Around them the pale blue shimmer of St. Elmo’s fire rose into the air. The elemental part of their shifters that allowed them to travel through the air escaped as he let his tightly controlled emotions fly for the first time in years. She was his. Whether she understood all that would entail now was not the time to stop. He couldn’t stop. There was no way to contain the lust racing through his veins, the tenderness that somehow wrapped around them as well. He wanted her, but he would die for her if needed.
Chelsea rocked her hips, pressing her firm breasts against his chest, her hot little mouth sucking his neck. He grasped her ass cheeks, kneading the flesh with his fingers before running a single digit between the rounds to play with the rosette of her anus. She drew in a quick breath as he slid his hand lower to pull moisture from her pussy. The held air released with a gasp as he slipped his finger into her to the knuckle.
“Braden. I need you. Oh shit, yes.”
He lifted her up and nestled her slick opening over his cock head, arranging her so every motion brushed her clit, spread her open wide, easing the liquid of her body over his shaft and her pussy lips.
“You ready, baby?”
She grabbed his chin and turned their heads so they were eye to eye. “Yes.”
Chelsea dropped her hips at the same time he thrust up and with a shout he was buried to the hilt. She squeezed him impossibly tight, heat and moisture burning as she embraced him in her intimate clasp.
She lowered her head to his chest and gave him a tender kiss. “Finally.”
They moved together, the frantic tumble of earlier slowing now that they were joined. Flickering blue lights filled the air around them, the paint on Chelsea’s body brushing his skin and mixing together with the natural iridescence of their St. Elmo’s fire.
Damn, he’d never felt anything like this in his life. He’d had lovers by the score, shared pleasure with many of the merfolk as well as the occasional human. Something about the way Chelsea moved over him, gyrating and twisting her hips to force his shaft where she wanted him to go, made it incredible for him as well. They fit. They belonged, and he rejoiced in the pleasure and connection they shared. He tilted his hips, trying to drive a little deeper at the end of every thrust. She leaned closer, rubbing her nipples on him with each pass. The tightness in his sac increased, his balls hardening to rocks. The minx nipped his neck then threw back her head and cried out as she came. She squeezed his cock with a vise-like grip that moved in undulating waves.
He lost control and let go, his release exploding from his cock and jettisoning into her sweet body. She continued to pulse around him, little gasps of pleasure escaping from her lips, and he couldn’t resist kissing her. Dusting kisses across her face, her eyes. He held her close, refusing to let her move away from him as another series of shudders shook her body.
They sat together until their heart rates slowed, their breathing finally returning to normal. She lifted her head off his chest and burst out laughing. Her delight filled the room with a tinkling sound. He was still too overwhelmed to join in.
“Sorry, Braden, but…” She trailed her hands over him and it felt so damn good. She paused, circling his nipple with one finger as she continued to shake with amusement.
“Sorry for what?”
Their eyes met. The sparkling flecks within her irises reassured him she was as moved as he was. Although he couldn’t figure out why she kept laughing. He dropped his gaze to where they were still joined and spotted the reason.
“Shit, woman, I look like a fucking Smurf.” Her body paint covered them both. Streaks of shimmering blue that had nothing to do with their natural release of St. Elmo’s fire streaked his torso.
She bit her lip, the bright smile sneaking around it. “You should see your face. Blue looks good on you. Ohh…”
He rose, his cock slipping from her body as he adjusted her in his arms. Now that he’d given in, there was no way he planned on letting her go any time soon. He strode upstairs to the room he’d been using, Chelsea clinging to his shoulders.
“Shower?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Hmm,” she purred, running a hand over his smooth scalp. “Or the ocean. I really want to go swimming with you.”
“Not very environmentally friendly are you, minx?”
“The paint is nontoxic,” she pointed out. “It’s not like I’m covering myself with lead.”
“Covering me as well.”
“That was a bonus. Next time I’ll use flavored stuff.” She buried her face in his neck and nibbled on his collarbone.
“You know we still have things to talk about, right?”
Chelsea sighed and leaned harder into him, her hands roaming freely over his torso. “Hmm, sure.”
He laughed. “You’re fuck drunk already.” A gentle kiss to her nose was the last thing he did before ducking through the doorway.
The biggest bathroom in the house was the master en suite, and Braden moved carefully, trying to leave as little sign of their presence as possible. They might have free reign over the whole house, but he didn’t want to spend hours scrubbing blue shit off everything in sight.
Once he reached the safety of the tile, he lowered her carefully, pressing another kiss to her cheek before turning to face the damage.
“Hell. I have been attacked by aliens.” There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t have at least a streak of the fucking body paint. The mirror reflected Chelsea standing next to him, her bright smile covering her face and filling her eyes.
It had been a long time since he’d seen her look so truly happy.
She twirled and slipped into the shower ahead of him, part of her joy bubbling up and sneaking out in low chuckles as she adjusted the water taps. They could easily shower in the cold water, but there was something so decadent in using hot. All the merfolk enjoyed the pleasures modern human conveniences afforded them, and now that Braden had finally—finally—given in and made love with her, she planned on enjoying all the pleasures she could.
The large shower stall grew suddenly small as he crowded against her.
“I’m not done with you.” His big hands slid over her shoulders and down her arms, and she shivered in anticipation. “I’m going to wash you. Every single inch of you, baby, is going to get touched.” His hands paused on her hips, pinning her in place under the water spray when she would have turned to face him. He reached past her for the soap and lathered up his hands, his arms trapping her in their circle.
The torment began. Pleasure raced ahead of his hands, his fingers, as he explored. Stroked her breasts, rubbed slow circles on her belly. Encased her thighs with his palms and dropped to his knees behind her as he reached and washed her feet. The blue paint vanished down the drain, but the blue light in the bathroom refused to diminish. His touch, so gentle, so caring, made her heart ache.
He stood, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs pinching the tips lightly against his forefingers.
“Damn, woman, you are gorgeous.” He pressed his hips against her and the length of his once-again-rigid cock nudged the crease of her ass.
She didn’t want to speak for fear she’d break the magical connection between them.
Braden kissed the tender skin under her ear. A shiver raced down her spine and burst into a thousand electrical pulses in her sex. The slow, methodical movements of his touch brought pleasure to her body. The continued caresses of his lips, the soft words of praise muttered against her skin, brought pleasure to her soul.
By the time he turned her in his arms and scooped her up all the tension remaining in her muscles had swirled away with the last remnants of the paint. As he carried her out of the stall and wrapped her in a towel, drying her limbs and nestling her on the bed, she sighed.