Page 11 of Hook, Line, and Tentacle
He noses along my jaw. “Not in here.”
My breath stutters. “Fuck you.”
“Maybe later.” His chuckle is low and smug.
Then his touch—allof it—resumes its slow, seeking perusal. One of the appendages coasts up my ribs, careful and smooth and under my clothes this time. I shiver as it pauses just beneath the swell of my breast, right where it stopped before—then he waits.
I arch, chest and hips pressing into him.
“That’s better,” he praises. “Let me make you feel good, Neviah. I promise I will. I’ll make you forget everything but this.”
The tentacle curls around the bottom of my breast and lifts.Another joins it, a slick line tracing upward to circle my nipple. It tightens under the attention, pulling a gasp from me.
“You’re so soft here.” His voice lowers, roughened with want. “So responsive. I could spend hours just teasing you like this.”
I roll my hips into the space between us, desperate for friction, but he’s moved backward slightly. “You’renotspending hours.”
“I could.”His tentacles stroke over my nipples again, slow and rhythmic. Smooth, wet pressure without suction, just heat and drag. My legs tremble. “I bet I could make you come just playing with these. They’re very pretty. Do you like me touching them?”
“Please,” I whisper. It doesn’t exactly answer his question, but I think it gets the point across, more or less.
He hums low in approval. “Please what?”
“More.” The word whips out of me, quick and desperate. “I need more.”
The tentacle that had been teasing the line of my ass slips between my thighs and under my sleep shorts to trace the hem of my underwear. My breath catches on a moan.
“I can feel how wet you are.” His mouth brushes my ear, and I lift my chin from his shoulder to chase the contact. “I haven’t even fucked you yet. I’ve barely touched you. Are you really that needy?”
I feel like my head is underwater. My voice is barely audible when I ask, “Can I touch you?”
He stills. Not all of him—the tentacles still move of their own accord, stroking, teasing—but his body freezes. He blinks down at me, like the question knocked something loose inside him.“You want to?”
I nod, leaning in to press a slow kiss to his throat. I feel the hitch of his breath when I do. “Yes. Please. If you want.”
A low, pleasured sound rolls out of his chest, vibrating into mine. “Yes. I want.”
His body tenses when I run my hands over him—over his ribs, his chest, the domes of his shoulders. He’s huge. Thick all over. His skin is still slick, impossibly warm, and the muscles beneath twitch with every glide of my fingers.
The tentacle at my waist tightens, not enough to bruise, but enough to remind me he could hold me still with just that one.Others still absently stroke the backs of my thighs, teasing over the curve of my ass. But the one between my legs is the only one I can concentrate on. It drags slow, lazy circles against my clit through the fabric of my underwear, barely giving any pressure at all, just presence.
I palm his chest, then drag one hand down over the rise of his stomach—broad and solid, not flat but warm and soft in a way that makes my thighs press together, trapping the tentacle teasing there. He’s the perfect balance of strength and comfort, a life lived, and it makes something hungry uncoil inside me.
His expression flickers as I go lower. He lets me trace the edge of his jeans, fingers just slipping beneath the waistband. A shudder runs through him. His jaw flexes.
“You should be careful,” he murmurs, voice rougher now.
I look up at him, breath shallow. “Why?”
“I don’t want to lose control.”
My thighs clench again around the teasing pressure between them, and I press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “What would happen if you did?”
He exhales sharply, like the question stings. “I don’t know,” he grits out. “I’ve never lost it. I don’t plan to now.”
Something is pulling back. The tentacles around me tremble, twitching like they’re caught between instinct and retreat. One slithers away from my thigh, another loosening from my hip. Cal’s whole body is taut, like he’s holding himself together with sheer will.
I cup his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “Okay. I’m sorry. It’s alright. Please don’t stop.”
