spoke of gluttony. Rather, it spoke of an intensity of pleasure, of an ability to enjoy physical satisfaction in a way that was unapologetic. Poor Teddy always choked down his food like it was sawdust, Meredith remembered, sadly. She’d only now to come to realize how stunted her husband had been, despite his greatness of mind. He’d never been allowed to feel pleasure. I doubt he knew how. In contrast, the men in front of her knew how to eat—with unabashed and greedy pleasure, yet with grace. Dylan eats like he makes love, Meredith realized. Her selkie was just as greedy and carnal with her body, and just as thorough and capable. Her eyes moved to watch Alex smile in pleasure as he chewed. Does Alex make love like Dylan, then? Meredith wondered, feeling a hot flood of lust in her belly. She felt her cheeks redden as she lowered her gaze to her plate, continuing to eat in silence although her body still thrummed.

148


Ocean’s Touch

When the main course—a beautiful confit of duck served with creamed spinach and roasted root vegetables—had been delivered and consumed with as much pleasure as the first, Alex turned to Meredith. His gaze on her was like a warm, soft touch. She shivered, another warm rush of desire coursing through her cunt. “I hope you don’t think I was too forward, questioning you as I did the other day.” Meredith smiled at him, trying to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want Alex to know how much she craved him. “Not at all. It was good actually,” she said. “What did you talk about?” Dylan asked, careful to send out nonaggressive waves so Alex knew Dylan was curious, not jealous. “Alex asked me about the PhD. work I was doing before I met Teddy. And about my plans. I told him about the row I had with Teddy’s mother at the meeting.” “Ah,” Dylan said. “That was probably helpful.” “It was, yes.” Meredith affirmed. “It kick-started my thinking about what I want to do with myself now that I’ll have more time. And I really need to think all of that through. I need to have a plan in place; otherwise, Teddy’s mother will steamroll me back into the same position I was in before.” Meredith bit off her sentence as Sarah and her helper came back into the room with another loaded tray. This one held dessert, and Sarah’s helper cleared dinner plates as Sarah laid out a scrumptious assortment of petit fours, along with chocolate-dipped and plain-sliced fruits. Finally, Sarah laid out dessert plates, and then turned to her employer. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Green,” Alex said. “Everything was delicious. You can have the rest of the night off, along with the rest of the staff.”


149

Denise Townsend

Meredith felt her heart beat faster, wondering if this was a normal occurrence, or if Alex had something special planned for the evening. “Are you sure, Mr. Ladislaw?” Sarah asked, giving Meredith a long sideeye. Mrs. Casaubon was definitely going to hear about this little soiree. “Absolutely. The rest of the dishes can be done in the morning. I’d like the house to myself, please.” “Well, if that’s what you want, we’ll leave you alone. Trish!” Sarah said, hustling her helper out before her and closing the large doors to the living room as she did so. Meredith couldn’t help but notice the long, hard look Sarah gave her. Meredith sighed. You better make this evening worth the trouble, she told Alex silently. And what, exactly, do I mean by that? The thought was troubling. Did she want a repeat of the tower room? Maybe more? “Please, help yourselves,” Alex said, as he gestured toward the dessert. “And may I offer you a nip of whisky, as a digestif?” Both Meredith and Dylan said yes, and Alex poured them all a dram of Balvenie as they tucked into the desserts. “I’m glad you said what you did about having a plan, Meredith,” Alex said as he placed her whisky in front of her. “And I’ve been thinking about what we talked about at lunch.” Meredith sipped her drink, watching Alex curiously as he placed Dylan’s dram down on the table. Alex seated himself before continuing. Now I’ll know what he wants from me, she hoped. Meredith wasn’t sure what she wanted that something to be, and she was rather shocked at some of the more extreme fantasies her imagination paraded in front of her. But she knew she wanted a little clarity, after a week of so many things that had once been black and white going all shades of gray.

150


Ocean’s Touch

“We always talk about the fact that there are no real galleries around here. There are tourist traps, and some local artists are doing some decent things. But there’s no real art.” Meredith nodded, unsure where Alex was headed with this line of conversation. Also, she did think what the locals were doing was art, but she knew what Alex meant. It wasn’t art that challenged, or broadened perspectives, or pushed boundaries. It was safe art, decorative art. “I’ve been thinking for a while of opening up a gallery, here, that’s an offshoot of a gallery I own in New York. It’ll contain the same artists, but we’ll hand-select from those pieces, in order to place what’s best for each location in that location. So what’s more likely to sell in New York will stay in New York; what’s more likely to sell here will travel.” Meredith frowned. “You’ll have to be very select. I know we always complain about the galleries here, but they’re like that for a reason. It’s what a lot of locals and tourists like.” Alex nodded his agreement. “It will be a challenge, but I don’t think we’re the only people either living here or coming through here that like something different. Plus, it could become something of a destination. Really serious collectors would come out here to vacation and visit the gallery. And if they don’t want to make the hike, there’s always the internet.” “It could work,” Meredith agreed. “But you’d need…” Before she’d finished, Alex interrupted her. “I’ll need someone who knows art and knows this region. I’ll need you.” There was silence, as Meredith got stuck on the fact Alex had just said, I need you, and not at all in the context in which she wanted to hear it. When she finally spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. “Alex, I don’t know what to say. I hardly think I’m qualified…”


151

Denise Townsend

“Nonsense,” Alex said. “Everyone knows what you did for Teddy. You had no idea how to run his estate, but you learned. And that experience gives you everything you need to know, virtually, to run a gallery. I know you’re good with money. I know you’re good at organizing. I know you’re flexible, and that you know the region.” As Alex talked, Meredith felt a strange sensation. It took her a minute to realize that she wanted to strangle Alex with her bare hands. Of all the ways I imagined this evening progressing, she thought, it wasn’t into a business deal. She’d let herself believe, for just a second, that Alex might actually want her. Now she knew how stupid she’d been. He wants me for my brains, just like Teddy. Dylan, meanwhile, could feel the tension ratcheting up in Meredith, and he knew her well enough at this point to know what she was thinking. He also knew how wrong she was—the feelings coming off Alex were the same they’d always been toward Meredith. Alex wanted her—he was just going about it the way he thought would be least frightening to Teddy’s widow. Meredith, however, wasn’t just “Teddy’s widow” anymore. “I need,” Alex finished, thinking he was sealing Meredith’s interest up tight with his carefully rehearsed final line, “someone practical, Meredith. Someone like you.” Instead of standing up and bowing and gladly accepting her position, as Alex had expected, Meredith looked at him coldly “Thank you for the offer, Alex. While I’m pleased you think so highly of my organizational skills, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” Alex looked at Meredith in confusion, realizing too late that he’d badly misjudged his approach.

