Page 17 of Guarded By the Spider

My skirt was sky high—and I realized he hadn’t changed my clothes on that part of me. Maybe my dad threatened him with death if his hands came anywhere within the no-no zone.

I supposed it didn’t matter. I mean, he didn’t have parts, or if he did, there was probably no way they could talk to mine, soooooooo?—

“Oh, fuck, really?”

He was extruding silk and lashing me to his back.

“I promise not to move, my man,” I said, while clucking, but I realized the futility of fighting at once—plus, also his claws were like very-super-close. At least the silk wasn’t sticky? It seemed like the same stuff my shirt was made of—but it was tight. “Anyone every tell you you had a future in bondage gear?”

But by then he was through, and there was no moving.

Something I appreciated as he climbed up the wall, into the tunnel, and started moving almost vertically.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” I said, squeezing my ass cheeks to try to peep over his shoulder as he tilted so that we were crawling straight up.

Once we got there, it stopped being half so frightening. “Fuck,” I huffed—but he’d lashed me down so tightly I couldn’t help but feel safe.

And his eight legs kept our passage smooth. Every once in a while we would slow down, as he considered which path was best—based on what?Who the fuck knew!—but once he did he would lead us on with the same comfort and speed as a luxury sedan. I knew we were covering a decent amount of terrain.

“You’re like my driver, spider-dude. All you need is a coat, a tie, and a smart hat.”

He didn’t do or say anything to let me know if he heardme, or my tone, or anything else that might be meaningful between us, which was something of a blessing as the path we took began to change, diving back down.

The path was still rough, with rock outcroppings and boulders that he was having to sway back and forth to avoid, and now I was pressed to his back by my own gravity. My thighs were spread wide so that my knees were on either side of his torso and...fuuuuuuuuccckkkk.

I gritted my teeth and tried to push off of his back, so that I wouldn’t be grinding against him, because I was still fiercely horny—but nothing under my nipple line cared.

“Oh, come on,” I hissed, as he twisted slightly. There were ridges across his lower back, created from the protective plates that lined him, that probably helped to channel off water or spread his natural shiny wax, but right now they were riding up against me in good-bad ways.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered.

It didn’t seem like he had any idea what was happening, which was good, because I didn’t want to come on him like this. Being betrayed by my own body was not my idea of a good time. But my thoughts raced in the same rhythm as my body rocked back and forth, and needs I couldn’t control raced through me.

Come on, Sloane, are you really this desperate?Oh, God.I could fuck anyone I wanted in my real life, in my above world life!—Fuck—fuck—no—oh—of course up there, with all my money, I’d never know if they really loved me—oh—oh—oh—fuck!

I wriggled one of my hands free with massive effort andput it over my mouth so I could bite it just in time to keep myself quiet but nothing could stop my hips from beating against his lower back as I came, and came hard. The kind of orgasm that ripped itself from you in one low longing moan, or would have, if my hand weren’t sealed against my mouth.

Oh—fuck.Oh—fuck.

What the fuck was happening to me?

If you’d ever told me in my former life I’d be masturbating on a spider, I would have laughed and asked for what you were smoking.

Goddamn.

I lay against him, panting. Was this what it was like to be sober? Pre-kidnapping, it’d been awhile, but I would’ve tried to go straight a lot earlier in my life if I’d known it would make me come this hard.

Another quake ran through me as his ridges pressed again.

Fuck.

For his part, spider-dude didn’t let on a thing. He was still taking us along whatever path he’d decided was best for his strange spidery reasons. Maybe he thought I was just back here picking a wedgie. I didn’t know, and it wasn’t like I was going to bring it up.

Then he turned to take a different tunnel, and it was all I could do not to groan. I thudded my head into one of his shoulder plates. It didn’t help—I’d have to bludgeon myself into passing out if I was going to stop. Because if I didn’t get off of his back like this and quickly, he was going to make me come again—and again—whether I wanted to or not.

Oh.

My.

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