Page 80 of Jewel of the Sea

“What just hap—” A slow smile spread across his lips. “I understand. I shall now make myfirstattempt.”

He reached down with exaggerated delicacy, easing the tip of the brush into the jar of red paint. His attention shifted to the wall, where he painted — with equal concentration — a triangle. His lines were surprisingly straight, though he applied the paint somewhat unevenly.

She watched from her periphery as he lost himself in the activity; he built on that first triangle, positioning more around it at varying angles and colors, only allowing shapes of the same color to come into contact at their corners. Both his concentration and his excitement strengthened as the pieces came together, though he still managed to cover his hands in paint.

He asked a few questions as he worked. Aymee showed him how to mix colors to create new ones, and the process brought a look of wonderment to his face. His early attempts were less than appealing, but he quickly learned the relationships between the colors and grew better able to predict what the combinations would produce.

They painted until a section of wall at least three meters across was covered in shapes and images, blotches of color and lines.

Aymee turned her head toward him and grinned; his intense focus was endearing. She stepped closer and ran her brush down his arm, creating a blue line a few shades darker than his skin.

He paused and looked down at his arm, brow furrowing. “Are we not meant to be painting the wall?”

“I’ve decided to paint you.” With a few flowing motions, she painted a series of spirals and lines on his chest.

“I do not believe I make a very good canvas,” he said, and his skin changed to match the color of the paint, making it disappear.

Aymee laughed as she rinsed her brush, dipped it into the white paint, and created another design on his abdomen.

Arkon smiled and leaned down to dip his brush into the jar of orange paint. “I’ve no desire to ruin your clothing. Will you remove it...or shall I?”

Immediate desire flooded her. “Which would you prefer?” she asked.

One of his tentacles reached forward, encircled her waist, and drew her close. “I prefer to have my hands on you.” He passed the brush to another tentacle and carefully unbuttoned her shirt with his fingertips and claws. His skin changed again as he did so, making the paint on his arm and torso stand out against its rich maroon.

“What does that color mean?” she asked as he pushed her shirt aside, baring her breasts. She let the garment fall to the floor along with her paintbrush.

He ran his palms down her sides, trailing paint over her skin, and hooked the waistband of her pants with his fingers. “It means I amveryinterested in my new canvas.”

The tips of his claws lightly grazed her legs as he slid her pants down; though heat suffused her, she shivered when she stepped out of them.

“And what will you paint on your new canvas?”

He dipped his chin, moving his gaze down her body. “Now that I look upon it in full, I find it too beautiful to mar with my amateur attempts.”

Aymee’s breath quickened, her nipples tightened, and she squeezed her thighs against the ache growing between them. His words, paired with his gaze, brought her body to life.

Arkon’s eyes darkened, violet irises eclipsed by the black of his pupils.

He advanced, and Aymee retreated until her back hit the wall. Pressing his palms to the surface on either side of her, he leaned in close. His tentacles slid up along her bare legs, caressing, and she willingly parted them for him. Suction cups lightly kissed and tasted her flesh.

She placed a hand on his stomach. The muscles beneath her palm rippled as she slid it down. His slit parted when she teased it with her fingers, and his glistening shaft thrust out. Aymee curled her fingers around him.

He growled, baring his teeth, and tilted his head toward her. A shudder coursed through him, and he covered her mouth with his. His arms remained anchored to either side, but his tentacles moved, brushing her thighs, her breasts, her hips; the tip of one slid along her sex.

She gasped against his mouth and he deepened the kiss, his tongue beckoning hers to join in a sensual dance. The tentacle between her legs spread her nether lips and stroked the sensitive bud hidden there. Aymee moaned and rocked her hips, wanting —needing— more. Her arms looped around his neck and she drew herself closer, pressing her breasts to his chest. Fire spread through her as she moved against him. Her breasts ached and her core clenched.

“Arkon,” Aymee begged, tearing her mouth from his. She undulated on his tentacle, panting out the words as she climbed to a peak. “Please. I need you.”

He dropped his hands to her ass and lifted her suddenly. His tentacles forced her legs around his waist. She clutched at him as he lowered her onto his waiting cock, seating her fully upon him with one powerful thrust, filling her, stretching her.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

The feelers at his base found her clit and stroked.

She broke with a crescendo of cries.

Waves of pleasure swept through her, and she was caught in their current. Aymee squeezed his sides with her legs, digging her heels into his back, and clawed his shoulders with her nails. Warmth pervaded her, and her sex tightened around him, inner muscles quivering and drawing him in deeper.

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