152


Ocean’s Touch

“I’ve offended you,” he said. “I don’t know how, but I have. Please, tell me what I’ve done.” Dylan hastily sent out calming vibes, as Meredith visibly gathered her self-control. “You called me ‘practical’,” she said in the same voice she might have said, “You called me a chipmunk-faced space dog.” It was Alex’s turn to look confused. Dylan sighed. “I’m sorry. I meant it as a compliment,” Alex began, but it was Meredith’s turn to interrupt. “Well, it’s not a compliment. It’s what everyone says when they mean I’m boring. And I’m not boring. Or practical,” Meredith said, her face growing red with a combination of embarrassment and frustration. “I am far more than just practical,” Meredith finished finally. Then she looked into Alex’s eyes, her own shining with a combination of rebelliousness and fear of rejection. Alex sat staring back at Meredith. Dylan felt the red-haired man sorting through his own emotions as he thought through what Meredith had just said, along with everything she hadn’t said. With relief, Dylan suddenly felt a rush of feeling from Alex that signaled the man had almost certainly come to the right conclusion. Alex radiated desire and tenderness as he finally spoke. “I could tell you how utterly, deliciously impractical I know you are, Merry. Or I could show you.” Meredith’s eyes grew wide as Alex stood to offer her his hand. “And I’d much rather show you.”


153

Chapter Fifteen

Meredith stared up in confusion at Alex’s proffered hand. One minute he’s offering me a job because I’m practical, and the next minute he’s offering to make me his lover? Meredith thought. What’s his logic now? Because I’m sitting on his sofa and wearing stockings? Is that what I get to be to him—his secretary or his whore? Dylan could feel Meredith’s ire rising on the heels of her confusion. While she wanted Alex, he’d managed to use the two worst approaches possible to woo her. It was a typical problem with humans. On the one hand, Dylan couldn’t help but be amused and exasperated at their inability to communicate with each other. Because his own people were empaths, there was no point in lying or trying to hide one’s feelings. They rarely ever needed to talk to one another, as so much communication could be done through their emotional responses to stimuli. Humans, however, seemed never to say anything they actually felt, a particularly silly strategy considering their short lifespans. On the other hand, Dylan also recognized the other side of their dilemma, and acknowledged human bravery when it came to love. It was easy to judge them from the perspective of an empath, and to see their reticence in communicating as silly or self-defeating. But over the years he’d come to realize just how vulnerable were humans. They had no way of knowing whether the person they loved was honest with them or lied to them about their feelings. And

Ocean’s Touch

yet humans risked their hearts all the time by offering them up like sacrifices to inscrutable gods. So Dylan broke his own rules, and he cheated. It was only a little bit of cheating. He didn’t use glamour to make Meredith or Alex feel differently from how they truly felt, but Dylan did purposely change the emotion in the air. He radiated sincerity into the room, making Alex want to be honest with Meredith in a way he wasn’t used to. Dylan understood men like Alex—Dylan had been very similar to the human male in his younger years. The fact was, Alex was used to charm and reputation paving the way for him. He rarely had to examine his own feelings, let alone express them. That a woman had never yet moved him deeply, didn’t bother Alex. He had enough distractions in his life, including enough playmates, that he’d never felt the loss of not having bonded with another person. The fact that Meredith had always gotten under his skin; that he’d always been oddly cranky about Teddy, and riled up over the way Meredith had changed over the years; that he kept comparing his lovers to a “mystery” ideal whose dark eyes held a sadness he wanted so badly to erase—he’d let these facts slide unexamined over the surface of his mind. But Dylan changed that with a nudge of his empathic powers. Suddenly, Alex wanted to examine those feelings, those reactions, those stray thoughts he’d been ignoring for all of those years. Suddenly, Alex wanted to be honest with himself and with Meredith. Meredith, meanwhile, needed to be calmed down. Dylan did that, ratcheting down her tension by sending out calming waves of energy. At the same time, Dylan opened Alex and Meredith up to one another, so that Meredith could feel Alex’s true intentions behind his admittedly rather fumbled playboy strategies. And Alex could feel what Meredith felt—her desire


155

Denise Townsend

for Alex clouded by her confusion, her affection for him tempered by her fear of rejection. As Dylan linked the two, he gloried in the depth of their feelings for one another. Dylan couldn’t help but liken their emotions to a good stew—their feelings had been simmering for so long that the depth of flavor was delicious to Dylan’s empathic capabilities. He watched as both Meredith and Alex “tasted” what Dylan did, their eyes growing wide at that tender intimation of the other’s true feelings. Meredith spoke first. “I don’t understand,” she said with utter honesty. “I don’t know what you want from me.” Alex paused, suddenly wanting to examine his own heart in order to answer her truly. What he found there surprised him. “I think I want everything from you,” Alex said, his voice holding a note of awe at what the woman before him made him feel. “But I’ll take whatever you offer me.” And then Alex did what he felt was right—he knelt before Meredith like a supplicant, catlike green eyes holding hers with a gentle, imploring gaze she’d never seen in them before. Meanwhile, Meredith’s brain was curiously quiet. While Alex’s claim that he wanted everything from her should have scared her, she felt the truth behind his words. He didn’t want to dictate to her as Teddy had, or possess her as if she were Pygmalion’s statue to be carved into perfection. Alex meant he wanted her as she was. And while he wanted her to be his in a way she knew shocked him, he wanted her partially because she was independent. Meredith could feel his affection for the woman she was, not for some woman Alex wanted her to be. And that woman wanted him right back.

