Agatha struggles to turn to face me, but I’m not ready for that yet. My arms lock across her ribs, my tentacles twine around her legs, and she gasps again, the sound mixed with more shuddering sobs.
“Humans aren’t the only friends you can make in this world. I haven’t seen a human man rushing to comfort you.” I blot out the thoughts of the handsome warlock who obviously cares for her. I refuse to think about the heads she must turn every day. “I’m here to protect you.”
Possess you. Devour you. Desire you.
“What are you?”
“I told you that.”
She’s silent. Her shoulders relax under my biceps, and she asks in a timid voice, “Not a ghost?”
“No. I never died. I just changed forms. Remember what else happens in your dreams?”
The slight sourness of fear evaporates, and the honey and rose scent floods me, making it hard to breathe or even think.
Fortunately, I don’t need to. I loosen my grip enough to let her turn or run—and she shimmies deeper into my embrace, moaning as I wrap my tentacles around her thighs and waist and my hand around her throat.
I TRY TO REMEMBER EVERYTHINGI’ve learned about hallucinations, about how I felt when I thought I was having them.
I didn’t feel like this. Confused, but safe. Like a trust exercise, when you walk through the room blindfolded, counting on your partner to lead you? It’s like that. There’s no sense of panic or fear, just puzzlement, relief, and the desire I shouldn’t admit to.
Is this real? Maybe not. I don’t understand what Lucius is, I don’t know why he’s here, or why I can feel him when I’m not asleep, but his body curls around mine in a strong possessive grip, and the handsomest face I’ve ever seen hovers above me.
“Let me distract you. Let me comfort you.”
“Yes, yes, God, yes,” I whimper. I don’t care if this is real or a dream right now, because I know I’m in my right mind. I’m angry and sad and shocked—and that’s all normal and rational under the circumstances.
Strong arms and legs—tentacles, I have to call them tentacles, compress me, and the hand around my throat massages, squeezes as his lips crush mine. I’m smothered but safe. Arnie, drugs, and my past can’t get me in here.
I kiss him back, and the surprised, grateful sound stokes the fire that’s been trying to burst into full flame. I don’t tell Lucius I haven’t been with a man in years. I don’t tell him that my first “serious, planning a future together” type of boyfriend was my last and only. That he betrayed me so badly that all thoughts of romance since then have been strictly bound between the pages of a book.
“I’ve been alone for a thousand years. I would have claimed you the first night I watched you read a book if I weren’t sofoolish—and if this world didn’t make me so weak.” His words circle my ear as his tongue drags across my throat.
I have better nighties for this. The first time I make love in years should involve one of my good, silky nighties!
Lucius doesn’t seem to care. A person who wants me for me wouldn’t care about the trimmings, I guess. “You’re not weak,” I gasp. Tentacles writhe up my sides, light and feathery when they stroke under my shirt. Strong and thick, like those workout rubber bands when they latch on and pull. For a second, there’s the urge to scream—because these things shouldn’t be able to reach so far—should they? But my eyes meet Lucius’, and there’s nothing to scream about.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I whisper in wonder. No man has ever looked at me so intently, with such a mixture of emotion on his face. His lips can’t decide whether to smirk with skepticism or smile sweetly, and they switch back and forth.
“You thought I came to you in your dreams, but I didn’t. Now I’m afraid this is my dream, and that I’ll wake up without you in my arms.”
Well, melt me like butter on a griddle, why don’t you? “If this is real or a dream, we’re in it together,” I reassure both of us as best I can.
“You’re not afraid of me?”
“Not really. You’re here in the real world, and that means you’re not in my head. I like that best.” I confess with a wavering smile.
“Oh, I will be in your head by the time this night is over, Agatha. You’re already in mine. I’m supposed to invade your world, but you invaded mine instead, captured and conquered. Little Empress,” he growls, and the tentacles around my legs tighten and pull.
I never liked it rough, but there’s something about how Lucius touches me that’s perfect. It’s not harsh or mean, but it’sdemanding and forceful. Pressure points light up all over my body as he kisses me senseless, one hand back to caressing my throat with just enough pressure to turn my pussy into a leaking faucet. The stroking tongues dance up my calves and then pull down, tearing my sweats over my ankles. When I gasp, Lucius pauses, then resumes, not asking for permission to pleasure me with the rippling tentacles that are now covering my calves, my thighs, my stomach, and even circling my breasts. When he wriggles them, it feels like a thousand kisses on my skin, but when he grabs me, it feels like there are hands, everywhere.
Is this some new kink of mine? Do I want dozens of men touching me and groping me at once? The thought makes me shudder, especially since Arnie’s leering, evil face is suddenly in the forefront.
But this is just one man—one phantasm, I guess—and he can do it all.
And I love how it feels. “Oh, God. So good,” I wheeze out, airflow compressed and eyes rolling back as twin suction begins on both nipples.
“I’ve been waiting to touch you like this, with nothing between us,” Lucius has the same strained, desperate tone as he tugs the collar of my baggy old shirt off over my head. My breasts bounce free, only to be captured again by shadowy black snakes, sucking and nipping, working me into a frenzy. “Every inch of you—so beautiful. I know.”
