Page 20 of Stealing the Merman

Finn rubbed him in the sweetest rhythm, swallowing and moaning around him. Darin lost control. His insides strained, leaving him suspended for a moment before breaking out in devastating convulsions. He exploded, screaming, undulating around Finn’s fingers while his cock spilled down his throat. Finn stroked and sucked him ceaselessly, pulling ever new spasms from his coming hole. He took Darin from high to high until every muscle in his body contracted, releasing tension in rhythmic convulsions. Darin thrashed, throwing his head from side to side. He was out of control, reduced to a coming, pulsing mess. Finn’s swallowing throat and stroking fingers worked him to the very end where his ass clenched for a last, powerful time, and Darin collapsed with a shout.

His cheek resting on the sand, he panted as Finn pulled off and out. He opened his eyes to half-mast and was about to hug and kiss Finn when a movement twenty yards down the beach caught his attention.

Conall. Watching him. Them. Darin blinked. Why was Conall here? Why wasn’t he with his merman? He hadn’t touched Darin in days. He’d assumed Conall was starving himself of sex so the encounter with his merman would be all the more explosive.

“We’re leaving,” Conall said, face tight.

“Already?” Darin asked. He hadn’t had enough time with Finn.

“How many more orgasms can you have? You’re finished.”

“Conall?” Finn asked.

Darin’s head snapped around to him. Finn had crawled out of his lap and was staring at Conall with wide eyes.

Oh, bloody hell. Oh, bloody goddamn fucking hell.Finnwas Conall’s merman. When Darin had approached him at the rock, he’d been too dazed to realize the similarities between Finn and Conall’s description of the merman.Tousled blond curls. The largest, most innocent blue eyes you can imagine.Conall had never mentioned his name.

Darin had fucked Conall’s merman.

“How much did you see?” Darin asked, cringing as soon as the question was out. He was an idiot. He had to apologize. He—

“All of it.”

“What?” Conall’s answer didn’t compute. Conall had watched them? The shock was like a bucket of icy water dousing him. Conall would rip him a new one. Would he? He’d staked his claim on both him and Finn. Conall would kill him in a fit of rage.

“Get up,” Conall said. “We. Are. Leaving.” He turned on his heel.

Darin whipped around to Finn, who was staring at Conall’s departing frame, mouth gaping. It took Finn a few seconds to tear his gaze from Conall and look at Darin. Darin cupped his face. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve kissed Finn goodbye. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to make what he’d done worse. His thumb traced Finn’s cheekbone. “I need to go.”

Concern furrowed Finn’s brow. Darin let go of him, and Finn neither spoke nor moved when he got onto his feet, threw him one last apologetic look and followed Conall to the ship.

He forced himself not to turn. If he laid eyes on Finn, he’d run back and kiss him. Darin took a deep breath. His feet sank into the sand with every step that carried him away from Finn.

How had this happened? He must have gotten off the ship before Conall. Conall, who had to be raging with jealousy.

Although, his arrangement with Conall had been casual, no promises, no commitment. Right? He hadn’t “strayed.” It wasn’t like he was Conall’s spouse. And the same was true for Finn—Conall had met him once, months ago. But still—was he stealing Conall’s merman?

A thought crept up on Darin. Had the situation not been awkward but different somehow… he would’ve liked Conall watching the two of them. Not to make him jealous, but to please him. But that was absurd—why would the sight of the two of them having sex please Conall?

And why hadn’t Conall let his anger run free right then and there? Was he saving it for later when they were aboard the ship? It made sense; Conall didn’t want to do this in front of Finn. The crew was used to Darin screaming his lungs out in the captain’s quarters. He could scream all he wanted while Conall bloody murdered him. No one would come to help him, they’d all think they were fucking.

Conall’s angry outburst never came. As they sailed away, the quartermaster came up to Darin and informed him that he was relieved of his cabin boy duties.

Over the following days, Conall didn’t speak to him. And Darin, valuing his life, didn’t seek him out. He avoided him. Whenever he spotted Conall, he ducked away, finding another task to do elsewhere. Conall pretended he didn’t exist. That suited Darin fine, for he feared Conall would maroon him if they spent a minute in the same room. He’d take him, drop him on a deserted island and leave him to die.

Yet more than once, Darin stood at the door to Conall’s quarters, fist raised to knock but never finding the courage to do so. He yearned to speak with him, apologize, but he was too afraid of the consequences. Conall was boiling with rage, and there was no saying what he’d do at the slightest perceived provocation.

Darin kept his mind busy thinking about anything but Shroud Cay. It was a bad idea to dwell on the past, but guilt nagged at him.

When they reached the next port, a small outlaw haven in the southern Exuma Cays, the quartermaster told him he was discharged.

“The captain says you aren’t cut out for pirating,” the quartermaster said. “He suggests you find a different line of work.”

To Darin’s surprise, he was allowed to keep his share of the goldThe Pillaging Seas had captured while he’d worked aboard. His dismissal by the quartermaster was cold and clinical. He didn’t see Conall again. Conall, who hadn’t shouted at him once. They hadn’t exchanged a word since Shroud Cay.

Confused, hurt and feeling guilty all at once, Darin was on his own. If he’d held a sliver of hope that Conall and he could be something more, it was now extinguished.

Chapter Eight

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