Page 47 of Last Shot at Love

“It’s all work and no play with you, isn’t it Beryl?” Timothy huffed.

His annoyance delighted me and my tentacles flexed and curled in delight… even the one buried between her legs.

“That sums me up.” Beryl’s hands moved to grip the sides of the chair, as though trying to keep herself from squirming. “Which page?”

After a bit of mumbling, he called out another page number, and he started reading it out loud. With my would-be rival focused back on monotonous business jargon, I was free to focus on exploring Beryl’s body.

My tentacle between her thighs flexed, and again I curled it slightly, studying Beryl’s body for signs of discomfort or pleasure. When the tip of my tentacle pushed deep and bumped against her G-spot, Beryl’s breathing came to a halt and her heart skipped several beats in a row.

Bingo.

Kissing the delicate skin of her inner thighs, I locked a sucker on her clit, then began a rhythmic sucking and rocking, stimulating each of her pleasure spots… all at the same time.

I alternated my pace. Fast, slow, then fast again.

Beryl’s fingers turned white on the sides of the chair, and while she kept her upper body rigid, her hips would periodically rock against me.

“Those are the last two questions, I believe,” Timothy’s voice drifted from the laptop, but I didn’t care.

I was too focused on the way Beryl’s body squeezed my tentacle and imagining how it would feel on my cock—or mating tentacle—to care.

Just as she prepared to speak, I released my sucker from her clit. Pressing my mouth between her legs, I worked my tongue against it in fast strokes.

“To answer number one, ah… ah—” Beryl pretended to cough, trying to cover her surprised gasps.

She wrapped her legs over my shoulders. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to close them, or keep me prisoner between her thighs. Since she made no move to stop me, I decided it was the latter.

Beryl was soaked, and the scent of her arousal was the only thing I could smell.

Her body wishes to be bred. Breed her or I will take control. It was an empty threat from my beast. He was strong, but I’d never been weak enough to be pushed aside.

Even with her body on the edge of release, Beryl explained the first question and moved to the second.

And I was ready.

Using the texture-altering abilities of the papillae in my skin, I shifted the surface so that rows of short, rounded spikes spread across the tentacle inside her heat.

It was more difficult, but with focus, I did the same to my tongue.

When Beryl spoke again, I licked. It created a friction against her clit as my tentacle rocked back and forth.

“As for number two, ah… ah—” Again she began coughing and finally wheezed out, “One minute.”

She bent over as though covering her cough, but I caught a flash of her face. Her cheeks were red.

And it wasn’t from the embarrassment that she’d suddenly started counting like a certain vampire puppet. No, her reaction had everything to do with the fact that the rough friction between her legs had pushed her over the edge.

I had to hand it to her. She was an incredible actress.

Beryl quickly recovered and was answering the last of Timothy’s questions… even as her muscles spasmed around my tentacle, milking it and driving all reason from my mind.

Mate, my beast demanded again.

Not yet. I grit my teeth, fighting my shifter instincts. She needs to want me.

Her legs are holding us between her thighs with a stronger grip than we have with our tentacles. And if not for your licking, the chair would have been wet with her cream. Are you too stupid to understand the signs of our mate’s desire? My beast paced, pushing against the walls that kept him from full control of our form.

Her body wants us, but it doesn’t mean her heart does, I snarled back, sweat beading my brow.

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