Page 35 of Hook, Line, and Tentacle
“I need you.” I drag my fingers through his hair. “I need to feel your heart beating inside me.”
He exhales shakily, muttering a curse under his breath, and when I reach down to slip my hand under the waistband of his sweatpants, guiding him to me, he simply follows my lead like he’s helpless to resist.
His cock nudges at my entrance, thick and flushed. My whole body softens around the pressure. The stretch is perfect, familiar, and right. My head tips back on a gasp, falling into the soft cushion of blankets beneath me.
His lips trail along my jaw, to the shell of my ear, where his breath is hot on my skin. “You feel like coming home. So warm, so soft—mine, mine,mine. Every time I slide into you, I think this must be what heaven feels like.”
I moan, clenching around him.
He thrusts slow and deep, and I gasp again, gripping his shoulders. “God,Cal—”
“I’ve got you, little trespasser,” he whispers.
His hips roll in a rhythm that’s more reverence than need, burying him deep before drawing back just enough to do it again. Each stroke is deliberate, unhurried, and devastatingly tender. He’s not chasing release, he’s just feeling this, me,us.
My fingers trace the slope of his shoulders, the strong line of his back, the knots of tension that still haven’t quite eased beneath his skin—and I resolve to give him a proper massage later, maybe even with a happy ending, if he’s lucky.
I press soft kisses to his throat, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Anywhere I can reach.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, and his breath stalls against my cheek.
“I’m not.” His response is automatic, worn with belief.
I frame his face in both hands, my thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “You are. I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”
His eyes go glassy again—still storm-lit and glowing—and he kisses me hard, like he doesn’t know what else to do with the weight in his chest.
A tentacle slides along my thigh, curling there. One strokes my ribs. I match him with touches of my own, though I feel at a disadvantage with far fewer limbs—the pads of my fingertips ghosting down his spine, across his sides, up into his hair. I tug gently, and he groans into my mouth, fucking just a little deeper.
“I love the way you feel inside me,” I whisper, panting now as pleasure starts to build like a slow tide to take me. “You fit me perfectly.”
“You were made for me,” he rasps. “No one else. Just you. My heart, my soul, Neviah—everything. Mine,allmine.”
The words wrap around my heart and squeeze like a fucking tentacle.
“Yours,” I echo in a breath. “All yours.”
He groans, the sound breaking in his throat. “Say it again.”
“Yours,” I repeat, holding his face. “Always. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
His thrusts deepen—not faster yet, but surer, like something is untangling inside him. His voice drops low and hoarse. “You willneverbe alone again. Never lonely. Not you. Not while I’m breathing. Not while I’m alive.”
The rhythm between us changes, subtly at first—Cal’s hips pressing deeper, his thrusts more insistent, the tension in his arms pulling taut. He’s still holding back, though. I can feel it, because I know what it’s like when he doesn’t.
But I don’t want his restraint. I’m not breakable. Not with him.
I slide my hands down his back. “Don’t hold back. I want all ofyou.”
A shudder wracks through him. His tentacles tighten everywhere they grip. One curves around my waist. Another cradles the back of my knee, gently spreading me wider beneath him, tilting the angle of my hips so he can fuck me deeper. One slips between our bodies to rub circles against my clit, firm and unrelenting until my breath shakes apart.
He groans low and broken, burying his face in my neck.
“Perfect, perfect love,” he pants. “Hot and tight and mine. I could live here. I want to live here.” His control unravels, slowly first, then all at once. The rhythm grows harder, faster. My name spills from his mouth again and again, like a delirious sort of chant. My body arches into his, chasing him with every thrust.
“Lookat me,” I gasp. “Cal, look at me when you come.”
He does. His eyes lock on mine—bright, burning, and wild with violet light.
