Page 22 of Kept By the Kraken

My smart scientist has a dirty mind and I’m going to enjoy learning what makes her wet. She wants to be bedded by a beast? Good, because she’s been claimed by one.

I push her back against the stone wall, crowding into her space and binding her wrists above her head with one of my hands. She lets out a huff of surprise as I slot my knee between her legs and wrap my other hand around her waist. I want her to feel me everywhere, to start getting used to the idea she’s mine. I’ve been holding back since I met her, torn up about how I could honor my lost family and be hers. The guilt isn’t gone, but my desire to push her away has vanished.

I lean in and let my beard rub against her cheek as I murmur in her ear, “Does it make you wet to think about being filled with tentacles or trapped on a monster’s knot?” I suck down the column of her throat until I get to my marks, kissing each one reverently. “Does it cause you to touch your pussy and come on your fingers?”

Penelope grinds her center against my leg and her arousal blooms in the air between us, earthy florals dipped in honey. I sneak my hand lower on her waist and swat her ass.

“Penelope?” I ask in warning.

“Yes,” she moans. “They make me curious.”

“I like that you’re so curious. Even when I was frustrated with you digging into my secrets. I want to learn yours.” I dip my hand between her legs, rubbing her pussy through the cotton of her sweatpants.

She looks at me with those irresistible eyes, her voice soft. “I think I might let you.”

“Good. I want to start with your body.” I grab a handful of her ass and pull her closer, taking her lips in a demanding kiss that’smore tongue than finesse. I grind against her, letting her feel how hard she’s made me. “Make me a TBR of books that made you wet.”

My hand slips under her shirt, down the soft roundness of her stomach, and beneath the waist of her sweats. She’s wet already and so responsive, her breath panting against me at the first touch. My fingers stroke over her pussy, back and forth until she moans for me.

I slide my other hand into her hair, fisting it until she’s held in place against the wall. Nibbling along her neck causes her to squirm against my hold. “Not yet.”

I fuck her on my middle finger, knuckle deep as she grinds her hips down onto me. It’s sexy as fuck watching her swivel her hips and her eyes glaze over with lust. My finger slows and I add another, circling her entrance then scissoring them to train her to take me.

“We’re gonna need to stretch you, Wildcat.” She’s so fucking tight. Last night when I claimed her, I was mindless, lost to my Beast’s need to rut and claim. I won’t be so reckless again.

“I like a little pain with my pleasure,” she gasps.

I fuck her faster, filling her with another finger until she is three deep and rocking on my hand. She moans and her nipples poke against the fabric of the T-shirt. They’re too tempting. My teeth claim one then the other, before I take turns sucking them into my mouth. When my thumb strums against her clit, she goes off for me, her pussy clenching my fingers as she comes all over my hand. I ease her down, kissing her lips and massaging her scalp.

She watches me with heat-filled eyes as I slide my fingers from her pussy, bring them to my mouth, and lick my fingers clean. “I’m going to eat your pussy later just to see how wet you can get.”

I adjust my aching cock, tempted to take her right here. But the light has begun to turn with the incoming sunset, and I promised her we would watch it while we ate dinner in the tower.

Penelope pinches the skin on her forearm.

“What the hell was that?” I grumble.

“Checking to see if this is really happening?” She smiles at me again, and it’s so full of giddiness that my heart tumbles, skipping a beat.

“Shifters are real. You’re my mate. Claimed and bedded.” I swing her over my shoulder, and she giggles.

“I probably shouldn’t admit how hot that is,” she says breathlessly.

“Too late.” I swat her ass playfully and jog up the stairs.

I set her down on the spread blanket in the lantern room. She moves the tray I brought up earlier between us and gives me another of those guilty expressions.

“It will still be good,” I promise her. I rip off a chunk of the flatbread and dip it in the stew. The first bite is rich and salty. It’s lukewarm but good, reminding me we haven’t eaten in too long.

Penelope follows my lead, taking her own chunk of bread and dipping it in the bowl. She moans at the first bite. “I can’t believe I helped make this.”

“You picked it up quickly.”

Despite what she said about her knowledge of the kitchen, she caught on. She helped me finish rolling the dough and frying them in the pan.

“Thank you for answering my questions.”

I grunt in acknowledgment and take another bite. We fall into a comfortable silence as we eat and watch the sun set through the lighthouse windows.

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