Page 147 of I'm Not Your Pet

Just the need to get this dick—and then the other—inside his mate.

Deeper, deeper, he’d pressed. And with every inch, his reaction had grown stronger. His panting was loud, his big hips beginning to grind, these needy little swivels, like he simply couldn’t help himself. “I am…I am…” Roark had managed, voice hoarse. “My cock is inside…of you?—”

His second dick had fanned along the curve of my ass, suckers pulling tight, and leaving hickeys in their wake. It’d wriggled, fighting toward my crack like it wanted to sink inside beside the other.

I’d almost told him no.

But when Roark had grabbed it and began feeding its pointed tip alongside the other, I didn’t want to.

“Oh—” His head had dropped back, the corded line of his neck flexing as both tentacles pushed an inch inside me. Then two inches. Then three. I had been so full I couldn’t do anything but lie still and take it. My dick was leaking—making a mess all over my thighs and stomach, streaks of cum spilling free as Roark pushed and pushed and pushed.

When he was halfway inside, all I could do was breathe. Tears smeared my cheeks, and the pool of drool beneath my mouth was a lake at that point, as my thighs strained and Roark shuddered behind me.

“Oh,” he’d managed again, pulling out till only the tapered tips of his cocks remained, before pushing back inside, slow and deliberate. “Oh.” Both his hands had squeezed my hips, biting in as he pulled out, only to push back in again, harder this time. “Huu-goh,” he’d moaned, undulating. “You feel so good.”

Once he’d got going, he couldn’t seem to stop.

And I hadn’t wanted him to.

I’d wanted to stay speared on his cocks for the rest of all time.

I’d never been happier.

Ever.

In all my life, as I was right then with Roark fucking into me like a beast in heat. His thrusts had grown more erratic as he got closer, and one of his cocks slipped free—so he could pound deeper. He’d grunted, tongue lolling, his eyes empty of anything but lust as he moved his grip from my hips to my back, pushing me flat to the mattress so he could really go to town pounding into my ass. My hole wouldn’t stop clutching at him, slick and open any time he pulled free. The ridged texture of his suckers popping in and out as they clung to my inner walls.

“Uh, uh, uh,” I’d gasped out with every thrust, my hands lax, my entire body lax—actually. Like I had no muscles or bones at all. “Uh?—”

“Take it,” Roark had murmured—probably the dirtiest thing he’d ever said. “Take it—” His hand had tightened, pushing harder into me as his pace picked up. Faster, faster. “Please—please?—”

When he’d spilled it was with a broken roar. The flood of his cum was leaking out before he’d even finished, sluicing down my thighs and onto the bed. And then he was pulling free—and I was empty, empty, empty—full, full, full, because his second cock was pushing inside now, ready to take its turn.

By the time that one had finished too, I’d cum at least three times myself, entirely untouched. The mattress had been a sticky mess when Roark’s tentacle slipped free. He’d keened, the lax appendages tapping my ass, as if to say thank you—before falling limp in a sticky smear right behind my balls.

I couldn’t move. Not even a muscle.

Which was why I’d barely done more than twitch when Roark had sunk down between my thighs and proceeded to eat his cum right out of my hole—along with my own natural slick—until it was empty, and I’d cum a fourth time, totally dry.

He was gentle as he cleaned me up—coming back to himself slowly. Long, warm swipes of his tongue cleansed worst of my sweat as he’d stroked over my body. He’d rubbed feeling back into my limbs, whispered sweet nothings into my hair. Petted me, pampered me, and groomed every inch of my body.

“Did you like it?” Roark had asked when the sheets were cleaned and I was snuggled inside a warm pink cocoon of his making. I’d hummed, blissed-out and ready to rest.Answer him, I’d reminded myself,or he’ll get worried.

“I think I’m in heaven,” I’d told him, honestly. “My ass won’t stop twitching.”

He’d snorted out a laugh, bending down to snuffle against my cheek. His tongue flickered out again, long and wet, to “kiss” my lips, before dipping inside them. I’d sucked on it gratefully, lashes still wet from how much I’d cried.

When he pulled free, because he was a sweetheart, he’d checked on me again, “Did you like it? We do not have to do it again if you did not?—”

“I loved it,” I’d said immediately. “I love you,” I’d added, twisting to meet his gaze, because this felt important. “We should do that again,” I’d said, my ass still loose and gaping. “Maybe not every day—because holy shit, I don’t think I can walk after that—but often.”

Roark had barked, his eyes squinting into the sweet crescents I loved so much. “Okay,” he’d said, nuzzling my cheek.

“What about you?” I’d asked, surprised when my limbs worked well enough that one of my hands could rise to stroke his big pink cheek. “Did you like it?”

“I would erect a statue in your honor if I could,” Roark had promised. “I would build you a chapel with my bare limbs. To show my gratitude to your body.”

“Oh jeez,” I’d snickered, nuzzling his snout with my nose. “Please don’t do that. My ass appreciates a different kind of worship more.”

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