156


Ocean’s Touch

So Meredith reached forward, running gentle fingertips over his forehead, down his cheek, and over the soft bristles of his rakish goatee. Her fingertips lingered over his lips, and he kissed them gently. Dylan felt that most powerful lust, the kind that can only be built on true affection, blossom before him. He smiled as Meredith leaned forward to look into Alex’s eyes. “I want you,” she said simply. But her emotions carried to Alex a complex tide of emotions—different currents representing her physical lust for him, her desire to see his world, her affection for him…an affection that was quickly edging into love. Alex reacted physically in very typical Alex-fashion. He buried his hands in her hair with practiced ease and pulled her toward him for a kiss. But as he kissed her, he let her feel what he’d found buried deep in his heart. The fact that he already loved her. And always had, if he was honest. He’d loved her since she’d swung up to him, all coltish legs and giggling intelligence, at the party where Teddy had first introduced them. He’d loved her despite her love for another man, and he’d loved her even more when she’d risen to every challenge Teddy and his mother had set before her. And his heart had nearly broken for her when Teddy had grown ill, and she’d faced even that horrific battle like a knight of old. And he’d loved her for surviving that lost war, both in heart and mind. So while Alex’s kiss was practiced, the passion he felt was new. He’d never really wanted anyone the way he wanted Meredith. The way he’d always wanted Meredith. Meredith’s heart raced as her lips met Alex’s. The kiss was perfect—but then a man with Alex’s experience should kiss well. Instead, what made the kiss perfect was what he felt for her. She felt bathed in his love, and her own


157

Denise Townsend

tentative, scared affection for him couldn’t help but blossom under such nurturing emotion. Suddenly, however, Alex broke the kiss. His hands moved down to rest on the soft silk of her stocking-clad knees as he turned to Dylan. “I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I seem to be seducing your date.” For a moment, Alex’s artists’ sight veiled his vision, and the man who sat across from them at the dining table was no man, but an iron-haired sea god, clad only in a cloak of sealskin. The man’s onyx eyes were fixed on Alex, and for a split second Alex glimpsed eternity. And then the vision was gone, and Dylan was a handsome human male wearing a dinner jacket. “To be honest,” Dylan said, letting both Alex and Meredith feel the truth of his words, “I’d like nothing more than to see the two of you happy.” Meredith blinked back tears, knowing that her selkie lover had made this night possible. She’d never have been ready for Alex—for the intensity of his feelings, for the sexual challenge he represented, or for the changes in her own life that he symbolized—if Dylan hadn’t come to her first. So Meredith did what she felt was right in that moment. She reached out a hand for Dylan and then looked down at Alex. Who only smiled hungrily in response before pulling her to her feet. Dirty bugger, she thought affectionately, her own lust rising in her belly as Alex pulled her toward one of those huge, padded coffee-table-cum-ottomans. Dirty, delicious bugger, she thought as she followed him, grabbing Dylan’s hand and pulling him up with them. Alex pushed the fanned-out stack of magazines off the padded table, then sprawled out on it, leaving room for Dylan, who joined him. Rather handily, and probably not accidentally, the “table” was the exact size of a queen-sized bed, and looked equally as comfortable.

158


Ocean’s Touch

Dirty, delicious, brilliant bugger, Meredith thought, as the lust in her belly spread through her limbs like Greek fire. That left both men watching Meredith, who suddenly felt deeply selfconscious. “Strip for us,” Alex said, his green eyes dark with desire. Meredith looked at Dylan, who smiled encouragingly. The selkie also let her feel both his and Alex’s lust. She could pull her clothes off like she was getting ready for bed and they wouldn’t care—they wanted her, not an experienced stripper. Not that they’d say no to a striptease, mind. So Meredith did her best. The hunger in their eyes and their emotions helped, but she wasn’t a natural exhibitionist. It took quite a bit of courage for her to start undoing the buttons her blouse. Then she undid the buttons at her wrists, before letting the garment fall off her shoulders. Alex sighed as she did so and moved his hand to rub his cock through the fabric of his pants. Meredith watched him, riveted as she’d been before by the sight. Of him touching himself Then Meredith undid the hook-and-eye at the back of her skirt, before slowly lowering the zipper. The sound it made was loud in the quiet room, and Meredith felt her cunt throb. Both men reacted to the sound as well—Alex undid the top button of his trousers, and Dylan’s encouraging smile dissolved as he watched her intently, lust in his eyes. Keeping a careful grip on her skirt, Meredith lowered it slowly, teasingly, down her legs. She bent over as she did so, knowing the men would appreciate a view of her cleavage, but also because it kept hidden her sexy garter belt and panties.


159

Denise Townsend

Alex groaned, unzipping his own pants and reaching a hand inside as Meredith slowly straightened, then stepped out of her skirt. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, as he pulled free his cock. She could feel his approving gaze roving over her body as if it were hands. “So are you,” she said, her voice oddly husky as she watched him pump his thick shaft with his fist. “Come here,” he commanded, and she happily did so. Dylan pulled his own, already hard cock free as Meredith sauntered toward them. He loved the hungry look in her eyes, the way she licked her lips when she saw him masturbating in front of her. “Suck our cocks,” Alex whispered, as Meredith knelt between him and Dylan. Meredith’s only reply was to reach out both of her hands, grasping him and Dylan in one warm fist each. She explored them with her hands and eyes, first, noting their differences. Both had gorgeous cocks—Dylan’s slightly bigger, but Alex’s somehow prettier. Both men moaned at her first soft touch, and then kept moaning. Dylan had already noticed that Meredith had exceptionally talented, gentle hands, and she was very sensitive to his desires—adjusting her grip slightly with his moans, paying attention if he moved her hand or otherwise indicated something felt better or worse. In other words, she brought all of her keen intelligence and gifts of observation into the bedroom with her, meaning that while she might not have been very experienced, her natural talents more than made up for it. Meanwhile, Meredith’s senses and thoughts were reeling. Part of her couldn’t believe that she was doing this, but another part of her felt as if her

160


Ocean’s Touch

actions were utterly natural. Alex and Dylan weren’t just any men, and what they were doing felt right. It felt good. She also knew she could back out. She had no doubt that if she walked away now, neither man would think less of her. They’d be disappointed, surely, but not in any critical way. Do I want to walk away? she thought. No. I want this, she realized. The fact was, she loved having these two men at her mercy. She loved knowing she could pleasure them. She loved knowing that she cared for both of them, albeit in very different ways, and that she could give each of them a part of herself, along with pleasure. Meredith also knew she’d take quite a bit of pleasure in return. With one last caress of her hand, Meredith lowered her lips to Alex’s cock, still keeping one patient hand around Dylan’s. She wanted this.


