Page 4 of The Selkie Santa

“Hey, stop moving in on my girl.” Wyatt punched him in the ribs.

“I’m not your girl, Wyatt,” Harper responded hotly. “And don’t worry—dating one selkie was enough for me, thanks.” And with a toss of her head, she sashayed back into the building and slammed the door.

Noah’s heart sank.

Clearly his fantasy of dating Harper needed to be buried with the shipwrecks at the bottom of the harbor. Where it belonged.

When she closed the door, Harper leaned her back against it and sighed. If she’d still had a morsel of a chance with Noah, that final comment would have blown it. Why was she so inclined to mask her feelings? Probably because whenever Noah got close, she felt all trembly inside and her pussy went slick and needy.

She’d always been attracted to big species. Dated a minotaur and then an orc for quite a while. But the way she’d felt about them didn’t compare to how she felt about Noah. Big and burly and bearded, with beautiful dark eyes, huge biceps, and large capable hands, he was her perfect guy. Imagining how he’d flipher over and hold her steady while he thrust into her had worn down the batteries on her vibrator more times than she’d like to admit.

Dina had once told her that Noah was a good fuck, which had made Harper squirm with envy.

“He always makes sure I come first,” Dina had almost whined. “Sometimes I wish he’d be rougher.”

Like, what? Making sure his girl came first—that was afault? Goddess on a stick, what Harper would give for a considerate lover, one who knew she needed servicing first, who didn’t need to be told constantlyyou’re being too rough,too hard,too fast.

Oh, and yeah, thanks for leaving me to sleep in the wet patch.

Dating Wyatt as second best had been a disaster. As tonight had yet again proven. And she couldn’t even keep the beautiful sandals as a consolation prize. Not that she would. She had a conscience. She loved that Noah had a conscience too—see, even their values were aligned. Harper’s shoulders slumped. She and Noah would be a perfect fit, really, they would. If only he’d stop seeing her as just a friend.

Talking of perfect fits, she held the shoes up and took a good look at them. Turned them over and eyed the cobalt blue soles, the perfect stitching. Fae made, for sure. And so elite they didn’t even have a label.

They were clearly owned by a human, going by the size and also the slender fit. They would fit her, she was certain. There was no harm in trying them on at least.

Skipping up the narrow staircase from the café to her room, Harper slipped the shoes on and strutted up and down in front of her cracked mirror, loving the tap-tap of the heels on the old floorboards. She had good enough legs, but these sandals made them look amazing, elongating her calves and making her butt thrust out in her little nightdress.

Harper stopped strutting and bit her lip, blushing a little.

For a moment back there, when Noah first arrived, his eyes had flicked to her breasts, and she was sure she’d caught a flare of heat in their dark depths. But it was gone in a second.

Just supposing… Harper’s hand slid down her body, over the peak of her nipples, the full swell of her breasts, remembering that look, imagining what would happen next. She pictured his strong arms, maybe even his tail, holding her against his hard body, his full mouth devouring hers, the roughness of his beard as he kissed her, that big selkie tongue tangling with her own. Moaning softly, her fingers found her cleft and located the bud of her clit. She was already wet—just from one hot glance from Noah Shortwater.

Gods, he did more for her in one look than Wyatt could manage in six months of fucking her.

And with that, Harper lay down on the bed, still wearing the beautiful sandals, and spread her legs. Her back arching, she pleasured herself to glorious images of Noah pleasuringher.

CHAPTER 2

The month of SEPTEMBER

“Hey Harper?—”

Her pulse quickening at the familiar baritone behind her, Harper turned with her arms full of groceries and beamed at her favorite guy in the world as he strode across Motham Quay toward her.

“Guess what, someone’s finally claimed the sandals.”

“You’re kidding me.” She pouted. “If they were still in lost property by the end of the month, they’d have been mine.”

Noah caught up with her, a little disheveled from the wind, his thick, shaggy hair blowing around his handsome face. It was a sunny day, but Autumn was in the air and a chill breeze blew in from the sea.

It wouldn’t be long until winter came calling and another year had passed. Harper stifled a sigh. She’d be twenty-nine this year. Time was marching on, and still she and Noah seemed to be firmly embedded in the friend-zone.

She cocked her head. “So, who’d they belong to?”

“A wealthy orc claimed them. His girlfriend left them in Wyatt’s boat after a trip to Orc Island months ago.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “I always knew he’d nicked them.”

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