Page 40 of Jewel of the Sea

Aymee yawned. “I knew the time with you would be worth it.” She found his hand and laced their fingers together as much as his webbing allowed. “And I was right.”

He held their intertwined hands up, turned them slowly, and lowered them again. She was on the verge of drifting to sleep when he spoke, his voice low. “I have never mated with anyone.”

She smiled and kissed his shoulder. “I know.”

Chapter 8

Aymee’s brow twitched. A cool breeze wafted over her, tousling her hair and fluttering her clothes, and she shivered as it made its way up her skirt. The sound of waves was louder than usual, as though the entire ocean were in her bedroom. Inhaling deeply, she stretched. The weight on her lower body gave her pause.

A slow smile spread across her lips — the tentacles wrapped around her waist and legs, keeping her in place, belonged to Arkon. He held her in one arm, hand at the small of her back. Despite some stiffness after a night on the ground, there was nowhere else she wanted to be in that moment.

She opened her eyes. A faint, early morning glow tinged the sky, granting her vision of him outside the night shadows. His chest rose and fell with his gentle breaths, and minuscule movements flickered through his tentacles and suction cups. The intimacy of their position sent a rush of heat spiraling through Aymee, creating a sudden, needy ache between her legs.

One of his tentacles shifted. Moving hesitantly, it slowly slid up along her inner thigh.

Her breath hitched. Arkon tensed.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

His tentacle resumed its upward path, suction cups trailing whisper-kisses over her skin. Aymee fisted her hand against his chest and parted her thighs when the tip of his limb brushed her mound through her underwear.

Arkon shuddered. The tremor ran from his chest, through his arms, and along his tentacles, turning his light caress into a needful press. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. She lifted her pelvis toward him, seeking the ecstasy of his touch.

His trembling hand gripped a fistful of her shirt as he brushed the tip of his tentacle over her again and again, each stroke sending a thrill of pleasure through her.

It wasn’t enough.

She trailed her hand down, between their intertwined bodies, and slid it beneath her skirt. Her fingers moved over the smooth, soft skin of his tentacle before finally settling on her thigh.

Aymee paused, her tension and desire reaching new peaks with each passing second.

This is what I want.

Hooking her finger in the fabric, she tugged her underwear aside.

Arkon’s tentacle froze against her parted sex. The single, simple touch made her moan.

“Aymee.”

She’d never heard Arkon’s voice like that — a low, husky, desperate growl clawing up from his chest.

He withdrew his tentacle abruptly. Before she realized his intention, he released his hold on her and rolled away.

Aymee gasped as she tumbled onto the sand. Pushing herself up on her hands, she raised her head.

Arkon was upright, his back toward her, shoulders heaving with ragged breaths. The tension in his body exaggerated the definition of his muscles.

He’d put at least two meters of distance between them.

She moved onto her knees and fisted her hands in her lap, squeezing her thighs together in hopes of easing her arousal; it felt somehow tainted, now.

What have I done?

She’d pushed too far, too soon.

“Arkon?”

“I…I just… A moment, please.” His head dipped briefly and then tipped back. “I’m not…not accustomed to…”

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