161

Chapter Sixteen

That first taste of Alex’s cock was heaven. A fat drop of precome awaited Meredith’s lapping tongue, and his groan at its warm, wet touch gratified her deeply. She kept gently stroking Dylan, not forgetting her selkie lover as she let her mouth take in more of Alex’s cock. He kept groaning as she took in all of him that she could. Then his fingers were in her hair, pulling her back to lift her face to him. He kissed her lips hungrily, his voice ragged as he spoke. “You make me feel like a teenager again,” he growled. “I could come right now if you touched me.” Her only response was a slow, deliberate pump of his cock with the hand that had been resting on his balls. He moaned, his face spasming in a rictus of pleasure as he let go of her hair and leaned back on his hands on the padded table. “You’re killing me,” he groaned as she lowered her lips to him again. Sucking him gently into her mouth, she worked him with her tongue as she fucked his cock in and out of her lips. It was only when he begged her to stop, his hips bucking, that she pulled away. Part of her wanted that power over him—to make him come despite himself—but another part wanted to make this last. So she shifted slightly, still keeping one soft hand on Alex’s cock, to where Dylan awaited her.

Ocean’s Touch

His lovely, if glamoured, eyes smiled at her, and for the first time she wished to see him as he truly was, to kiss his true lips. But she knew there’d be too much to explain to Alex, so instead she merely returned Dylan’s smile with all the affection she felt for him. “Oh, Mer,” he murmured as she lowered her warm mouth to Dylan’s cock. He felt different from Alex—fuller and with that distinctive taste and smell of the sea that he always carried with him. But soon he too was moaning for her lips and tongue, as she caressed his hard length, both hands stroking her men as her mouth worked Dylan’s cock. When he was shaking beneath her, she withdrew, only to return to Alex. He groaned for her again as she pumped down on him. Only after he physically pulled her away did she return to Dylan, loving her ability to make these two men whom she cared for in such different ways both strain and cry out for her body. She loved the power, yes. But she also loved the intimacy. And she was surprised at that fact. Had she been asked about a threesome a month ago, she would have answered that obviously it was loveless—just some stunt dreamed up by porn directors to keep punters interested. Never could she have imagined how intimate it could feel. How she felt like she was sharing herself, in the most private and personal of ways, with two men who were sharing with her in kind. Meredith knew that not all threesomes could be like this, and that many would be as banal as she’d thought them to be. But that’s the nature of sex, she realized. It can mean everything and nothing, depending on whom it’s with. So she felt only joy as Dylan lifted her mouth off his cock again, finding her lips with his for a breathless kiss.


163

Denise Townsend

“No more, lass. I can’t take it. And I think it’s your turn. Dylan stood, spinning her about so that she fell, laughing, onto the soft, padded table. Just like she’d thought, it felt even more comfortable than her bed at home. Alex rolled to his side so he lay next to her, head propped up on his hand as his eyes feasted on her body. Meredith ran her hand down his shirtfront. “Off,” she commanded. Alex grinned, scooting down and off the table to stand next to Dylan. It was Meredith’s turn to watch, and she pushed up onto her elbows to do so. Alex kicked off his shoes as Dylan took a step backwards, so he was out of range of Alex’s peripheral sight. As Alex rather awkwardly, if adorably, pulled off his socks, Dylan made a series of funny gestures that ended with his glamour dissipating in a shower of illusionary sparks. Meredith giggled and Alex turned around, only to find his co-lover entirely naked. “How did you…” Alex began as Dylan moved to stretch out next to Meredith. “Magic,” Dylan said, winking at Alex as Dylan’s hand found Meredith’s satin-covered breast. Dylan kissed and suckled Meredith’s neck, his fingers plucking at her nipples, but Meredith never took her eyes off Alex. Even when her questing fingers found Dylan’s hard cock, she never removed her gaze. Now that the shoe was being taken off the other foot, Alex felt suddenly shy. He suspected his fingers were actually shaking as he unbuttoned his shirt, and then peeled it away from his body. As his trousers were already undone, it took but a little push and a hip shimmy to send them sliding to the floor. He’d

164


Ocean’s Touch

eschewed underwear that evening because he was a great believer in the adage, “If you build it, she will come.” Meredith’s eyes, meanwhile, roved over Alex’s body. She acknowledged that he wasn’t as perfect as Dylan was. But neither was Alex magical and immortal. And he was absolutely gorgeous to her. A little on the slender side and very much on the pale side, she could see just how his lanky body would fit against hers. His broad shoulders and long arms would hold her tight, his lean hips fitting snuggly between her soft thighs. Alex was perfectly, imperfectly human, and she felt another hot surge of wetness flood her cunt at the thought that she was lucky enough to enjoy him. That warm wetness was followed by another bolt of lust as Alex moved toward her, then knelt between her knees on the padded table. With practiced fingers, he unclipped her garter belt from her stockings and reached for her panties. She lifted her hips for Alex as he slid the satin down her thighs, pulling her high heels off with them. While they looked sexy, Alex was a practical man and didn’t want anyone losing an eye. Her shoes thudded to the floor, taking her underwear with them. She was almost entirely naked. “Take off her bra,” Alex told Dylan, moving upwards between Meredith’s thighs, which parted accommodatingly for him. Dylan swiftly obliged, reaching behind Meredith and undoing her bra strap, sliding it down her arms. He tossed it away, as Alex’s eyes roved over her naked torso. “Beautiful,” Alex whispered as he reached a hand forward to pluck at her soft brown nipple. Meredith moaned at his touch, despite Dylan’s previous ministrations. These were Alex’s fingers tugging gently at her flesh. Then she moaned again as Alex leaned forward to take her nipple with his lips.


