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I nod. “You are, if you’ll have me.”
“Of course, I will. I thought you didn’t want me. Why would someone like you want someone like me?”
Cupping her chin, I look deep into her eyes. “Shelly. Don’t talk like that. Of course, I want you. Apart from fate or pheromones, or call it what you will, I see you. I want you. I want the fun and friendly woman who took pity on me and agreed to come on a crazy last-minute trip to help me out. I want the woman who dropped her whole drink in my lap, then brought me a change of clothes and told me no one saw my cock even though I definitely caught you looking.”
She flushes. “Uh, sorry about that.”
I grin. “Don’t be sorry. It’s yours to look at. Whenever you like.”
Her gaze drops immediately to the place our bodies meet and I lean back to let her look. My cock obliges us both by swelling further under her inspection.
I grit my teeth. Iridescent moisture is already beading and glistening at the tip. “Shelly, I—”
“Can I touch you?”
Sweet ocean tides, I’m going to come in her hand just at her hungry look. “Shelly, I’m not sure how long I can hold back. Once the mating bond forms, for my kind... we...” I’m trying to find a way to say this delicately. All I can think about is her wrapping her small hand around my aching cock while I taste her flavor in my soul. She tastes of love and desire and excitement.
“You what? Please tell me kraken have sex like humans, because I’d really really like it if we could.”
My laughter sounds a little wild in my ears. I take her hand and guide it over my cock, barely managing not to spill right then.
Slowly we stroke down and up together, and I savor a few moments of heaven before I have to pull her away again. “I hate to disappoint you, Shelly. Kraken don’t have sex like humans. We do it much, much better.”
***
Shelly
Warmth that has nothingto do with the balmy summer night courses through me at Rosh’s touch and the look in his beautiful eyes. I can still feel the phantom thickness of his cock in my palm and I long to touch him again. Feel the ridges and bumps and the way he pulses in my grip.
Then he bends his head and kisses me before I have a chance. Yeah, it’s a pretty good distraction. I’m lucky he’s got his tentacles wrapped tight about me so I don’t fall. My knees go weak when his tongue slicks against mine, and his lips tease and caress and excite. His hands are everywhere, my butt, my hips, my face. Of course, it’s not just hands, but tentacles, too. The brush of textured flesh against my bare calf makes me shiver. We’re standing in the water, the waves lapping at my ankles. My shoes are forgotten on the beach, or probably taken by the water by now. I could care less.
Rosh’s tentacles are wet, but the sensation isn’t unpleasant. In fact, as one slides higher and higher my breath catches in my throat, and I moan into his mouth when the tip slides into the slit in my skirt.
He pulls back, panting, and looks down at me. “Is this OK?”
I nod quickly, not wanting him to stop even for a moment. “God, yes.”
