one finger, he touched the tiny aquamarine sparkling like a tear against her belly.
“Beautiful.”
But she was too far gone for compliments. Or delays. Grabbing his head, she guided it to her breasts. He
suckled her strongly, his mouth hot and wet. She tangled her fingers in his sleek, warm hair, feeling the
pull all the way to her womb. The earth exhaled as the sun poured down like honey, sealing her eyelids. It
still was not enough. Never enough. Something had seized her, a hunger, a fever. She rose to meet him,
her heels pressing the earth, feeling the clods cool between her shoulders, the soil damp beneath her
buttocks, and then— yesss —his erection, hot and hard against her thighs, against her entrance. He had
yanked his pants open. Her jeans and panties were down around her knees. She strained upward, her
body taut and ready as a bow. He reached between their bodies to the place where she was slick and
wet and aching for him. Now. He pushed, and she sucked in her breath at the sudden invasion, the
startling fullness.
It was too much. It was not enough.
His weight pinned her, trapping her firmly in her body, fully in the moment. She was swimming in
sensation, swept away by desire. He hunched into her, working her with long, firm strokes, thrusting into
her again. And again. The musk of earth, sweat, and sex rose around them, the slap of flesh on flesh, wet
and raw. He pounded into her, deep, deeper. She clenched around him.
His hand gripped her jaw.
Startled, she opened her eyes. His face was dark and intent above her, haloed by the blue, blue sky.
“Come with me,” he commanded. “Come.”
She was helpless to resist. The tide rose in her body, drowning will, swamping thought. The ground rolled
under her like a wave as her crest took her. Above her, within her, Conn’s body plunged. Shuddered.
And the dark carried her away.
Conn levered himself from the girl’s long body, lying among the green vines and dry husks. Her palm lay
curled half-open like a flower. Her scent—sun-warmed skin, soap-washed hair—mingled with the smell
Page 25
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
of crushed stalks and turned soil.
Gazing down at her pale face and thick, fair lashes, he allowed himself a moment’s regret. He would have
preferred her cognizant.
And walking, he acknowledged ruefully.
But he had already been gone too long from Sanctuary. He needed her to propagate her mother’s line
and secure his people’s fate. He did not choose to become mired in days of delay and endless
explanations, with the risk of her family’s interference and perhaps her own refusal at the end.
So.
He had bound her to him by the simplest, strongest means at his disposal. She had not been unwilling. He
had experience enough to achieve her seduction, skill enough to compel her response. Magic enough to
throw her brothers off the scent should they feel obliged to follow.
Everything had gone according to plan.
Except his own reaction.
Conn frowned. She had moved him. He did not know why. He had enjoyed other partners who were
more beautiful and certainly more inventive. Eager partners. Selkie partners.
Not recently, though. He adjusted his clothing, tucking himself away. Perhaps the girl’s charm lay in her
novelty. Perhaps what he was experiencing was merely relief after a long abstinence.
And yet . . . He glanced down at her quiet face, her fair hair rioting over the ground. When he was in her,
when her body rose to meet his, he had felt a power, a control, a hunger to match his own.
Absurd, of course. She was only human, no matter who her mother was.
He slipped off her shoes; reached under her to remove her jeans. Beneath her garments, she was lovely,
clean-limbed and strong, pale and smooth as willow with the bark peeled away.
He laid her back down among the pumpkins, his hands skimming her ribs as he tugged her skimpy top to
cover her pink-tipped
“Beautiful.”
But she was too far gone for compliments. Or delays. Grabbing his head, she guided it to her breasts. He
suckled her strongly, his mouth hot and wet. She tangled her fingers in his sleek, warm hair, feeling the
pull all the way to her womb. The earth exhaled as the sun poured down like honey, sealing her eyelids. It
still was not enough. Never enough. Something had seized her, a hunger, a fever. She rose to meet him,
her heels pressing the earth, feeling the clods cool between her shoulders, the soil damp beneath her
buttocks, and then— yesss —his erection, hot and hard against her thighs, against her entrance. He had
yanked his pants open. Her jeans and panties were down around her knees. She strained upward, her
body taut and ready as a bow. He reached between their bodies to the place where she was slick and
wet and aching for him. Now. He pushed, and she sucked in her breath at the sudden invasion, the
startling fullness.
It was too much. It was not enough.
His weight pinned her, trapping her firmly in her body, fully in the moment. She was swimming in
sensation, swept away by desire. He hunched into her, working her with long, firm strokes, thrusting into
her again. And again. The musk of earth, sweat, and sex rose around them, the slap of flesh on flesh, wet
and raw. He pounded into her, deep, deeper. She clenched around him.
His hand gripped her jaw.
Startled, she opened her eyes. His face was dark and intent above her, haloed by the blue, blue sky.
“Come with me,” he commanded. “Come.”
She was helpless to resist. The tide rose in her body, drowning will, swamping thought. The ground rolled
under her like a wave as her crest took her. Above her, within her, Conn’s body plunged. Shuddered.
And the dark carried her away.
Conn levered himself from the girl’s long body, lying among the green vines and dry husks. Her palm lay
curled half-open like a flower. Her scent—sun-warmed skin, soap-washed hair—mingled with the smell
Page 25
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
of crushed stalks and turned soil.
Gazing down at her pale face and thick, fair lashes, he allowed himself a moment’s regret. He would have
preferred her cognizant.
And walking, he acknowledged ruefully.
But he had already been gone too long from Sanctuary. He needed her to propagate her mother’s line
and secure his people’s fate. He did not choose to become mired in days of delay and endless
explanations, with the risk of her family’s interference and perhaps her own refusal at the end.
So.
He had bound her to him by the simplest, strongest means at his disposal. She had not been unwilling. He
had experience enough to achieve her seduction, skill enough to compel her response. Magic enough to
throw her brothers off the scent should they feel obliged to follow.
Everything had gone according to plan.
Except his own reaction.
Conn frowned. She had moved him. He did not know why. He had enjoyed other partners who were
more beautiful and certainly more inventive. Eager partners. Selkie partners.
Not recently, though. He adjusted his clothing, tucking himself away. Perhaps the girl’s charm lay in her
novelty. Perhaps what he was experiencing was merely relief after a long abstinence.
And yet . . . He glanced down at her quiet face, her fair hair rioting over the ground. When he was in her,
when her body rose to meet his, he had felt a power, a control, a hunger to match his own.
Absurd, of course. She was only human, no matter who her mother was.
He slipped off her shoes; reached under her to remove her jeans. Beneath her garments, she was lovely,
clean-limbed and strong, pale and smooth as willow with the bark peeled away.
He laid her back down among the pumpkins, his hands skimming her ribs as he tugged her skimpy top to
cover her pink-tipped
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