165

Denise Townsend

The feel of his hot mouth sucking on her sensitive flesh made Meredith arch her back. Then she moaned again as Dylan’s dark head joined Alex’s at her other breast. The sensation was almost too much. And then Alex’s fingers found her cunt. She was soaked, and he grunted in pleasure at feeling her so wet. He’d wanted to tease her forever, but he couldn’t stand it. He had to taste her. Kissing down her soft side, Alex nipped at her hip bones gently, loving her body with its long hard muscles and soft, womanly curves. Meanwhile, he continued gently to explore her cunt with his fingers. Pushing between her wet lips, he brushed against her clit, causing her to shiver. Then one long finger pushed inside her, and she shivered again. Alex loved how sensitive she was, how tightly her cunt gripped even his single finger. He felt like a kid in a candy store, not knowing what treat to have first, wanting everything at the same time. Taking a deep breath, however, Alex remembered that now was Meredith’s turn. Moving the last few inches down her body, he breathed gently on her swollen, wanting sex. Meredith shuddered, and then groaned loudly as Alex’s tongue slid between her folds. When his lips found her clit, she knew she was done for. Her hand once again started pumping Dylan’s cock, and his mouth found hers as he sucked the cries from between her lips. But soon she pulled away from him. “Fill my mouth,” Meredith told Dylan. “I want to suck you.” Dylan smiled at her, only too happy to oblige. He knelt next to her head, supporting her neck with his hand as he plunged his cock into her mouth. Only then could Meredith really enjoy Alex’s mouth on her sex. Before, it had been too intense; she’d wanted to come too badly. But with Dylan between her lips she could concentrate on something else and rein in her orgasm.

166


Ocean’s Touch

Which just meant Alex had to step up his game. Still flicking her clit with his tongue, Alex’s long fingers again buried deep inside her—two of them this time. He pumped her gently at first, then harder as she adjusted to him, before finally adding a third finger. Meredith moaned around Dylan’s cock, vibrating him delightfully as he slowly but firmly fucked her face. He loved seeing her like this—suffused with pleasure, that too-busy brain finally quiet as she enjoyed her body. She radiated sexual pleasure and fulfillment and a deep peace that was at complete odds with the overstressed, self-doubting woman he’d first made love to at the beginning of the week. And when Meredith opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling around his cock, Dylan nearly came. And he nearly came again when he saw Meredith shudder, her orgasm nearly upon her. Feeling another warm wash of wetness as Meredith’s cunt pulsed around his fingers, Alex upped his ante. Using his free hand, he gently rubbed Meredith’s own wetness over her asshole before gently pushing one finger inside her. It was too much. Having Dylan in her mouth, with Alex’s fingers in her cunt and now her ass, she couldn’t hold back. Wailing her pleasure, her back arched as she let go of Dylan’s cock to flop back onto the soft padding. Then she wailed again, waves of pleasure bowing her body as Alex used his fingers and tongue to keep her orgasm fierce. He didn’t stop until she begged him. And even then he didn’t stop. Instead, Alex moved up her body, Dylan giving him space. The selkie took his cock in hand, watching Meredith’s face as Alex roughly shoved her legs apart.


167

Denise Townsend

“I want to fuck you,” Alex told Meredith, his hand taking a firm grip on her chin as he made her look into her eyes. She was still breathless, her gaze unfocused, but his words brought her back to earth. “Mmm,” she moaned, raising her hips to his. He rubbed his cock against her, but didn’t penetrate. Instead he moved his hand to her hair. “I want to fuck you,” he repeated. “And I want to know you want to be fucked. Do you want to be fucked, Meredith?” “Yes,” she whispered. “I want you to fuck me.” “Tell me again,” he said, “louder. And say my name.” “I want you to fuck me,” she repeated, with more volume. “Alex,” she added, clearly challenging him as she raised her hips sharply, feeling just the tip of him enter her tight heat. “You are a bad girl,” Alex said, his voice strained. “I’ll have to work at making you sweet,” he mock-threatened, pushing just a little more of his hard cock inside her before withdrawing. “Do you really want me to be sweet?” Meredith asked, her voice husky with her own desire. “Hell no,” Alex said, just as he slammed into her warm, wet depths. They both moaned, then held each other for a few seconds, each regaining control and Meredith adjusting to his sudden invasion. She loved the way he took her, and she wasn’t disappointed when he finally withdrew, only to slam into her again. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Alex groaned, his lips finding hers. They kissed as he pumped into her, Meredith straining to meet his every thrust. She protested noisily when he suddenly withdrew, standing and pulling her to her own two feet.

168


Ocean’s Touch

But her protestations were short lived, for soon Alex took her own spot on the padded table. She realized what he wanted, and she straddled him before he was completely settled. Alex wasn’t the only one who had a few tricks up his sleeves, and he gasped as she slid down his hard cock with nary a “by your leave”. She took him almost out of her body a few more times, before practically falling on his cock, causing him to clench his fists and think of baseball statistics. Soon, however, she set a gentle rhythm around him, rocking up and down and letting him enjoy her wet, clasping sex. Dylan watched the lovers, enjoying feeling and seeing the pleasure they were experiencing. But Meredith wasn’t done with him. The look she gave him was equal measures bold and unsure. She wasn’t sure how, but she wanted him involved. And Dylan was never a selkie to disappoint. Moving to kneel behind Meredith, Dylan began stroking his hand down her neck and back to let her know he was there and to relax her. Eventually, he pushed her forward, very gently so that she was almost lying on Alex’s chest. He used his magic to call their bottle of erotic oil, fairly certain Alex was too distracted to notice it appear as if out of thin air. Meredith shivered as she felt the familiar sensation of oil running over her backside. Now that she realized what he intended, she wasn’t sure she could do what he wanted. But she trusted him, and knew he would never do anything to her she didn’t enjoy. So she tried to keep up her gentle thrusts down onto Alex’s cock, but it became more difficult when she felt first one, then two of Dylan’s fingers slide up her ass. Meredith mewled in a combination of surprise and pleasure, looking down at Alex with eyes gone wide.


