“Yes.” I laugh, even though it’s broken by gasps and tremors. “Please don’t make me choose.”
A tentacle wraps around my throat, the suckers kissing at my neck.
He teases me, softly at first, until I beg for more. He doesn’t make me choose… but he does make me ask, and when I’m panting, almost beyond reason, the tentacles inside me pull apart, stretching me even wider.
“Can I come in you again?” His voice is strained.
“God, yes.”
His cock presses deep between those tentacles and my eyes flutter closed only to snap open again. With hisfirstthrust, the sucker that was gently teasing my clit pulls sharply and that spike of pleasure is so sharp and sweet…
I cry out, his name is a broken shadow of a word.
“I was right,” he says, the words are quiet as a whisper. “I do love it.”
He doesn’t relent and my body doesn’t either. My orgasm barely ebbs before my body starts to shake with a second.
Being each others’ sex toys had been hot.This… it feels like I’ve ignited.
“Please, Sirin,” I whisper the words, too. I don’t know if he hears them as I say, “Please come for me. Fill me.”
Maybe it was my request, maybe it was just good timing, but he groans a moment later and I clench around him, my body demanding his inky cum.
I breathe through the last of my body’s reactions as he whispers words I don’t know and slowly his tentacles ease from me.
“Will you be upset if I reserve your next session?”
“No.” I shudder a sigh and his cock eases from me. “I want to see you every chance I get.”
He disappears, the session is over, and I feel… I feel electric. Sinking to my knees, his cum pools out of me onto the floor, and a thought sparks.
“Offer him a photo.”
“That voids several of your security protocols. Do you want to waive anonymity?”
I shouldn’t. “Yes.”
Posing feels silly, but when the bot shows me for approval, I feelsosexy.
I send it away and sit back against the wall instead of going to my locker room right away.
Fingers slicked in his cum, I swirl them around my clit until I come one more time to the thought of him looking at me while he strokes himself later.
When the last orgasm subsides, I realize my mistake.
Staring at my stained fingers, all I can say is… “Oops.”
CHAPTER 6
It’s been three hours and I’m starting to wonder if sending him the photo was the worst idea ever.
I’m jittery, anxious… and I know I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but…
He hasn’t messaged, and he hasn’t reserved my next session.
I’ve washed my hands a dozen times and even though the soap Dr. Love gave me helps, it can’t get rid of it completely.
I paint my nails black with shaking hands.
