Page 32 of Hot Ghoul Summer

The tugging makes warmth gush inside me. Both go into his mouth, and he sucks hard, then soft, hard, then soft, his tongue feeling around each of the slightly wrinkled, irregular surfaces. When I think I’m about to come just from that, he parts my lips and pushes his tongue inside of me. One hand spreads me, one hand rubs the nub at the top of my lips. Even in the dark, I see his eyes shining up at me, seeking approval.

If my loud cries are anything to go by, he has it. But I still want to be full. My walls clench achingly on nothing, trying to catch the shivering slip of his tongue in my entrance before it flicks away.

I grab a fistful of his dark, curling hair and tug.

“Am I doing it wrong?” he asks at once, licking his lips.

“No... It’s just time for the next part.”

“Oh.” He looks down, rubbing his thumb where I’m most sensitive. “I got carried away, didn’t I?”

“I’m not complaining. I wish all guys would get carried away like that.”

“Then why do I have to move on?”

“I just want you to.” It’s what I know. It’ll be over quicker that way.

His already soft voice drops lower as his hand rubs faster. “Right, then. You tell me just how you want it.”

“I want your cock in my pussy,” I spell it out, and Toby jumps like someone caught his dick in a mousetrap.

“What? I mean, thank you! But no. I want to give you this and not take anything from you if it’s all the same.”

“Huh? What? Why?” Does not compute.

Toby doesn’t answer, just dips his head back down and locks his arms around my upper thighs. When I wriggle, I can’t move more than a centimeter. I shiver, but feel safe. This is the sort of superhuman strength he used on me when he first trapped me in here—no, when he first hid me in here. Kept me safe.

And now he’s keeping me still so he can devour me.

But I do want more. I want to feel something thrusting and pushing inside, deeper than his soft, diligent tongue can go.

“Inside. Deeper. Harder,” I grunt, not caring if I sound like a needy slut right now. I want it. And if the goons hunting me get their way, I may never get to feel these things again.

“Deeper? Harder?” Toby’s face lifts, his eyes on mine. “You may not like that.”

“It shouldn’t hurt. Y-you wouldn’t hurt me,” I say with a conviction the complete opposite of the one I held a few hours ago.

I stay still, tensed, the good kind of adrenaline making my pussy tingle as his breath caresses the wet skin, slick with my juice and his kisses.

The pale, handsome face slowly shifts. I don’t scream, but only because my lungs are suddenly frozen. Hard bones and dark hollows around blue orbs shape the face between my thighs, and the smooth, perfectly rigid jaw rubs against my clit and makes my hips jump.

His mouth opens to reveal a long, thick curl of blue-black, a tentacle-like tongue that looks like it would suck out a soul—but instead, it slithers into me, hard and deep, thrusting inside while his jaws trap my soft, squishy mound with its cushion of fat.

“T-Toby!” I cry out as I half-sit, my hands clutching for his hood and connecting with bare bone. I want to be sick or disgusted or turned off—but I’m not. I can’t be.

I’ve never been taken like this in my life. No one has ever fucked my pussy with this kind of obsessed fervor, not with fingers, or toys, or even a cock.

I see stars all right, pinpoints of light in the blackness suddenly floating through my vision.

I thought all those romance novelists were full of shit.

Nope. I scream like a banshee and grind against Toby’s mouth as his tongue does complex maneuvers inside me, figure eights, or maybe some secret linguistic chant to open portals to the afterlife. I don’t care if he looks like a monster at this moment. He takes me to heaven and back. When I collapse, making a noise that’s a cross between a hiccup and a mewl, he rolls me over and slides his hand underneath me, palm flat against my clit.

“Bounce on that love. Fuck that hand,” he whispers, voice like a snarl, and I obey, riding the wave of pleasure that crests and falls, then rises higher. His tongue enters me again from a different angle, and somehow, it’s even better.

I scream out a half-sob, face buried in the blankets. I’m breathing too fast. I’m feeling too much. I might die from this.

I might even be okay with it.

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