Page 12 of Hook, Line, and Tentacle
He doesn’t move, just watches me with pupils blown wide, eyes black in a sea of darker black. His breath is ragged.
I keep my voice low. “Can I… can I kiss you?”
Something shifts in his expression. His hand lifts slowly, cupping the back of my head so his fingers thread into my hair. I think he doesn’t know if he’s holding me in place or anchoring himself.
The first press of Cal’s lips is soft. Almostshy. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my mouth exactly as it is now, before we gofurther. I fucking hope we’ll go further.
I tilt my head, and the air around us pulls tight. The kiss deepens fast, turning hungry as his mouth opens against mine. His tongue licks into me like he’s been dying for it, and a low, choked groan leaves his throat. It’s such a deep sound it feels tectonic.
The teasing tentacle in my underwear finally slides under the hem, slick and careful, and finds the seam of my pussy, gliding up and down. I gasp as it glances my clit, curling close but never quite giving me what I need.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“I don’t want you to stop.” My voice shakes, but not with fear.
The tentacle begins to stroke me in earnest—still barely pressure, just rhythm, building and teasing. I rock against it, chasing every smooth glide over the swollen, wet line of my slit.
He groans again, like this is torturinghim. “I should stop. I have to stop.”
“You can stop if you want, but I don’t want you to.” I tug at his bottom lip with my teeth, and he grunts. “That would upset me. You seem very invested in not upsetting me.”
He shudders, and I can feel his fight. His breath breaks ragged against my lips. The tentacle between my thighs pulses.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice carries a warning, but his touch doesn’t stop. Another slow glide over my clit, firmer this time, coaxing a whimper from my throat. “You feel how wet you are for me? How easy you open up?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please—don’t stop.”
His grip tightens at the back of my head, fingertips digging into my scalp. It’s not harsh, but it’s enough to hold me still, like he needs to be sure I’m anchored.
“You’re soaked. Dripping for me. You’d let me open you up, wouldn’t you? Let me fill you and hold you until you come apart in my arms. Is that what you want, Neviah?”
My body jolts. I don’t answer the question verbally, but I’m not convinced I need to. I’m grinding down against the tentacle now, chasing every slick drag of it against my clit.
Cal hisses through his teeth. “Fuck, I can feel you. Every little flutter, and I’m not even inside you yet. You’re close already, aren’tyou? You’re going to come just from this, from one of my tentacles teasing this pretty pussy.”
I nod. I can’t form words. They’re all gone. My talking days are over.
“You want more?” His voice is guttural, something almost atavistic in it. “You want to be stretched and filled and made mine?”
“Yes—yes, please—”
“Such a good girl. Now show me.” The tentacle around my waist drags me against him, lifting my body to rock me over his erection. All the while, the tentacle in my panties continues driving me closer to that sweet edge. “Show me just how much you want to be mine.”
He sucks a kiss into my neck, and everything goes hot and sharp. My spine arches. My legs quake. My mouth falls open, but no sound comes out at first—just the rush of breath and pressure and overwhelming release as I come hard, clutching at him, grinding down against the thick, slick pressure he gives me.
He catches me when my knees buckle. One tentacle stays between my legs, still stroking gently, coaxing aftershocks from me while I tremble in his hold.
Cal presses his face into my throat like he’s trying to breathe me in, his chest shuddering. His tongue darts out over the mark he left, soothing the sting, until I bring his lips to mine, soft and searching.
He leans into the kiss, hand still cradling the back of my head, and I melt against him.
Then he freezes.Something in him goes rigid and cold. I feel it like a bucket of ice water over my head.He jerks back a half step, breaking the kiss, and every part of him retreats in a sharp snap like he’s been burned. I blink, stumbling with the loss of contact as I try to stay upright.
“Did I—” My breath snags when I look at him. “Did I do something wrong?”
His face doesn’t move, but something shatters behind his eyes.
“Don’t come back here.” His voice is as flat as his expression.
