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I just wanted him tohurry.
But after he’d called me that one name again, he’d made his circular gesture at me again in the air, then backed up and looked around, moving away from the water’s edge.
I supposed getting banged by water was a hazard for him, but I didn’t want him getting too far away from me; I needed him too badly.
I watched him crawl up onto the wall and start setting up what I first thought might be like a stage, because he looked like he was doing rigging.
Then I realized he was making a web.
For me.
For . . . us.
And it seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing, as he swung back and forth, landing carefully among so many pretty, sharp, multi-colored shards, creating a network of the silks he extruded, creating three-quarters of a spiked crown between them, before he started filling in structural points.
And he stayed hard that whole time—I knew, because I was looking—so this, whatever it was, had to be important.
I wriggled onto the towel he’d made me, and dried myself off as best as I could, until he finished, and his web was just as beautiful as all the surrounding crystals. He lowered himself to the ground, and then he came for me, offering me his hand.
There wouldn’t be any going back, after this.
It would be worse than when the nudes got out—this time I would always be that girl who fucked a spider.
But you know what?
I didn’t care.
I took his hand, and used it to carefully pull myself up, without putting any weight on my still healing leg, and reached out for him.
Twenty-Three
NIA’N’AN
For the firsttime since I’d seen Sloane, fallen on the ground, I was scared.
I picked her up easily and carefully crawled out onto the mating web I’d made for us. In comparison to me, she seemed too fragile, and I’d already broken her the once—but she was just as eager for this as I was, if she was to be believed.
And it wasn’t just her words—it was her whole body. She felt hot for me, and I knew it was more than just the heat of the pool’s water—the scent that she’d carried with her this whole time now had a richness to it I’d never smelled before.
I set her safely on the web—I’d created it to be slightly sticky, and tacked it down at an angle so she wouldn’t be in danger of sliding off—then I lowered myself. I needed to know where her mating smell came from.
“Oh?” she said, distracting me. “You’re just going to go straight down there? Okay—no, I get it, I’m horny too.”
I blinked and paused. Were there other ways, she would want to “be” with me?
She took my hesitation in stride. “I’m guessing you don’t know what to do with all this, huh?” she asked, lifting her breasts up and presenting them.
I did not.
But I was certainly willing to learn.
I moved so I could hold my torso horizontally above hers. “My love, show me.”
She gave me a soft smile—and some things needed no translation.
“I like it when I get touched here,” she said, covering one of her breasts with a hand. I did the same with her opposite breast, and then watched her watching me, giving a quiet sigh. “I like it when someone lifts them up and holds them, like they’re keeping them for me.”
I moved to do as I was told, cradling one of her breasts in each hand. They had a delightful heft to them, a beautiful tensility, like a perfectly strung web. I rubbed them with my hands, enjoying the soft, full way they felt, and how her maternal attributes seemed to pucker up at my attention.