169

Denise Townsend

“Are you sure about this?” Alex whispered, kissing her lips gently. Meredith nodded, shivering as Dylan added a third finger to her ass. “If you change your mind, just tell me,” Alex told her, shuddering himself as Meredith’s already tight cunt became even tighter with the addition of Dylan’s fingers in her backside. “I will,” Meredith whispered, then closed her eyes, gasping as Dylan’s hard cock started to push into her ass. Meredith’s movements on Alex stilled as she dropped her head onto his chest, feeling a thousand sensations at once. Alex ran his hands gently, tenderly through her hair, struggling to maintain control as he felt Dylan’s own hard length pushing up into Meredith, their two cocks separated by only the thinnest barrier. Only when Dylan was fully inside her, and her mewls of mixed pain and pleasure had quieted, did Alex gently thrust his hips. Meredith gasped again, but this time with bliss. She felt so full, so intensely pleasured and pleasurable. She’d never felt that sexy in her life, and she couldn’t help but smile at Alex in awe. He laughed joyously as he thrust again, unable to believe he’d found this sexual tigress buried in Meredith’s widow’s weeds. She was perfect—a true partner for him in both the daytime and the nighttime. Alex thrust again and again, barely managing to maintain control when Dylan also began thrusting, very slowly and very gently, into Meredith’s ass. She was on a sexual high at that point, teetering so precipitously on the edge of orgasm that she wasn’t sure whether she was already falling. When she felt Alex’s finger slip between their sweaty bodies to find her clit, it was over. She came crashing over that edge, screaming out her pleasure as she did so.

170


Ocean’s Touch

Feeling her cunt clenching on his cock and feeling the warm wet rush of Meredith’s orgasm, Alex let himself go. He ground his hips up into hers, feeling his come simmering in his balls before shooting out of him. Meredith’s orgasm only intensified at feeling Alex’s hot spunk jetting into her, and her ass clenched around Dylan. Growling low in his throat, Dylan pulled her back against him, enveloping her body with his as he thrust hard into her backside once, twice, before spending himself deep inside her. Dylan set his teeth gently to her shoulder, biting her as he withdrew his cock from her ass. Meredith whimpered, then collapsed forward onto Alex. He happily let her lie on top of him, her cunt still weakly milking his cock as he very gently stroked his hands over every inch of her he could reach. Dylan flopped down on his back next to them, panting. After a few minutes, Alex spoke. “Thirsty, anyone?” Both Dylan and Meredith emitted throaty affirmations. “Excellent. How about we have some refreshments—there’s still dessert, after all. And then I have a rather large shower upstairs that’s more than big enough for three.” Meredith giggled as Alex drummed gently on her backside with his open hands. “We can get cleaned up, and then we can go into my bedroom. Where I’m also lucky enough to have a very large bed.” “Round two?” Meredith asked, nipping gently at Alex’s bearded chin. “At least,” Dylan rumbled from beside them, where he was sprawled with his forearm over his eyes. “Maybe even round three,” Alex said, grinning at her cheekily.


171

Denise Townsend

“Mmm,” Meredith said, snuggling down into Alex’s body. “I like how you play. Can I come over more often?” “You’ll be lucky if I ever let you leave,” was Alex’s only response. And Dylan let her feel that Alex meant every word.

172


Chapter Seventeen

Meredith awoke to the unfamiliar tickle of a beard at the nape of her neck, and the even more unfamiliar feeling that she wasn’t in her own bed. After a few seconds of confusion, she remembered. I’m at Alex’s, she thought. And the facial hair belongs to him. As did the arms that held her tightly. After making love for the last time last night, she’d taken a long, lingering shower with Alex. He’d bathed her gently, kissing her the whole time. Any buried doubts she may have had about their threesome were eradicated by his nurturing behavior. When they’d finished, Dylan had taken his turn in the shower. She and Alex had tumbled into bed and he’d wrapped himself around her as if she were a Faberge egg. That’s the last thing she remembered. But now she was wide awake, realizing that something else was wrong. Where’s Dylan? she thought, raising her head to look for him. He wasn’t in Alex’s huge bed, nor was he on any of the other sleepable surfaces in Alex’s room. Carefully, so as not to wake Alex, Meredith crept out of bed. She dressed herself in the cozy, expensive bathrobe that hung on a hook by the bathroom, before easing open the bedroom door. She walked quietly downstairs, but Dylan was nowhere. It was only then she realized where he’d gone.

Denise Townsend

With a heavy heart, Meredith went through one of the many glass doors exiting to Alex’s back yard. Like Meredith’s, Alex’s property backed up to the ocean, and his beach was only two or three lots down from hers. Just as she’d known he’d be, Dylan was sitting on his sealskin, watching the waves. He was also entirely unglamoured—his iron-grey hair floating around him like a nimbus. Meredith walked up behind him, purposely making noise on the stones of the beach even though she doubted she could creep up on someone like him. When she was close enough, she placed her hands on Dylan’s shoulders. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, although she already knew the truth. “Aye, lass,” he said, looking up at her with those fierce black eyes. His inhuman face wore a gentle expression, but it still made her shiver. Nonetheless, he was her Dylan, even with those eyes. So she knelt behind and wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll miss you,” she said, already feeling his loss even as she held him. “And I’ll miss you,” he replied. “Although I’d like to visit, if you’ll have me.” “Always,” she said. “I know the sea’s your home, but you’ll always have a place here on land, whenever you want it.” Dylan bowed his head and she felt his lips on her forearm. “Thank you,” he said. They sat like that for a few minutes, watching the sea, before Meredith’s legs protested her crouch and she stood, only to move to sit next to Dylan on his sealskin. “It’s I who should thank you,” she said eventually. “You’ve changed my life.”

