Page 46 of Bound to the Marak

But the sight of him, fully aroused, still stole her breath.

At his core, he bore a thick, ridged shaft—obsidian-dark, pulsing faintly with luminous veins of blue. Around it, delicate, supple tentacles—seven of them—shifted and twined in an almost hypnotic rhythm. They pulsed as if reacting to her, tasting the air between them.

The combination was nothing she could have imagined.

Exotic. Fearsome. Stunning.

Her mouth parted, but no words came. Heat curled low in her belly. She stared—helplessly fascinated.

And Karian… he watched her watch him.

He looked utterly pleased.

Like a god being worshipped, his form bathed in the glow of his own power, and hers.

And somehow, she wanted him even more.

Twenty-Nine

He lifted her higher with a fluid grace, his tentacles tightening their hold, and yet… they didn’t hurt. They were strong, yes, but soft, like living silk—each one wrapping around her limbs with exquisite control. One around each wrist. One coiled just above each ankle. He held her open, suspended in the air, a goddess in offering.

She gasped, the helplessness of it mingling with something hotter. Something darker.

Never had she imagined submission could feel like this—like power.

Her body arched instinctively toward him, needing more. He moved beneath her, his black eyes locked on hers, glowing faintly, the markings along his cheeks pulsing like starlight. His expression was unreadable—half worship, half hunger.

Then he lowered his head.

And everything changed.

She cried out—not in fear, not even in surprise, but in overwhelming sensation as his mouth touched her. Alien and yet somehow intuitive, he moved with a precision that made her legs tremble, if they’d been free to move at all. His tongue—longer, hotter than any human’s—slid against her with devastating expertise.

She had no words. Just gasps. Just the sound of her own breathing echoing through the glass chamber.

Her fingers curled uselessly against the air as wave after wave coursed through her, deeper and sharper each time. It was as if he could sense everything she felt and used it to drive her further. His tentacles flexed slightly, not to restrain, but to match her rising rhythm.

He was relentless.

Reverent.

And when her release came, it stole her breath entirely—leaving her boneless and trembling in his grasp, light bursting behind her closed eyes, a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She had never… not like this. Never even imagined it was possible.

And still, he did not let go.

Cradled in his limbs, she felt the steady rise and fall of his breath against her thigh. He was tasting her like a delicacy. Like something sacred.

And it wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Her body was spent, but her mind—her heart—was burning now, full of questions. Full of wonder. Full of him.

Thirty

She trembled in his grasp, her body still pulsing with the aftershocks of what he had given her. Her taste lingered on his tongue, a sweetness unlike anything he had known—warm, complex, utterly addictive. He hadn’t known such pleasure existed. He hadn't known he was capable of it.

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