Page 59 of Citrine

She growls out a breath. "Fine."

She moves her grasper and starts touching the parts of my graspers and tentacles she can reach. Each touch feels like I'm in a riptide, and she seems to learn where to touch from the way my body reacts.

Perhaps the curiosity of her species is useful after all.

"I swear, it won't hurt for you to be agentleman. I understand being the strong and silent type, but you won't do yourself anyfavorsif you keep being sorude. Don't your people learn some form ofrespect? Do you even have the concept ofetiquette? No, I doubt you would. After all, you're abrutewho…"

My listening drums have become numb from listening to her as they tune out her words. Her graspers never stop moving, which is impressive. Her fingers move along the ridges of my suckers, finding sensitive spots I don't even know I have.

She's very skilled, I can tell, but I don't feel like saying it. Talking will be interpreted as engaging in conversation and I don't want that.

"It's such an interesting feeling. I wonder if this is why some people want to keep anoctopusas apet. Would it work as apet? I've eaten one before, but I don't know much about them. Would they be a closerelativeof yours by chance? Of course not. You're not even from the sameplanet."

Her graspers move further below, and the sensations travel with them. My mating tentacles want to burst out of their hiding place, but I contain my urges.

They are urges I shouldn't even be having, but somehow, this female manages to bring out the best and worst in me. It is an unfair comparison if I place her against the other females I have met because there are none I can compare her to.

None can touch me askindlyas she does.

29

Eli

Even though he's an alien, he has the same glossed-over look in his eyes my exes had when they were listening to me rant, though I should praise him for staying perfectly still while listening to me.

I can't tell if I've just dated men with undiagnosed ADHD or I'm just a parrot because it was quite regular for them to stand up and walk around, some avoiding a conversation all together. I have once heard the phrasepretty girls shouldn't talkbefore.

Sadly, while the misogyny in the statement I reject, I can't deny that my running mouth is a problem.

Still, the words spill out like water bursting from a reservoir. It doesn't help that my brain is constantly working overtime to churn out more thoughts and my anxiety heightens the more he touches me.

I can vividly feel every move he makes and the slightly rough suckers on his tentacles. I don't know if he's doing this intentionally.

No. I doubt he is. This is completely foreign territory for him.

My body is shivering from the inside out. There's an instinct, a desire bursting from deep inside my body beneath my blubbering foolishness, waiting to break out of my skin. I can feel it in every touch, every caress.

"W-Wroahk?" I ask, surprised by how light my voice is.

I feel his chest rumble, deeper than any man's I've ever rested on. He's speaking again.

"What is it?" he clicks back, his tone surprisingly soft.

"I… never mind."

"You do not hesitate to speak your mind, but now you pause?"

"Well, it's… I can't explain it. I feel strange."

"Do you hurt?"

I hesitate to reply. My breath is caught in my throat and the sensations build.

Heat pools to the lower part of my body as I try to form a coherent thought. He's right. Normally, it's hard to render me speechless. And it's not like I haven't felt desire before, but he is not the least bit human. And an asshole.

"I… don't."

"Your body is becoming warmer. Why?"

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