But I established a long time ago that I’m not smart.
“You could make it up to me.” I stare into his face, all hard lines that stop him from being anything as tame aspretty. He’s as harsh as the ocean itself. His eyes are inky black, but they’re not emotionless. Not when he’s staring at my mouth in something like agony.
The Kraken King wants me.
The thought thrills me, which only confirms that I really am a fool. I wet my lips, and he follows the movement, his whole body tensing in a way that sends a thrill down my spine.
“How?” He clears his throat, and when he speaks again, his voice is lower. Rougher. “How would you like me to make it up to you, Catalina?”
Turn back.
Turn back now!
I ignore the little voice inside me. “Will you give me your tentacles, Thane? Make me feel good?” I don’t know why it feels safer to ask for them than his cock, but it does. I meant what I said about not having kids, and while I’m on the pill, none of my stuff made the transfer with me to the demon realm, so I’m not protected right now. Reckless as I may be, even I have lines.
“You want sex.” His voice gets colder even as his eyes go hot. “I almost killed you, and now you want orgasms.”
It takes far more effort than I’ll ever admit to shrug as if I’m not holding my breath. “Seems a fair trade.”
For a moment, I’m sure he’ll tell me to fuck right off with that twisted logic. I almost hope he does. Itistwisted. He doesn’t mean me harm—of that I’m sure—but that’s a long way from caring about me. Thane obviously doesn’t. He doesn’t even like me.
It only makes me want him more.
I know it will hurt in the end. It always does. The knowledge has never stopped me before, and it’s not going to stop me now. “What do you say?”
“If you want me to stop, say stop.”
I barely have time to process his words before he moves. Or, rather, his tentacles move. They surge up my legs and catch the hem of my dress. One jerk from either side, and they rip it right up the center. It was too tight to wear anything underneath, so there’s not a single scrap of fabric to protect me from the intensity of Thane’s stare.
He wraps a tentacle around my waist and lifts me before moving us both toward the bed. Once again, he keeps a careful distance between us, standing at the edge of the bed as his tentacles slide over my body. They circle my wrists and tug them over my head to pin me against the mattress. Two more tentacles wrap around my thighs and press them wide.
Gentle. He’s so damned gentle with me. It doesn’t matter. I pull on his hold, and I might as well try to fight against iron for all I can move.
Desire surges, so strong that it takes my breath away. “That’s a start.”
His brow furrows. “You talk too much.”
I ignore the sting of the statement. Mostly. “That’s only because you’re not doing your job properly. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to talk at all.” I take a breath to keep going but moan when the tips of two tentacles prod at my pussy.
He parts me, and as exposed as I feel right now, I can’t stop looking at his face as he stares at the apex of my thighs. Thane looks... tormented.
That’s new. Normally when I take partners to bed, they’re enthusiastic or withdrawn, but I’ve never been looked at like I’m the source of every irritation in their lives and yet they can’t stop themselves from touching me. It’s a heady thing, even as it hurts a little.
Thane chose me for the bargain. He turned down Azazel’s offer to change me out. He took the barest invitation from me and ripped off my clothes and spread me out like his own personal buffet.
I don’t know why he’s acting like he doesn’t want this.
There’s no opportunity to ask, though. Not with him pressing one tentacle into me. It doesn’t feel like anything I’ve experienced before. It’s not hard like a cock or fingers or a dildo. It’s certainly not warm and wet like a mouth, though a tongue is the closest comparison I can find. Even if the texture isn’t quite right. His tentacle is cool and almost fluid as he explores the inside of me.
God, that feels good. Really good.
I try to keep my eyes open to watch his expression, to drink in the utter concentration on his face. It doesn’t matter if he seems conflicted. He’s doing what I asked and making me feel good. And he’s doing itwelltoo.
The tentacle inside me twists, and I cry out. Thane freezes. “Good?”
“Good,” I gasp. “Keep doing that.”
After a beat, he resumes the movement. Twisting and twisting. I distantly register that he’s feeding me more of his tentacle, filling me almost uncomfortably, but I can’t think past the pleasure pounding through me in time with the beat of my heart. Is he usingsuckersdown there? Is that what the steady pulsing is inside me? It’s so good, and yet, even as it builds, I’m not certain I can get there. “My clit. I need you to touch my clit.”