174


Ocean’s Touch

“No,” Dylan replied. “You changed your life. And you would have anyway, eventually, without my help.” “I don’t know about that. I was so stuck.” “Aye, you were. But you were open to me. I could never, and would never, have come to you like that if you weren’t ready.” They fell silent as Meredith thought through Dylan’s words. “The way I feel when I’m with you, like I can sense you, and sense Alex, that’ll go away, won’t it?” she asked. “Aye,” he said. “That’s a gift of my people. It will leave when I do.” Meredith frowned. “You didn’t…” “Make you feel differently than you really did?” Meredith shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean that. I know my feelings were my own. But Alex?” Her voice held a subtle throb of fear that made Dylan sad. “After all we’ve done, all we’ve felt for each other, the three of us, you still doubt you deserve that man’s love?” Meredith blushed, looking down at her feet. “Oh, lass, you’re hopeless,” Dylan said, pulling her tight to his body. “He loves you for who you are, and he always has. Yes, things will be different when I leave. He’s a man used to keeping his emotions tight to his chest. But he wants you, and he’s ready for you, which is the most important thing. You’ll just have to be brave, and make him talk on some occasions. And accept his silence on others.” Meredith snuggled against Dylan. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for doubting your actions.”


175

Denise Townsend

“It’s not me you’re doubting, really. It’s yourself. So stop it,” Dylan said, using a mock-commanding voice that made Meredith giggle. Then she looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. “What will happen between us?” she asked. Dylan knew she meant between herself and Alex. “I’ve no idea, sweet girl. I know he cares for you, and you care for him. But life can’t be told like a story. You’ll have to be brave and love him, really love him. And never forget how you feel, right now, or how he made you feel last night. When you’re arguing about something important, something that feels like it’s everything, remember last night. That felt like everything too.” Meredith blushed, undoubtedly remembering all the everythings last night contained. “But nothing is ever everything,” Dylan warned. “Things will happen— misunderstandings, grievances, hurts. And sometimes they’ll seem bigger than what’s good. But that’s only if you let them be” “What about his parties? The women?” Dylan chuckled. “That’s going to be a conversation you two need to have. Your Alex will never be a boy scout, lass. But he wants you, and he knows things need to change in his own life to have you. Just be sure of what you want, and try to be sensitive to the life he’s led. And don’t forget our lovemaking,” Dylan warned. “Things aren’t always black and white, especially when it comes to desire and sex. There may be people with whom you can have what the three of us had last night, satisfying both your desires. Just be open, and keep talking, and try to be honest with yourself as well as with him.” Meredith nodded at Dylan’s words, although she couldn’t help but smile as she mentally applied them to her own life.

176


Ocean’s Touch

“Teddy’s mother is going to be at constant risk of a heart attack if I really do take up with Alex.” Dylan laughed. “Yes, well, sometimes even Dragons meet their match. And I don’t think you have to worry about if Alex takes up with you. I think the issue’s going to be whether he can keep up with you.” Meredith laughed again, delightedly. “I have become rather fierce,” she mused, blushing red at her own audacity. “Almost as fierce as you,” she said, raising her fingertips to touch Dylan’s beautifully fey face. Her selkie kissed her fingers lovingly. Then, suddenly, he was standing, pulling her robe off and his skin on before picking her up in his strong arms. “I think it’s time for a swim,” he said, and then he was racing down the beach, holding her tight. Meredith squealed with joy, gasping as they hit the water hard. They swam for at least an hour, frolicking like the two gray seals they’d seen before. Eventually, as dawn was breaking, Dylan brought Meredith back to shore. His lips found hers in a gentle kiss before he pulled back to gaze deeply into her eyes. “It’s time I took my leave,” he said. “The sea, she calls me. And you need to get back to your man.” Meredith smiled, her feelings torn between happiness at knowing Alex was waiting for her and sadness that Dylan was leaving. She stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck. “Thank you. For everything,” Meredith whispered, pouring into him her feelings of gratitude, affection, and the peace he’d help her discover within herself. “Thank you, lass. You’ve made me remember why I love life,” Dylan said, before finding her lips for one last, lingering taste. Then he stepped away from


177

Denise Townsend

her, swatting her gently on the behind. “Get you going,” he said. “You’ll get cold without me.” She walked up the beach a few feet, to where her robe lay abandoned. Meredith put it on, and then turned back to Dylan. “You will visit?” She asked again. “Aye,” Dylan assured her, letting her feel his honesty. “And if I find you wearing a bloody turtleneck, it’s going in the fire.” Laughing, Meredith pulled her robe tighter against her, to keep out the cold and her sadness. “Then I’ll see you soon,” she said. “This isn’t good-bye.” “It isn’t,” he agreed. “You’re a beautiful woman, Meredith. In heart and mind, as well as body. Never forget that. And if Alex ever does, we’ll be having a wee chat.” With those words, Dylan straightened his shoulders, pulling his sealskin tighter around him. His dark eyes grew even larger and darker in his face as his second form crept up his body. Suddenly, there was no longer a man standing before her, but an impish looking seal. The creature nodded his head at her in the seal approximation of a wave, and then splashed through the shallows and into the sea. Meredith watched Dylan go, her emotions a firestorm within her. When she could no longer see his sleek, muscular body in the water, she turned and walked up the beach. At first, her steps were heavy with sorrow, but they lightened as she walked.

By the time she’d crept back into Alex’s bedroom, she was smiling.

