Page 14 of Stealing the Merman

“Conall!”

“Scream so loud they think I’m murdering you.”

“FUCK ME!”

Darin shook, his muscles from his neck to his calves trembling as Conall’s sole focus lay on rubbing his prostate to orgasm. Darin keened, and his inner muscles strained around Conall, hugging him tightly. And Conall lost his last shreds of self-control. He growled and pistoned into Darin. Hard. Fast. Deep.

A sob spilled from Darin’s mouth, and he spasmed under Conall’s weight. “I love it when you fuck me!”

“And I love fucking you.”

“Fuck… don’t stop… please, don’t stop… sir… I…”

Conall never let up. He drilled into Darin. His pelvic muscles braced against the onslaught of savage pleasure. He ought to contain his orgasm. He wouldn’t let himself come before Darin. The thought was unacceptable. But the harbingers of climax clutched at him: his heart raced, his balls slapped up to his body, his inner muscles pulled taut, ready to shoot.

Conall roared. Desperate to do something, anything that’d distract and save him, he sank his teeth into Darin’s neck. Darin gasped. One thrust. Two. Darin shouted as his insides tensed around Conall, then relaxed before erupting into a feral rhythm of straining and releasing as he came. He writhed and squirmed, and his pulsing convulsions pulled Conall over the edge. Grunting against Darin’s neck, he gave one last, reckless thrust into that hot glory of Darin’s hole and came in a thunder of spasms. His cock exploded, shooting deep into his personal heaven. Jerking and twitching, he unloaded in rapid spurts that had his loins seizing in mind-numbing bliss. He groaned, enveloped in that pulsing slice of paradise. Darin quivered, pulling the last splashes of cum from Conall.

They collapsed together, skin on skin. When Darin let out a happy sign, Conall couldn’t stop the purr rising in his throat. It came out low and deep, and Darin gave the faintest shudder. Conall grinned. His thumbs stroked Darin’s.

He wondered why he was doing this instead of pulling out and kicking Darin out of his quarters. He wondered why he’d said those damning words.I love fucking you. One word less, and he would’ve been in trouble. Who was he kidding? Hewasin trouble.

The combination of alcohol, an intense day and an even more intense orgasm almost put him to sleep right then and there. He somehow must have made it to bed because when he woke in the morning, it was on a soft mattress and with a warm body draped across his naked chest.

Sleep seeped out of Conall as his senses returned. Soft breathing. A comforting weight atop him. Hair tickling his skin. Then, fingertips brushed his side.

Conall blinked his eyes open but had to squint as bright sunlight fell into the cabin through the paneled windows and caught on Darin’s copper hair. Conall’s head hurt, and he recalled how much he’d drunk the night before. His throat was parched, and he couldn’t wait to gulp down some cool water.

Other memories rushed in. Oh, no. Fingering Darin while forbidding him to come. He’d done it to prove to his twisted mind that Darin would fail him, like everyone else. Except for Finn, a little voice in his head told him. But Darin hadn’t “failed” him. He’d almost given himself a cramp while he staved off his orgasm by sheer force of will.

And it had gotten worse afterward, hadn’t it? He’d screwed Darin while holding hands. Christ. He’d taken off his clothes. And evidently, he’d let Darin sleep in his bed. On top of him. Was he out of his mind? That was the kind of stuff he’d sworn off. This could get him killed. He had to end this. Immediately. He lifted his head, and it gave a painful throb. Conall groaned. He shouldn’t have consumed so much alcohol.

Darin looked up, a smile lighting up his face as he saw Conall was awake.

He should end it. Kick him out.

“Good morning,” Darin said and placed a kiss on Conall’s cheek. He then extracted himself from under the thin sheet, tottered to his clothes, put them on and left.

Praise the lord for small mercies. At least he and Darin were on the same page. They were fucking, not lovers. It was a casual, meaningless thing between them. Last night, Conall had worn him out, and Darin, too tired to walk the few yards back to his cabin, had collapsed on top of him. That was all it was. It didn’t mean anything, and it wouldn’t happen again.

It was fine. A one-off occurrence. Pacified, Conall drifted back into a dreamless sleep. He woke when the door to his cabin opened with a squeak. Through half-closed eyes, he saw Darin step into his room. What the heck?

But then he looked properly and saw that he was carrying a tray. Darin was bringing him breakfast, like every morning. The smell of fried eggs wafted over, and Conall salivated. His muscles released all tension. There was nothing to worry about.

Conall crawled out of bed and picked up breeches and a shirt. He threw them on as Darin set the food on the table.

They engaged in harmless conversation. Yes, Darin had slept well, and as expected, most men aboard were hungover. But not the cook, who’d prepared the eggs how Conall liked them: fried from both sides, and the slightest bit runny on the inside, Darin promised.

Conall downed half the water Darin had brought him. Then he sat at the table and was about to dig in when Darin flopped onto his lap.

“Oops,” Darin said, an impish grin splitting his face. His body radiated warmth, and the sudden weight on Conall’s lap felt too good to push him off. Fine, he’d entertain this for a little longer.

He was about to tell him that this wouldn’t become a habit, when Darin tore off a piece of bread, stuck a fried egg on it, and held it to Conall’s lips. Damn, that smelled nice. He opened his mouth and allowed Darin to feed him, his tongue flicking over his fingers as he licked up crumbs of bread. The bread wasn’t fresh, but it’d never tasted this good.

Conall decided he was still drunk from the night before since it was the only rational explanation for his behavior. Before he realized what he was doing, he was feeding Darin savory biscuits and pieces of dried meat. The prettiest blush pinked Darin’s cheeks as he wrapped his lips around food and fingers alike, sucking at them for a bit too long, a bit too hard.

The important thing, Conall decided, was not to think about what they were doing. The previous day and night had been insane, and there was no reason for the morning to be any different. He’d be back to normal soon.

The sun heated the room, and Darin stretched. “I love the heat of the Bahamas,” he said, turning his face into the golden rays streaming through the windows. “I complain about it like everyone else, but I’ll take it over the gloom of Britain any day.”

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