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I’m tempted to ignore him, to shove up straighter and capture his lips with my mouth, take control of the situation until I can command him to do exactly what he just promised.
But I don’t.
My mate’s earned enough of my trust to also earn something else I almost never give—my compliance.
Eyes locked on his, I reach down and slowly unlace my boot. Energy crackles wildly between us, and the way he licks his lips in anticipation has me hurrying to kick that boot off and rid myself of the other. My socks follow, as do my pants, until I’m in my shirt and panties in the cool night breeze.
Creep brings his claw to my knee and gently pushes on it, the simple touch sending a flare of yearning up to my core. “Open. Spread those legs?—”
“Do you want my panties off?—”
“Not yet,” he whispers, leaning in close enough to capture my lips for the first time.
My mate’s kiss is swift but sure. He knows exactly how much to press against my mouth to make my lips part for him, but also maintains enough control not to give in when my tongue swipes against him and asks for more. He pulls back slightly, enough to gaze into my eyes, but I can still feel his words ghost across my skin.
“Spread. I want to stare at you. I’m going to burn this moment into my brain of my mate spread eagled on the hood of a car, waiting for me to do unspeakable things to her.”
God. Those words alone tighten my nipples to points so hard they threaten to cut through my shirt.
I lean back onto the windshield and widen my legs across the hood like he asks. The metal is cold and stiff against my back, but I’m nearly feverish with anticipation at this point, so it doesn’t bother me. All that matters is the rush of my pulse, which soars like a bird in a wild wind current and brings a flush to my cheeks and to other parts of my body.
Creep steps between my legs, eyes roaming over me. “Aliana.”
Just the worshipful way he murmurs my name sends heat spiraling into my lower belly and makes my thighs quiver, wanting to rub together and ease the ache building inside.
I wait and let him look his fill, even though I’m practically trembling as a result.
"Shirt," he finally orders.
I sit up to comply, tossing the shirt over the side of the vehicle and then growling, "Touch me."
I may implode if he doesn’t put those hands on me soon.
Creep reaches forward with his claw and gently scoops my breasts out of the cups of my bra, propping the globes up on top of the material so he can stare down at the evidence of my arousal.
It takes all of my self control not to arch my back and beg him to put his mouth on me. They feel so heavy and full and needy, but I resist the urge to ask for what I want. There's something more thrilling about encouraging this budding tension between us, this stolen moment of freedom where I'm trusting my other mates to take care of the world's problems and this mate to take care of me.
Creep has always taken care of me, I realize with a start. The thought tightens my throat.
"I wish I had a camera," Creep murmurs, a lone claw coming up to trace the underside of one of my nipples.
"Cameras still exist?" I ask brokenly, that touch sending me into a floating headspace where the errant emotions that just rose up mingle with the wisps of lust and start to swirl like the clouds just before a storm.
He gives me a one-shoulder shrug, eyes focused on my chest and the panting breaths I start to take when he slowly wraps his tentacle around my ankle. Soft and wet, the texture of his new appendage is more intense as he touches me without clothing. The tentacle itself is rubbery, but the suction cups are like circular tongues, warm and wet and perhaps just the tiniest bit sticky.
Every inch or two of tentacle, there's another sucker, and as Creep slowly trails the long limb up, wrapping my leg as he goes, those suckers lap at my exposed skin in delicious ways. The teasing, suctioning kisses all along the length of my leg makes my toes curl. Then the pointed tip of the tentacle reaches my inner thigh and strokes along the seam of my panties, and my breath shudders and stalls.
I’ve never been so close to begging.
"Are you wet for me?"
"Dry as the Sahara," I tell him.
Creep's crooked grin shows the sharp fangs of his canines. "Liar."
"Prove me a liar," I retort, though I’m certain that my heaving breasts give me away.
"Hmmm...I think you really want me to touch you to prove it," he murmurs. "But I think there's a better way."
