“I do. I’m dying to feel you, to be inside you…” With a hooded gaze, he glanced up between my legs. His handsome face was illuminated by the overhead fixture, making him look like a wicked, tentacled angel with eyes glowing soft red.
“Good. Because I can’t stand the anticipation.”
A look of surprise crossed Spiro’s features.
Did he think I was a blushing virgin? Well, he didn’t know me yet.
Spiro moved me to the edge of the counter, while his tentacles spiraled around my ankles, moved between my thighs, and roamed under my hoodie to seek out my nipples.
The gentle graze over my hole announced his welcome presence there. He placed a kiss on my thigh and watched my expression.
I nodded in a wordless invitation he seemed to be waiting for. His tentacle swirled over my pucker, lubricating it with what I assumed was Spiro’s natural goo he’d used on me before.
I relaxed on an exhale and let him in.
The thin tip slid in and moved farther until I felt suckers graze my rim. A whimper left me, and I arched, slipping closer to the edge.
He held me and placed my legs over his shoulders, nuzzling my calf, which was still clad in my patterned socks.
The pressure on my rim increased, even though he didn’t push in farther.
“Did—” I moaned. “Did you just make your tentacle thicker?”
“Yes.” He smirked and took my cock halfway into his mouth with one swift move. He swirled his tongue, sucking with an intensity that drove me crazy with lust.
My breath quickened as heat washed over me. I was so close my thighs trembled, and I lost my grip on the counter, relinquishing my body to Spiro completely.
A loud ding sounded, and I looked around, confused.
The pressure inside me was gone, and Spiro pulled away.
“No!” I gasped, grabbing at him to pull him to me.
“Patience.”
“I can’t. I wanna come.” I whimpered. Tears threatened at the back of my eyes. With a defiant look, I grabbed my cock and stroked. It was not the same.
“You can. I’m not stopping you. But if you wait for me, it will be worth it.”
“Oh no. You’re a philosopher too.” I let go of myself and pouted.
Spiro chuckled, washed his limbs in the sink, pulled the two round trays from the oven with tentacles wrapped in kitchen towels, and set them aside.
“These need to cool down.” He took a whisk from the bowl and licked the batter, his tongue going around the tiny metal spirals.
“Ah, so that’s how you learned your tricks.” I was so mad at him, but he was too endearing to hate.
Spiro smirked. “Maybe.”
“So you’ll make me come today? Promise?” I thrust my chin up.
“I don’t want you to be sore.” He was playing with me. Fine.
I rolled my eyes. “Do you know what the French call an orgasm?”
“La petite mort,” he replied immediately. “I had a French lover once.”
“Exactly. A little death. And I have nine lives.” I showed him my tongue and wagged my tail.
