Page 6 of Twisted Desires

Chapter Six

“Something the matter, pet?”

I blink at the monstrous dick that twitches before me. Its smooth head has a soft rosy blush which stands out against the brighter orange shade of his flesh, and the deep, dark purple of the glossy, pulsing veins that spiral around it like choking vines. This vile beast is so fucking long and thick that I have no idea how it could possibly fit inside my cunt, let alone my mouth! Jesus Christ. As the cold vise-grip of reality tightens its cruel fingers around my throat, I realize I’ve just fucked myself over, big time.

Suppressing a sigh, I lick my lips and kiss my freedom goodbye. There’s literally no way I’m capable of taking enough of that in to do anything for it. Quite frankly, it’s petrifying. It’s a beast of its own fucking merit. Maybe if I had no damn teeth, I’d have a better chance of shoving at least some of it to the back of my throat. But I know straight up, just by looking at it, that that bitch of a cock is too much for me. Too much for any human gob. Fuck.

“Hm?” the monster prompts, raising an eyebrow in an all-too-knowing query.

“Just kill me,” I say, cringing at the sickening defeat in my own voice.

“I will do no such thing. You are my prize.”

“You knew,” I say, my lower lip wobbling as I fight back tears. “You lied to me. You said there was hope, but there isn’t any! Just look at that bloody thing.”

The monster bristles, perturbed by my brash accusation. “The hope was never for your freedom, Bethany. The hope was mine—for me—that you would become my mate.”

“Fuck this!” I rise to my feet on the wet rocky ledge and dive, leaping out as far as I can beyond the reach of his tentacles. For several breathless moments I’m free. I break the surface again, gasping down a lungful of cool air as I begin to power through the dark water with whatever strength I have left. An insane, futile glimmer of hope springs up, buoyed by my unhindered escape. Is he letting me go? Maybe he doesn’t want a mate that doesn’t want him in return. I mean, he could have stopped me if he wanted to.

The choppy waters of Lake Superior toss me about like a rag doll, and I must fight not to be pulled under into the swirling depths coursing through the subterranean cave system. Running on pure adrenaline, I soon find my reserves failing me. Fear isn’t enough, and I’m reminded again that I’m an unfit buxom bitch. I’m no reed that can be carried safely away on the tide … I’ve got tits the size of watermelons, an ass that has its own postcode, and thick thighs for days. The fuckers might look bouncy and generous in spandex, but now they’re just dragging me down and tiring me out. And I don’t have enough energy to combat the wrath of the lake during a Halloween storm, and deal with a fucking monster.

Maybe if I wasn’t still hungover, half-frozen, and jelly-legged from multiple orgasms, I’d stand a better chance. But I guess I’ll never know, because in the next instant I feel the unmistakable grip of a tentacle ensnaring my ankle. I scream into the night in frustration. He’s not giving up on me. He’s never going to let me go! I can’t even bloody drown myself because he’ll save me, not because he’s a great guy, but because he needs a nice chunky breeder to bring his little devils into the world. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Another tentacle seizes me around the waist, and I’m drawn backward through the rough water, thrashing like a worm on a hook, until I’m face-to-face with the Devil of the Lake once more. I cough up the water I’ve managed to breathe in, and glare at him through the darkness. “I fucking hate you,” I spit. Drawing my arm back to slap his stupidly beautiful face, he catches my wrist with ease, as if he saw what I had planned a mile away. I flail in rage and frustration. “None of this is fair!” I scream.

The monster watches me as he holds me at waist height in the water, a look of amusement quirking his lips. “Life was never meant to be fair,” he says. “And you did not hate me a short while ago, Bethany. In fact, I think I gave you more pleasure than you’ve ever known.”

I fold my arms and look away, brooding as I’m held at arm’s length like some kind of frenzied kitten that might hiss and scratch if he lets me get too close. The worst part is that he’s not wrong. This tentacled, orange octopus bastard is a magician in the bedroom … or should I say sea-cave? He expertly extracted more ecstasy from me than I ever dreamed possible. And one thing is for sure and fucking certain: he has ruined me for all men. How can I go back to ham-fisted fumbling, and two-minute quickies—where I get zero satisfaction—after this? It’d be like tasting ambrosia, then being forced to eat dirt for the rest of my life.

As my rage simmers down, I find myself wondering and questioning my own resolutions. Why am I so angry? Why do I want to escape so damn much? What do I have to go back to, anyway? Debt for a college diploma that I don’t even enjoy? Friends who had no qualms throwing me away at the first given opportunity? Parents that I never see because they’re workaholics? And I fucking know they’re secretly ashamed of me. They are both slender and driven, whereas I’m an overemotional lost soul who eats her goddamned feelings.

They likely couldn’t even care less if I just vanished. It’d probably be a relief for them. It’s not like they’d even have to mourn. They’d still have my little sister, Suzy, after all. The bubbly, blonde, energetic, and skinny preteen cheer queen. What am I but their overweight mistake? I’m unwanted by my family, friends, and almost every man I’ve ever met. It’s like I’m the butt of some cruel cosmic joke.

On the rare occasion some half-drunk sod hooks up with my needy, low self-esteemed ass, their mates laugh and make barking noises at us—as if I were nothing but a four-legged fat bitch, literally—and mockingly call their buddy a chubby-chaser.

Yet, my brain slams on the breaks so hard I get mental whiplash, and my mindset does a fucking radical roundhouse Chuck Norris style. Yet, this admittedly gorgeous lake monster literally desires me above all else. He wants me to bear his children. He wants to spend all the long years of his monstrous life span with me. And he wants to pleasure me and fuck me until I’m a blithering subhuman mess of woman…

Not to mention he did save me. I’m not his second choice, or only choice. He has the luxury of time. He could tear my fucking head off and skull-fuck me and not think twice about it. But instead, he says Fate has delivered me to him. He. Desires. Me. And ... sweet fucking hell! I think some twisted, dark, and unapologetically adventurous part of me desires him too. Maybe, just maybe, we are Fated.

“Fuck me,” I breathe as my gaze snaps up to meet his. Sudden clarity washes over me like the butt-fucking cold waves of Lake Superior.

“Is that an option, pet?”

Chapter Seven

This man—this male—this monster is my chance to start over and have a new life. Together, we can build our own family, just like he said—one that would last almost forever. We’d have each other, always. Until the end. And no one would ever shun me or hurt me again. “Yes,” I say suddenly, surprising even myself as a small smile plays upon my lips.

“Truly, little wench?” he asks, clearly suspecting a ploy or trick.

I don’t blame him, I think to myself. I did just have an epic meltdown and tried to escape.

“Yes,” I repeat. “But there are conditions.”

The lake monster quirks his brows and a deviant grin splits his face. “Name them,” he says, his gaze hungry.

“There are three,” I warn. “First, I want to know your name, because I’m sure as hell not calling you Master all the time. It should be saved for sexy times,” I reason.

A growl escapes the monster’s throat, and the tentacle around my waist tightens ever so slightly. “A name is a sacred thing. I haven’t shared mine with anyone but my son, not even the other women,” he answers. “To know a monster’s name gives you power over them—the ability to summon them and control them.”

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