Page 16 of Stranded with the Kraken
Arielle squeaks as I flip her over on the bed, then press my lips to hers. Kissing her is like coming home. She’s everything I ever imagined finding in a woman, and I can’t hold back my hope anymore. If she decides she doesn’t want me after we get to know each other, I’ll have to deal with that. But for now, I’m all in. She needs to know how much I want her to stay.
I nibble and lick my way down her body, feasting on her skin. She arches underneath me, squirming, and digs her fingers into my hair to pull me where she wants me. I love how demanding she is as a lover. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.
Somewhere deep in my mind, a small voice warns me that I should keep at least some of myself back, that this is the way to ruin, but the need for Arielle drowns it out completely.
She spreads her legs for me. I settle between her soft, pale thighs, my mouth hovering over her pussy. She props herself up on her elbows to meet my gaze, and I stare directly at her. Then I open her pussy lips and lick her for the first time. The taste of her explodes on my tongue, sweet and creamy, with just a hint of tang. Arielle’s eyelids flutter, and her belly draws down on a sharp inhale.
“Lie back, baby,” I order. “Let me take care of you.”
She puts her trust in me once more, and I reward her by sucking gently on her clit. I don’t want to overwhelm her—and this isn’t a race. I want to savor her, discover what she loves, and bring her an orgasm she won’t forget. I lick into her tight channel, fucking her with my tongue, and she rides my face shamelessly, seeking more friction. I press on her clit with my thumb, and she mewls, her voice hoarse.
“Make me come, Jasper,” she cries, “I can’t take it anymore!”
I chuckle against her slick flesh. “You can. Just hold on a little longer.”
She’s impatient, but somewhere deep inside me, I know this is what she needs—it’s as if her body is giving me a roadmap to her pleasure. I’ll fuck her hard and fast after this, but I need her to realize she’s worth more than just a quickie.
Her full breasts rise and fall with each panting breath, and she switches from cursing me for not letting her fall over the edge to begging again, but she doesn’t use her safe word, and she doesn’t push me away, only pulls at my hair to keep me right where she wants me. I grin at the pain, rock-hard and ready for her again.
I lift my face from Arielle’s pussy. “I’m gonna make you come now,” I rasp. “And you’re going to let yourself feel it, okay?”
“Yes,” she sobs, “please, please, just— Ah!”
I slide two fingers deep into her clenching pussy and hook my fingers up, nudging at that sensitive spot I found last night with my tentacle. At the same time, I suck her clit between my lips and flick the tip of my tongue over it, once, twice, and she comes, her hoarse cry the most beautiful sound in the world. Her pussy squeezes down on my fingers, and she grips me with her thighs, then goes limp underneath me. She shudders again and again as I slowly bring her down.
Finally, I gently remove my fingers from her pussy and lick them clean, then swipe a hand down my chin and kiss the inside of her thigh. “That was incredible,” I say, looking up at her face.
A jolt of horror goes through me. Arielle is crying, silent tears streaming from her eyes, down her temples and into her hair. She flicks her gaze at me, then groans and covers her face with her hands, rolling to the side.
I hover there beside her, cock still hard because the idiot hasn’t gotten the memo that a woman weeping in bed isn’t a good sign.
“Arielle?” I say quietly.
I reach out to touch her shoulder, then jerk my hand back, unsure if she wants me to touch her. Probably not. Gods, what an idiot I’ve been.
“I’m sorry,” she croaks, her voice broken. “I didn’t mean—”
She hiccups and buries her face in the pillow, like I did earlier, only her whole body is tense now, instead of relaxed like I wanted.
I draw the blanket over my lap so she won’t see my erection, then move the other end of the blanket over her body. She hasn’t sought to cover herself, but surely she must be uncomfortable if she’s crying.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I choke out. “Just—please. Tell me what to do. Do you want me to go?”
I glance out the window at the relentless snowstorm and know how difficult it’ll be for her to return home in this weather. Still, I’d move fucking mountains to get her to a place where she’d feel safe.
But Arielle unrolls herself from her position and sits up, her eyes red-rimmed, some of last night’s mascara smeared under them. Her hair sticks to her sweaty face, and her cheeks are flushed, but she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. My stomach sinks with the realization that I hurt her—somehow, I fucked up and hurt her.
“What?” she says. “No! I don’t want you to go.”
I stare at her in confusion. “You don’t?”
She scrubs at her eyes with her fingers, then curses when she sees the black stains on her skin. I reach over to my nightstand for a tissue—what can I say, being a kraken means resorting to self-love more often than not—and hand it to her. She dabs at her eyes, then pushes her dark hair back and lets out a long exhale.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, staring at a spot between us where she traces a pattern in the covers with her fingers. “This is so fucking embarrassing.”
I reach for her hand, relief surging through me when she doesn’t pull away.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask.
