Page 51 of Nora's Kraken

This is the man who’s been so tender and careful with me, the pirate with the wicked gleam in his eye, the kraken who wants to treasure me.

Mine.

I let him move me how he wants, melting into the warm, slippery sensation of being enveloped completely. He’s everywhere, all at once. With our torsos pressed together and the rest of me being slowly, deliciously teased and caressed, the last of my reservations slide away with the water cascading over us.

Low against my belly, his front tentacles part, and my hand brushes over another that’s different from the rest, stiffer and shorter, with a blunted head and ridges up and down its length.

I stroke it once, twice, and Elias groans out loud. He drops his head to rest against my collarbone, breathing a little shakily.

I run my hand up and down him again. “What is this?”

He takes a few long seconds to answer. His hips thrust into my touch, and the tentacle I’m holding fucks against my hand like he can’t help himself.

“My mating tentacle,” he says, voice harsh and hoarse. “It functions like… like…”

He’s missing beats, not quite able to form a sentence as I continue to touch and explore him.

“Like your cock?”

A shaky nod is all I get in return.

“Is this… is this alright? Touching it like this?”

Again, he can’t speak, can’t do anything but thrust against my hand and make a low, almost-pained sound in the back of his throat. I take that to mean ‘yes’, but after how he played with me earlier, I’m not letting him get off that easily.

“Words, Elias,” I purr, stilling my hand and smirking at him.

He still doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he wraps a tentacle around my wrist, squeezing gently. I glance down at the restraint before meeting his eyes again, blue-black with desire.

“Yes. And I’ll show you just how I like it.”

Firmly, he guides my hand up and down the length of him, thrusting to meet each stroke. The growl in his chest gets louder, and when he leans in to whisper against the skin just below my ear, it sends a shot of liquid fire through my veins.

“Harder, little siren. Like you mean it.”

I’m not gentle with him, not hesitant or reserved in the slightest as I tighten my grip. Groaning, he takes my mouth again, plundering, knotting his hands into my hair and pinning me to him while he continues to fuck into my grasp.

Elias is wild, undone entirely, and the surge of power it gives me to see him like this makes me work him even harder.

In my hands, his mating tentacle is slippery not just from the water, or the smoothness of his skin, but seems to be leaking its own lubrication directly from the tip. Thick and viscous and weeping over my hand, my curiosity gets the better of me. Pulling my mouth from his, I raise my fingers to get a taste, only to have my wrist bound again just a few inches from my eager lips.

“Little siren.” Elias’s voice is strangled.

“What? Is it toxic or something?” It’s all over me by this point, smeared across my hands and arms and stomach, so I really hope it’s not.

He gives his head a sharp shake.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“There’s no… you just don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Though he still looks a little pained, Elias nods, and his tentacle drops away from my wrist. I hold his deep blue gaze as I bring my hand up and slip two fingers into my mouth, watching his predator’s focus track every movement.

When the taste of him bursts across my tongue, though, I have to close my eyes. I moan at the sharp, impossible flavor of seawater and sunshine and crisp ocean breezes.

I want more.

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