Page 17 of Claimed By the Deep
Rain falls harder now, warm drops striking my skin and creating patterns across the cove. The storm clouds transform afternoon into intimate darkness, wrapping us in shadows that feel like privacy.
"Are you certain?" he asks, his voice vibrating with those harmonics that seem to resonate inside my chest. One of his smaller tentacles hovers near my feet, close enough that I can feel the water moving around it.
"I've been dreaming of this for a month," I say, surprised at my own steadiness. "I'm beyond ready for the real thing."
His eyes, still so recognizably human despite everything else, search mine with unmistakable hunger. "The dreams were controlled. If this becomes too intense—"
"I'll tell you." I slide further down until I'm sitting on the platform's very edge, warm water lapping at my thighs. "But don't hold back on my account."
The tentacle that's been waiting makes contact, wrapping around my ankle with deliberate slowness. The texture sends a jolt through me. It’s smoother than human skin but with subtle patterns, warmer than I expected, pulsing with controlled strength that makes my mouth go dry.
I lean back on my hands, letting him explore me. His touch conveys reverence mixed with barely restrained desire.
"You won't break me," I tell him, watching his tentacle slide higher on my calf.
"I could," he admits. "You're so perfectly small compared to—"
"I'm not fragile." The words come out sharp, halting his movement. "I've hauled salvage that outweighs me, dived in currents that would drown most people. I know what I can handle."
He tilts his head, studying me with new appreciation. "You're right. Forgiveness. It's been a very long time since I've touched anyone this way. I've forgotten how to navigate desire."
His admission hits me somewhere tender. A century alone, watching humans connect without participating. Yearning for touch that never came.
"Then we'll figure it out together," I say, reaching toward him.
He brings up one of his human arms, and when our fingers intertwine, electricity races up my arm and straight to my core. His hand engulfs mine, powerful from decades in the ocean, yet his touch remains gentle, almost worshipful.
"In the dreams," I start, then hesitate as heat floods my face.
"Tell me," he urges, his voice dropping to a register that makes my thighs tense.
"You touched me everywhere at once. Like you knew exactly what my body needed, exactly how to make me feel..." Words fail as embarrassment battles desire.
"Consumed?" he suggests, eyes darkening. "Worshipped? Overwhelmed with pleasure beyond anything human?"
"Yes." The admission barely rises above a whisper.
"That wasn't fantasy. My species connects through touch in ways humans can't comprehend. I feel what brings you pleasure, sense what you need, know how your body responds before you do." He reaches up, his human hand cupping my cheek. "Let me show you."
I nod and lean into his touch. His thumb traces along my cheekbone, and even this simple contact feels more intimate than sex with previous lovers.
The tentacle encircling my ankle begins a slow, deliberate glide up my calf, the sensation making me bite my lip. Another joins it, wrapping around my other leg with equal attentiveness. I can feel his focus on me—the way he watches each tiny reaction, adjusting pressure and movement in response.
"Your wetsuit," he says, voice thick with desire, "is preventing me from touching you properly."
"Then take it off." I reach behind for my zipper.
"No, let me."
The request sends heat pooling low in my belly. I turn, offering my back, and feel his fingers work the zipper down with agonizing slowness. Each newly exposed inch of skin heightens my awareness of him—his breathing changing, the water moving differently around us, the tension building between us.
The wetsuit loosens around my shoulders. I pull my arms free, letting the thick material bunch at my waist. Warm rain meets bare skin, and I hear his sharp intake of breath.
"You're perfect," he murmurs.
Two tentacles slide up my thighs, working the wetsuit down over my hips with tantalizing slowness. I lift myself to help, and then the heavy material floats away, leaving me naked and exposed to his gaze.
"Come to me," he says. "Let me feel all of you."
