Page 89 of Florescentia

I covered my mouth, but it didn’t stop the moan. It was short, but I was sure he’d heard it.

His claws dug into my hip and leg. I could feel his breath between my legs as he massaged the slick tongue inside my body.

I gripped the back of the sofa tighter, moving my hips back onto his face as he slithered within. I swore I could feel the individual tips pressing deeper. I could feel everything; it was too many sensations.

A low rumble came from him, then his lips sucking as he massaged my insides. My hips were held in place as he feasted, the wet laps making my legs shake.

“Ha . . . ah . . .” I breathed, my abdomen tight as I closed my eyes. I was almost there, the rhythm putting me in a trance between the movement of my hips, the pressure, the stretching—then it stopped.

I pressed on his face further, as if to chase the quickly fading orgasm that had been building. It escaped me, and I groaned, frustrated with the lack of movement. I looked down between my legs, the shadow blocking the way. He was there still. I could feel him. So I moved again, feeling his tongue go in and out as I bent my knees.

A rumble so low it sounded like it rattled came from him. I could only assume it was satisfaction.

But then he grabbed my ankle, standing up and taking my leg with him to flip me onto my back.

The dark shadow was so large, vaguely human in shape, like the first time I’d seen him. His giant hand wrapped completely around my ankle. The tongue retracted, flicking as it pulled out and retreated into his chest. There was no human-shaped mouth in sight.

He grabbed my hip with one hand that nearly encompassed half my waist. Even with the deadly talons, it seemed he was careful not to pierce my stomach from the pressure.

I squirmed in his grip, but he was too strong. Between his legs, something arose. A slit in his groin area unsheathed.

A long, red, seemingly phallic limb presented itself.

It was flexible, moving like a snake. The girth was questionable in compatibility: I could grab it with both hands. The speared head approached, then it opened four ways, like a flower—except much more horrific. When it opened, it reminded me of a starfish’s texture, hundreds of little bumps that disappeared inward in the middle, to an opening.

At the tip of each “petal” was a black hook.

My legs snapped shut as I clasped my hands between my thighs.

There wasn’t much expression from him to ease me, except the fact that he stopped when I squirmed. My stomach dropped. What in the living hell was he going to do with that?

My breath wasn’t getting steadier, but I lay my head back on the cushion.

Hesitantly, I parted my legs.

The phallic limb twitched in anticipation. I could even see what looked like blood vessels pumping through the veins. The closest comparison could only be described as some deep-sea creature found only in the lightless depths.

Every reflex wanted me to flinch away the nearer it got, but I was determined. He wouldn’t hurt me; I trusted that he wouldn’t. If he’d wanted to, he would have already. This was his offering of pleasure, even if it struck fear at first glance.

It pressed between my legs, the tip opening wider as it positioned itself.

Is that supposed to go inside?

The relief I felt when it merely pressed between my legs, the starfish-like tips simply holding their position from the outside. The black claws pinched me as they pressed against my skin. I swallowed thickly, hoping that would be the end of it.

Then I felt a bulge.

From the center of the tip, something hot protruded, smaller than the sheath it had come from.

The flexible thing pushed into me easily with its own lubricant, the smooth extension filling me. The semi-firm addition swelled inside once it was positioned comfortably.

The beast leaned over, his form so large he could crush me if he simply decided to lie on top of me.

“Ah . . . wait,” I whimpered.

His other hand scooped under the curve of my back, and he had to rest a knee on the sofa to get his hips closer. He rolled them forward, a deadly rattle vibrating in his chest, a predatory grumble shaking me to my core.

I dug my nails into the chest, his shadowy form becoming warmer where I touched him.