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“And ruin a perfectly good uniform?” he replies. “Besides, I want to watch you strip.”
“R-really?”
Releasing me, he backs toward the wall and folds his arms. Old habits die hard, I suppose.
“Take it all off,” he says in a voice that’s so low and husky that I feel it in my pussy.
This time, when I’m unbuttoning the shirt, my fingers tremble but that’s out of excitement, rather than terror. My mate’s gaze burns like molten fire as I reveal my bra and then my belly. By the time I unfasten my pants and drop them to the floor, he’s reaching down to adjust himself.
“Human clothing is overrated,” he grumbles. “I never knew erections could be so uncomfortable.”
I gaze down at the huge tent in his pants and lick my lips. “But you had one before.”
“It was just my camouflaged mating arm.”
That’s when I remember that octopuses don’t technically have penises, just a specialized tentacle. Fortunately, my mate is also now a fully-formed human.
“Come here,” he growls.
“But I haven’t finished undressing.” I step out of my fallen pants and toe off my loafers.
One set of invisible tentacles snake around my back and unhook my bra with the dexterity of fingers, while the other slips beneath my knickers and eases them down my thighs.
My heart flutters. This is the first time he’s undressed me with those appendages, and I hadn’t expected him to be so smooth. Before I can ask if he’s using Mr. Roberts’s knowledge, his tentacles lift me off my feet.
“What are you doing?” I ask with a shriek.
“Since I caught you, I call the shots,” he says, his voice a low growl. “And I want to taste your pussy with my mouth.”
A jumping-off-the-diveboard sensation makes my stomach dip as I remember that this is also the creature who pulled Mr. Roberts into a maw situated in his middle. “Which mouth?”
“This one.” He snaps his teeth.
My stomach muscles untighten, and I relax in the grip of his tentacles. “Oh.”
He pins me to the wall, so my crotch is nearly six feet off the ground. Strong tentacles wrap around my shoulders, my thighs, my knees, both keeping my legs open while holding my body in place.
He stands between my spread thighs, his gaze fixed on my pussy. A cold draft swirls around my heated skin and settles on my clit, which is still a little sensitive from last night’s whipping.
“You’re so wet for me,” he says in a deep voice that charges the air with electric tension.
His breath, which was once almost as cool as the breeze is now warm and gusting against my exposed sex. Every inch of my flesh shivers for his touch.
“Please,” I say from between clenched teeth.
“Ask nicely and say my name.”
My throat closes, and I have to force air from my lungs. “Please, Mate. I want you to lick my pussy.”
He makes a satisfied rumble that goes straight to my empty core. The muscles there clench, and right now, I don’t know which I want more—his tongue or his cock.
“Since you asked so prettily,” he says with a broad grin and brings his mouth to my pussy.
The first lick his from a human tongue. I’m so sensitive that I feel every taste bud pass over my folds. My thighs tremble as he continues to lap, savoring my taste with appreciative moans.
“How is it?” I ask with a gasp.
“Still delicious,” he mumbles into my pussy, sending vibrations of sound across my entire pelvis.
