Then, one powerful tentacle wraps around my waist, another sliding beneath my knees, and suddenly I’m airborne—lifted from my chair with a strength that makes something primal unfurl in my stomach. He carries me through my small kitchen like I weigh nothing, taking me toward my bedroom.
And I want nothing more than to surrender to whatever comes next.
Chapter 8
Uncharted Waters
Ashe
Safe in Roark’s arms, I feel weightless as he carries me across the room. A question that’s been burning inside me suddenly rises to my lips. “So this is—” I start, then have to swallow hard when one of his tentacles brushes the sensitive underside of my breast. “This is your first time?”
The lighthouse beam sweeps across us, illuminating his expression—raw with such wonder that it steals my breath. His tentacles cascade around me, creating a sanctuary of limbs that feels impossibly intimate.
“I’ve waited lifetimes,” he says, “without knowing what I was waiting for.”
Something primal and hungry unfurls in me at his words. All those lukewarm dates with cautious men who treated me like I might shatter, all those nights I had laid awake wantingmore, wanting something I couldn’t name… Maybe I’ve been waiting too.
“Show me,” I whisper, reaching for him. “Show me what you’ve been waiting for.”
His tentacles respond before he does, surging around me with barely controlled need. One slides beneath my shirt, the suckers creating patterns of pressure against my skin that make me arch into his touch. His pupils dilate as he watches my reaction, cataloging what makes me gasp, what makes me press closer.
“Your skin,” he murmurs, awe threading through his voice. “So warm and responsive.” A tentacle traces the waistband of my jeans. “I want to feel all of you.”
I nod, my throat too tight for words, and lift my arms as he carefully draws my shirt upward. The cool air hits my skin, immediately followed by the velvet heat of his tentacle as it traces the lace edge of my bra. My nipples harden beneath thefabric, and he makes a sound—half purr, half growl—that sends heat pooling between my thighs.
“I dreamed of this,” he confesses, a tendril curling around my breast, a sucker finding my nipple through the lace with unerring precision. The sensation—gentle suction mixed with the slightest scrape of texture—pulls a whimper from my throat. “Of learning every sound you make. Every place that makes you tremble.”
His eyes hold mine as his clawed fingers work at the button of my jeans, sliding the zipper down with a deliberate slowness that has me squirming. “Please,” I breathe, not even sure what I’m asking for. More. All of it. Everything he can give me.
He seems to understand. His movements become more confident, less hesitant, though there’s still a reverence to his touch. A tentacle slides lower, beneath the denim, exploring the slick heat it finds there.
“Ashe,” he groans, his voice dropping so deep I feel it vibrate through my bones. “The way you feel…”
Words desert me as a sucker finds my clit through the thin fabric of my underwear. The gentle pull creates a sensation unlike anything I’ve experienced—pressure and release, delicious little pulses that have me arching off the bed. His other tentacles tighten around me, supporting me as I shake apart under his careful exploration.
“Yes,” he breathes, watching me with something like wonder. “Show me what you need.”
In response, I tug him closer, my fingers exploring the junction where tentacles meet torso. He shudders when I find it—a specialized tentacle nestled between the powerful base of his limbs, thick and visibly swollen with arousal. It’s nothing like human anatomy, yet unmistakably male—textured with subtle, spiraling ridges beneath my fingers, and slick with its own natural moisture.
“Fuck,” I breathe, wrapping my hand around the base where it’s thickest. His whole body goes rigid, tentacles tightening around my thighs and waist. “You’ve been hiding this?”
His laugh is strained. “I wasn’t sure if it’d be too much.”
“Too much?” I stroke the length of him once, twice, watching his face contort with pleasure as the tentacle twists and curls against my palm with a mind of its own. “I’m literally naked with a cthulhu in my lighthouse bedroom. I think we’re past ‘too much.’”
His tentacles twitch against my skin, the suckers leaving little marks I know I’ll find tomorrow. “You taste like flowers blooming by the beach,” he murmurs, the words almost dreamy as the suckers on his tentacles pulse against my inner thighs. “Did you know that? Salt and sweetness. My kind memorize through taste—each suction cup has a memory of its own.”
The thought that he’s cataloguing me, learning me on a cellular level, makes me dizzy with want. “So you’ll remember?”
“Forever. Every spot that makes you gasp, every place your pulse races beneath your skin.”
I guide his specialized tentacle toward my pussy, beyond teasing now. “Then give me something to remember too.”
His eyes flash molten gold in the dark, and his tentacles lift me effortlessly as the tip of his specialized tentacle presses against me—alien and perfect—and my breath catches at the girth of him.
“Careful,” I whisper, though my body is already yielding, wanting.
“Always.” Two tentacles wrap around my waist, controlling my descent with maddening slowness as he starts to fill me. The stretch burns in the most delicious way, my body accommodating his inhuman size inch by inch. “Though you take me so well.”