178


Ocean’s Touch

Hanging the robe back in its proper place, Meredith climbed into bed with Alex. She snuggled up to him as he cracked an eye open before gathering her close. “You’re freezing. And wet. And salty,” he added, after kissing her neck experimentally. “What were you doing?” “Swimming,” she replied. “I’ll explain it to you after we’ve had coffee.” He frowned at her before looking around. “How could you have gone swimming? And where’s Dylan?” Alex asked. “He’s gone,” she said, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. “He had to go home.” “Where’s home?” Alex asked, running his hand down Meredith’s side before trailing his fingers back up her front. His hand found her nipple and plucked gently as he licked her neck again, enjoying the taste of the sea on her skin. “Later. We’ll talk about Dylan later,” was her only reply. At least verbally—physically, she let her own hand drift down his stomach toward Alex’s hardening cock. He gasped as she took him in her stillcold hand, stroking him gently. “I’d rather we concentrated on us now,” she said, remembering Dylan’s admonishment to be brave. Luckily, Alex was more than happy to oblige, and he seemed equally eager to concentrate on her. In fact, he might have even been more eager. After they’d kissed and touched and sighed and gasped and moaned in each other’s arms, Alex paused. Looking down into Meredith’s flushed face, his hips tight against hers, his cock so close to where she wanted him, Meredith wasn’t necessarily in the mood for conversation. But Alex wanted to talk.


179

Denise Townsend

“I do love you, you know,” Alex told her, his voice halting. He knew how to give a woman an orgasm in minutes, but these were words he found utterly intimidating. Meredith looked up at him and smiled. “I know you do. And I love you too.” Then she wriggled her hips a bit closer to him, in a clear reminder that they were in the middle of something. “I want to marry you,” Alex continued, oblivious to her hints. Meredith’s heart bloomed forth with a combination of happiness and exasperation. “Make an honest woman of me?” she quipped, reaching down to take his hard length in her hand and rub him against her wetness. Alex gasped, dropping his head to her neck as pleasure racked his body. “Only a little bit honest,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “Maybe not all that honest, in fact. But I do want to marry you.” Meredith laughed, pulling Alex close against her with her arms, then wrapped her long legs around his hips to pull him inside her. They groaned together as his cock found home. As they made love, Meredith remembered Dylan’s words. She remembered to cherish every second, filing these moments away for the future. Meredith realized then just how lucky she was. Unlike poor Teddy, she had another chance at love. And so she kept Alex’s eyes locked with hers, letting all of her happiness in discovering him, her joy in that moment, and her fierce hopes for their future shine through her gaze. And she thanked her stars again for everything she’d learned from Dylan. She may not be an empath, but he’d taught her well. Shuddering in pleasure underneath Alex, Meredith consciously opened her heart as wide as it would go, feeling herself love and be loved in return. While she didn’t know what her future contained, she knew it was hers.

180


Ocean’s Touch

And Meredith intended to live every minute of it.


181

About the Author

Denise Townsend is a fantasy of salt, sea air, and sun-kissed skin. She was born to tell sensual stories that explore female sexuality and strengths. To find out more about Denise, visit www.denisetownsend.com.

Meeting your soulmate? Great. Preventing your possible murder? Even better.

True Colors

© 2011 Thea Harrison Alice Clark, a Wyr and schoolteacher, has had two friends murdered in as many days, and she’s just found the body of a third. She arrives at the scene only minutes before Gideon Riehl, a wolf Wyr and current detective in the Wyr Division of Violent Crime—and, as Alice oh-so-inconveniently recognizes at first sight, her mate. But the sudden connection Riehl and Alice feel is complicated when the murders are linked to a serial killer who last struck seven years ago, killing seven people in seven days. They have just one night before the killer strikes again. And every sign points to Alice as the next victim.

Enjoy the following excerpt for True Colors Don’t move. Stay perfectly still. The enormous monster plunged through the apartment with the lethal speed of a stealth bomber. A Molotov cocktail of pheromones and Power spewed through the blood-tainted air, the classic signs of a strong male Wyr in a rage. Alice clung to her perch, her heart knocking so hard she thought it was going to burst out of her chest. Had the murderer returned? Then the monster slowed. Alice heard him utter vicious curses under his breath as he came upon Haley’s still-warm body. Alice took the New York subway daily to work. She thought she had heard it all but she learned a few things as she listened to him. Did he curse because he saw the murdered woman for the first time, or because he realized he had made some kind of mistake?

Alice had only just arrived at Haley’s apartment herself. She had found the door open and rushed inside to discover that her friend’s body had been laid out on her bed. Haley’s torso had been cut open, organs strewn across the flowered bedspread like a child’s abandoned toys. Alice had gone numb at the sight, the normal cool gentle logic of her mind seizing in shock. Then she had heard someone running up the stairs. She had barely gotten to her hiding place before the monster appeared. If he was the murderer and he had returned to clean up some clue he had left behind, neither Alice nor the police would know what it was now. He prowled through Haley’s home in complete silence. Alice couldn’t even hear the soft pad of footsteps. Her awareness of him was excruciating, as though someone had stroked the flat of a razor blade along her bare skin with the smiling promise of a cut. His presence was a violation of Haley’s private space. He paused not two feet away from Alice, so close she could see the pocket of his worn leather jacket out of the corner of her eye and hear the almost imperceptible sound of his steady breathing. She wanted to scream and strike at him. She wanted to run away and dial 911. The shadowed apartment hallway was a million miles long, the open front door too far away for her to make a run for it and hope she wouldn’t be noticed. She didn’t dare move, did not dare even shift her gaze for fear a glancing light might reflect off her eyes and give her position away. She hardly dared to breathe. The only thing she could do is taste the air and know that, if nothing else, she could recognize this man again by his scent. Underneath the scent of violence, he smelled warm and clean. If they were in any other kind of situation, she would have found his scent sexy. She fought the sudden urge to vomit.

Wait. If she could scent him, then what kind of trail had she left behind? Could he scent her as well? Would he be able to recognize her again, too? Oh gods.

Ocean's Touch

Crossing Oceans

Oceans Apart

Oceans (Ecosystem)

Oceans (Landforms)

Oceans Apart

Oceans (Biomes)

Crossing Oceans

Oceans Apart

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Oceans of Fire

The Light Between Oceans

Oceans of Fire

Oceans of Dust

Ocean's Touch

Crossing Oceans

Oceans Apart

Oceans (Ecosystem)

Oceans (Landforms)

Oceans Apart

Oceans (Biomes)

Crossing Oceans

Oceans Apart

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Touch

Oceans of Fire

The Light Between Oceans

Oceans of Fire

Oceans of Dust

Recommend Documents