Page 146 of I'm Not Your Pet

“Ushuu gave me something,” I’d told him. “So that you can fit.”

It had taken Roark a second to process that. And when he did—it was like a switch had flipped. I was glad. As much as I liked the slow build and the teasing he enjoyed, I’d been wanting this for so long I didn’t have the patience to wait any longer.

He’d had me on my knees faster than I could blink.

His tentacle-dicks were slick and wet as they dragged over my thighs, over the curve of my ass, and then fought to get inside my crack. “Do you need stretching?” He’d asked, the heat of his breath at my ear sending my mind spinning.

“No,” I’d gasped out—because I didn’t.

Still though, because he was Roark—he had to tease.

Tendrils, not his cocks, slid between the slick at my hole and gently pushed inside. He’d been training me, steadily, surely—for this moment. We’d been building up to this. And we would’ve done it, even without Ushuu’s serum.

So it felt second nature to let him slip inside, the slurp-wiggle of a tendril growing thicker and thicker as it stretched me. “You are so wet for me,” Roark’s voice was reverent.

“I am,” I’d agreed, because I was.

“How?”

I’d get into it later. But I just wanted to enjoy this. “Science,” I’d said, making a little explosion motion with my hand. Roark had laughed, and his tendril drove deeper. Deep enough it pushed against my prostate and thoughts of science officially fled my head.

It felt so strange. In a good way. But strange all the same. The wriggle, swell of something far more dexterous than a dick spreading me wide. When a second tendril had slipped in with the first, I’d thrashed, arching my back and pressing into it.

“Stars above, you are needy,” Roark had said, again, like it was a miracle. “So…beautiful. Look at how pink you are here,” he’d purred softly as he stared at where he was fucking me open. “We match.”

The squelching noise was filthy. So fucking filthy.

A third tendril had tapped at my stretched rim, rubbing almost politely, like it was requesting entrance.

“F-fuck,” I’d whimpered as it began to wiggle its way inside with the other two. On and on, it went. Three became four, then five—and I was stretched so wide I could hardly get a breath in, panting into the mattress as Roark’s tongue squeezed so tight around my neck my vision swam.

When his tongue had retreated and his tendrils slid free, I sobbed.

“You are ready now,” he’d decided.

I’d left a rather sizable pool of drool on the mattress, but hardly noticed as I nodded. Smearing my cheek into it, I glanced over at him. He’d looked so…serious as he shuffled into place, one massive pink hand grabbing my hip and angling my body up as his other hand aimed his thinner cock tip at my hole.

It was tapered, just like his tentacles were—but that was where the similarities ended.

Roark’s cocks were as wet as my hole was. The pointed tentadick poked and prodded, slipping an inch inside as Roark gaped down at my ass like he was seeing God for the first time. He’d been panting, his nostrils flaring, tongue hanging out of his fang-y mouth.

He hadn’t seemed capable of doing anything at that moment other than staring at my ass, and what he was putting inside it.

I’d never seen him like this.

Sure, I’d gotten the beast out of him a couple times—but never…never like this.

“You are so tight,” his voice was low and brittle. “You are so?—”

He’d pressed in a little deeper. And that was when the burn had started. Not in a bad way—in a good way. In a way that had made my lashes feel heavy, and my balls draw up tight. The feeling of Roark entering me was good. So fucking good. Especially when that first sucker popped in. It’d convulsed against my inner walls, sucking at them, pulling the tissue snug enough it had made my eyes roll.

Better than that, however, was the expression on Roark’s face when I peeked at him again.

The wonder.

The hunger.

The fact that I was pretty sure for the first time in his life there wasn’t a single thought in his head. No worries. Nothing.

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