Page 59 of Heart of the Deep

He leaned down, moving his mouth near her ear. “I ask nothing more than to see you. To touch you. Tofeelyou.”

She released a shaky breath and loosened her grip on the towel. The cloth unraveled, sliding away at Dracchus’s light tug, and pooled at her feet.

Dracchus drew back and groaned deep in his chest as he lowered his gaze. His cock strained against his slit. Her skin was pale, as pale as the faces of the moons at night, sprinkled with those little brown spots on her chest, arms, and shoulders — they were as unique as the markings of any kraken. More so, perhaps, because they belonged to her.

And she washis.

Her breasts were small and high, tipped with pink nipples which hardened beneath his gaze. His eyes traveled down the smooth expanse of her stomach, over the jagged, puckered scars of her pelvis, to settle on the bright red hair between her legs.

He slid his tentacle higher, curling its tip around the back of her thigh and over her hip to brush over the uppermost hairs on her pelvis. His suction cups sampled their first taste of her arousal. His mouth went suddenly dry; he craved arealtaste of her on his tongue.

Larkin gasped, eyes widening as she looked down. She dropped her hand from his chest, grasping his tentacle, while the other covered her scars.

“You don’t want this, Dracchus,” she said, stepping back into the dresser. “You don’t want me. Not really.”

He followed her, keeping his tentacle on her thigh, and took hold of her arms. She struggled as he spread them apart, sliding his hands down to hers and intertwining their fingers as much as possible. “These are yours,” he said, brushing the tip of another tentacle across her scars, “and they are beautiful. Do not be ashamed of them. They are proof of your strength, your courage.”

She stared up at him, pupils large, blue irises so bright they were nearly lost in the whites of her eyes.

Dracchus lowered his head, leaning close enough that her nipples brushed against his chest, and brought his mouth close to hers. He longed to kiss her as he’d seen Jax and Arkon do with their mates, wanted to experience it for himself, but only with her, only with Larkin.

“I’m human,” she said, as though it were a reason to stop, but there was no conviction in her words.

He ran his tentacle over the hair between her legs to stroke her slit. Her hips jerked, and her lips parted as she emitted a soft cry.

Dracchus groaned and released one of her hands to curl his fingers around the side of her neck, tipping her chin up with his thumb. “I want you, human.”

He slanted his mouth over hers. Her lips yielded to him, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and he caressed them with his own — tentative, learning, craving more and more of her. When she looped her arms around his neck, he leaned forward and placed his hands on her sides. He trailed his palms down, cupped her backside, and squeezed the soft flesh, drawing her pelvis against his slit.

The pressure within him built to new heights as she undulated her hips on his tentacle. The heat of her core flowed into him, her oils coated him, and her scent enveloped him, consuming his senses.

She moved her mouth beneath his, and her tongue flicked against his lips, his teeth, his tongue. The kiss deepened with their mutual desire, matching Dracchus’s hunger and then amplifying it. He allowed her to take the lead before mimicking her actions, delving into her mouth with his own tongue.

Larkin panted, her sounds rising steadily in pitch as Dracchus increased the speed of his tentacle over her sex. She clutched at him, dull nails biting into his back, and writhed in his hold. Her reactions pushed him onward as she relinquished control.

His hearts thundered, his skin tingled with want, and his shaft screamed in protest at its confinement, but he would not allow it to emerge. If Larkin was not ready, he would respect that. For now, her pleasure was enough.

As he continued stroking, a suction cup caught on a hard pebble at the apex of her sex.

Larkin’s body stiffened, and she threw her head back. “Oh fuck! Dracchus!”

Her words gave way to desperate, breathless moans, and she squeezed her eyes shut as liquid heat flowed from her slit. He inhaled her scent, tasted her sweetness, and yearned to have it on his tongue.

Biting her bottom lip to quiet her release, she clung to him. Dracchus didn’t relent until her trembling ceased and she sagged in his arms.

He reluctantly unwound his tentacle from her leg and trailed it down the outside of her thigh. “Are you pleased, female?”

Larkin tensed. She drew back quickly, glancing up to meet his eyes for an instant before she ducked out of his arms and snatched up her towel. She moved beyond his reach and hastily covered herself, holding the towel in place with an arm across her chest.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

Dracchus ached with need; he craved release almost as much as he craved the feeling of her body reacting to his touch, almost as much as he wanted another taste of her. Larkin’s inner thighs glistened with the evidence of her own desire.

“Why?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the throbbing behind his slit.

She clenched a fistful of the fabric over her pelvis and pressed her lips into a thin line, cheeks paling. “This is moving too fast. I just found out that krakens existed and now I’m practically having sex with one.” She spun away from him. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Nothing.” He moved closer but hesitated as he reached toward her. Humans touched often, but he’d seen enough of their interactions to know they didn’t always want to be touched. He wished he knew how to tell when that was the case.

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