Page 2 of Twisted Desires

“That’s a shame for you,” says the lake monster. “They really are quite useful.”

Lost for words, the first thing that pops into my head is what spills from my lips. “I can imagine.”

His dark brows quirk, and he moves closer still. “Can you?” he asks, his voice dripping with salacious promise.

I blink, realizing what I’ve just fallen headlong into. Oh, hell no! “I, ah—I guess you don’t get many visitors?” I ask lamely, attempting to deflect and diffuse the unnerving and increasing tension.

“No, I don’t. You’re the first in a very long while,” he drawls, moving closer.

“Do you have a name?” I blurt, desperate to stall the monster’s deliberately slow and predatory advance.

“I do.”

Closer.

“What is it?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Closer.

I swallow the stubborn lump in my throat and feel my cheeks flush with an impossible heat. A tentacle slithers around my waist and I ignore it by sheer force of will. “Well, what am I supposed to call you, then?” I ask. “How do I thank you properly if I don’t know your name?”

“I do not give my name lightly, pretty girl. For tonight, you may call me Master … and I can think of other ways you might show your gratitude to me if you so desire.”

My heart thrums in my ears as tentacles snake around my wrists, pulling my arms above my head. A gasp escapes me, and then the monster’s lips are pressed to mine, his tongue snaking between them to explore my mouth. Despite the coldness of the lake, his kiss is surprisingly warm. His hands reach for my face, alighting softly on my cheeks, before trailing down my neck, to my sodden, see-through t-shirt to cup my ample breasts.

I break the kiss, trying in vain to pull back, but he holds me firm. There’s nowhere to go. And there’s nothing I can do. He has my arms secured, and a fore-tentacle wrapped firmly around my waist. “Wait,” I breathe, breathless as a heady mixture of fear and curiosity dances through me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it feel like, pretty?” he drawls, tweaking my frozen nipples painfully with a wickedly suggestive smirk.

I yelp, then bite my lip. “I-I…” I stutter, starting over a handful of times, seemingly unable to get the words out. It’s like I’ve lost my command of coherent speech. I scream internally in frustration.

“Let’s keep this simple,” the lake monster suggests. “How about I ask the questions, and you simply answer with yes or no?”

With no other option available to me, given my shameful and sudden tongue-tie, I nod warily.

“Wrong answer,” he says, tweaking my nipples again.

A yip escapes me, and I fight to keep my breathing steady. “Yes,” I gasp.

“Yes, what?” he presses, his glowing eyes holding my gaze.

Fucking Jesus! What the fuck am I supposed to do? Play along. The answer pops into my head unbidden. It might be the only way to survive until morning… Truthfully, I don’t know shit about this monster. Is it benevolent? Or will it finish what the lake started when he’s had his fun? I can’t possibly know. But there’s at least five damn hours until the sun rises and no chance of help whatsoever.

The only thing I can do is agree with my feminine instincts. They’ve helped countless generations of women survive the ages despite their abusers. So, I’ll play his game and with any luck, tonight won’t be my last.

With my resolve steeled and my heart set on survival, I take a deep breath. And though my voice quivers with fear, I give my answer. “Yes, Master.”

Chapter Three

The monster’s smirk would be enough to soak my panties—if they weren’t already saturated with freezing-cold lake water. I shiver in his grasp as a tentacle snakes under my skirt, the transparent fabric sticking to my chunky thighs like a wrinkled second skin.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises as my legs spread of their own accord. “I may be a monster, but I know how to please a woman.”

My brows furrow and I bite my lip, whimpering as his nubile appendage begins to play with my clit. Conflicted, I try to pull away, but in the same breath my body betrays me, and my hips lean into the monster’s ravenous touch.

“Look at you. Your modest mind and childhood fears would have you withdraw and fight me. They would force you to deny your innermost twisted desires, but your primal soul craves me. I can see it, smell it … taste it,” he finishes. He steals another kiss as the tentacle between my legs ramps up its wickedly delicious ministrations.

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