Page 10 of Seducing Scylla
Scylla gestures to me and the bed with a wave of a hand and I scooch back, not really sure where this is going. Her incredibly tall frame leans over me, her tentacles taking up most of the spare room across the tiny cave floor. She sits at the base of the furs, and with a tenderness that catches me by surprise, cradles my injured foot in her hands, inspecting the damage the jagged rock inflicted with glittering black eyes.
Her gentle touch has tingles running up my legs to the sensitive spot between my legs, and I wriggle in the furs uncomfortably. Her touch turns firm, holding me in place before applying pressure and massaging the aches from my feet. I groan, eyes closing at the heavenly sensation, and her fingers pause around my non-injured foot before resuming, their journey kneading north toward my bare calves.
A guttural sound unwillingly escapes my throat, the heat between my thighs building with every firm touch of her silken skin. Eyes closed, I clench my knees together, mentally begging her to stop lest I come right here and now, but to also move higher and higher to take care of this ache that has overcome me. I let out a whimper, brows tense.So close.Scylla’s hands leave my heated skin. My eyes pop open and I realize I’m panting. Scylla’s nostrils flare, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, and I track the movement before quickly averting my eyes.
Catching my breath, I can think a little clearer now that her hands are no longer on me. We eye each other warily, and I’m suddenly overcome with embarrassment, heat flooding my cheeks. I run my hand over my face. I can’t believe that happened.
I clear my throat. “Uh, thank you.”
I know she can’t understand me, but I feel like I have to say something to interrupt the awkwardness I’m feeling. I tuck my legs under one of the furs and lay down. Scylla stares at me a while longer before shifting and sprawling out across the floor. I wish I knew what she was thinking. I swallow a lump in my throat. My baser instincts are yelling at me to ask her if she’d like to share the furs, but I don’t trust myself to be so close to her. The tension in my core is still wound tight without the release I crave. I turn my back to her, tugging the furs up over my shoulders, praying for sleep to take me.
The only clue to the passing of time is the rate at which the fire dwindles, low flickering embers cast the cave in shadows. I toss and turn, chasing sleep that won’t come, my body wound tight with unreleased tension. Scylla hasn’t moved an inch or made a sound and I’m sure she’s asleep. Quietly, I ease my dress up around my waist beneath the furs, cautious not to wake Scylla. This fire inside me has barely abated and I’m desperate to come. I wouldn’t do this on a normal occasion, but this whole situation isn’t normal. My skin itches to be touched.
The risk of waking Scylla has me nervous, my eyes flicking to her still form. I lick my lips, a finger slowly tracing the tight bundle of nerves through the thin cotton of my panties. Circling ever so slowly, I close my eyes and breathe a soft sigh. I tremble and pick up the pace, applying more pressure as I play my body like a violin. I think of Scylla’s firm touch, the velvety smoothness of her skin, the way her tentacles wrap around me when she holds me tightly against her, her scent, and how it reminds me of sunny days at the beach.
I buck beneath my fingers, a soft cry on my lips, shocked at coming so quickly. I lay in the furs, my breathing ragged. I want more. I need more. My release only takes the edge off the ache inside me. I huff and roll onto my side, my body still wound up and frustrated. Black eyes, glimmering with flecks of orange from dying embers, blink back at me from the dark, where Scylla lays. My face burns and I groan inwardly. This is so embarrassing.
12
Scylla
Ilet the fire slowly die so I do not have to bank it in the morning and lay quietly in the peacefulness of the dark. Morgan tosses and turns, and I itch to ease her discomfort. Does she need more furs? Is she too hot? I watch her in the shadows, her body hidden beneath the furs, only her face and hair visible. The soft glow illuminates her orange hair like a flame itself.
She huffs quietly, and I realize she is not asleep at all. The furs shift slightly as she rolls onto her back. She closes her eyes, her lips parted, and I think she has drifted off, but then the furs move in a rhythmic motion, and Morgan pants softly. My body goes rigid. She is pleasuring herself, while I am here beside her. I inhale deeply, the smell of her arousal thickens in the cave, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hands fisted at my sides to stop me from reaching over and taking care of her myself.
I growl softly. My mate should not have to pleasure herself when I can do it for her. But she does not know yet. The sooner we get to the hot spring, the better. We will have another half day of travel before we reach the Pierian Spring and then my mate can wash, and we can fix this problem.
She comes with a soft gasp, her release quicker than I expected, but I am glad for it as I do not think I could control myself for much longer. The urge to peel back the furs and run my tongue along her soft body makes me shudder with anticipation. She rolls toward me, and I meet her gaze in the shadows. Her eyes widen when she realizes I am watching her, teeth nibbling at that plump bottom lip of hers. She squeezes her eyes shut, brows furrowing, and turns her back to me.
I bristle. Does she not know you should never turn your back on an apex predator? I run my tongue along the sharp points of my teeth, fighting the urge to turn her back to me, to show her the consequences of dismissing me with my tongue and hands, teeth, and tentacles. I will have her begging for mercy beneath me as I wring release after release from her delicious body. My limbs twitch around me and I touch the delicate base of my abdomen wheremy eight tentacles extend from my body. The silken skin there is sensitive to touch, and I massage it, groaning as heat radiates through me. Soon, I hope, I will be able to have Morgan in all ways.
Soft morning light streams through the chimney in the ceiling of the cave. Morgan groans beneath the furs, her eyes popping open as I pull them off her. She scowls at me, and I smirk. My mate is not a morning person, it seems. Her hair is further knotted from her tossing and turning in the night, sticking out from her head in all directions. It does little to make her appear intimidating. I appease her grumpiness by handing her some food—more dried mango—and I make a mental note to replenish this cave’s food stores again. Still, she eats it with no complaints, which makes me beam at her with pride. My mate is resilient.
Once we have broken our fast, I lift Morgan into my arms, eliciting a squeal from her. I hum, amused at her protest. Her foot is not mended enough to walk on, and I do not want to prolong our journey any more than I have to. So, carry her, I must. Although, it is no hardship to me. Having her body close to mineignites a fire in me and soothes my soul. I like the way her softness feels beneath my tentacles as they wrap themselves around her almost subconsciously. My body and my brain need her close.
A pink flush spreads up her neck and across her cheeks as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. She refuses to make eye contact with me, and I worry that I have done something wrong. Is she angry at me for having watched her pleasure herself last night? One can hardly blame me when she was in the same room. Or perhaps her release was not enough. I purse my lips. If that is the case, it can be easily remedied.
13
Morgan
My embarrassment from the evening before is quickly forgotten as Scylla carries me into a grotto filled with glow worms that cast a blue glow over the stone walls. My eyes expand at the steam rising from the pool of water in the cave’s center. Warm water is more than I expected, and this is a whole dang hot spring.
Scylla sets me down gently on the cavern floor, the rock slippery and moist with condensation, before gliding into the hot spring and disappearing beneath the surface. My body still feels hot, and I don’t know if the hot spring will ease my discomfort, but I’m eager to be clean. I take this opportunity of privacy to quickly strip down, careful not to slip with my injured foot. Balling my dirty clothes up, I carry them with me as I tip-toe into the shallows of the pool.
The water is glorious as it laps at my ankles, easing away the first sting of having icy cold feet. I slowly wade further in until I am neckdeep and begin scrubbing at my dress and underwear, watching the water cloud with the caked-on sand and then clear as I wring them out and slap them onto the stone to dry, which is probably wishful thinking with the humidity.
I use my hands to scrub my body, making sure I get in all the crevices, and then dunk my head under the water to wash my hair. I break the surface with a deep breath, my now clean hair soaking and plastered down my back. I will never take for granted the feeling of being clean ever again.
Scylla’s head eases above the water, her blue-purple skin illuminated under the glow worms across the cavern’s ceiling. Big black eyes bore into mine and I feel like she’s seeing inside my soul, rifling through my very essence and assessing it. Deep down, I hope what she sees doesn’t leave her wanting. There is something about her that makes me want to appeal to her.
She inches closer to me, her head still just above the surface, the water barely rippling with the movement, and for the first time, I can imagine her as an apex predator stalking her prey. I stay very still, a deer caught in the headlights until Scylla is face to face with me, soclose our noses are almost touching. A tentacle brushes against my ankle. My breathing turns shallow as my body ignites.
“Hello, Morgan,” that melodic voice whispers.
Startled, I rear back. The fire within me drops to a simmer as I increase the distance between us.
“W-wait, what? How can I understand you?” My eyebrows draw together, confused.
