Page 43 of The Pirate Queen of Ruin
I reach into my panties and tears come to my eyes. No, no, this is too much. Two tentacles wrap around my fingers as I feel my wet pussy.
“Keep listening,”Love commands.
My stance shifts, my forehead resting on the doorjam and I try to breathe through what’s happening. I keep my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. The suckers kiss my fingers before searching out their real target. One wiggles between my ass until there is a sucker right on my hole and the other attaches to my clit with such accuracy I bite my tongue to hold in my scream of pleasure.
This reaches a whole new level of fucked up, but that doesn’t stop my hips from jerking forward. My pussy feels a slight stretch, but there’s no movement from the tentacles. They are holding me open like I’m supposed to be filled by something. I can’t open my eyes, I can’t. If I do, I am going to cum right here in this fucking hallway.
“I want her in the baths. I want my sisters to turn her into a mess and refuse to let her finish.” She pauses, and I can practically hear Love demanding that she spell out her fantasy. They want me to know every detail. Orthia groans, “Because I want her to beg for my mouth, for my tentacles.”
Holy. Shit.
The suckers on my skin both bite down in unison and I cum so hard the pink shards of light are back. I hear Orthia’s gasping sigh, the bitten-off ‘fuck’, and my knees threaten to hit the deck so hard. It’s not until I hear a boot smack down on the floor that I think I should fucking run.
My heart jumps in my throat and I dart down the hallway. The tentacles slither back inside me so quickly, that if it weren’t for the slick mess around my ass I would call it a hallucination. My hand is on the doorknob to my room when I hear the creak of Orthia’s opening.
“Good, you’re ready to go.” She sounds as gruff and stern as normal. Not at all like she just came while thinking about me.
I pretend like I am closing my door and try to smile at her. This is not the time to lose my poker face. I didn’t spend my whole life learning how to act like nothing was wrong for me to lose it because I got to hear my soulmate cum all over her personal tentacles.
“So where are we going?” I ask.
“This looks nice,” Orthia says instead, her eyes lazily trailing over my outfit. “Sensible shoes.”
“Are we going on a walk?” I leave out the dock part, reminding myself before it’s too late that we are running an errand.
“No, we are going to get your old things.”
Now my smile isn’t fake.
Orthia buys me another metro ticket, and we take the train up to the more central part of Harbour Crest, where the buildings are new and tall and filled with luxury. It’s crowded and people stare. I’m not sure if it’s because of me or us. Do people recognise me from social media or from my explosive nightmare scandal? Are they staring because my small butch soulmate has her arm wrapped around me like an angry chihuahua.
“So where are we going exactly?”
“Did you not know? You just decided we’d go somewhere? What if we had to go back to Chicago?” I ask. I am astounded at this lack of a plan.
“I figured you’d have something within the city limits.” She shrugs. “Again, this is something I discuss with the new recruits early on.”
“Huh? And who’s fault is that?”
Orthia rolls her eyes at me. “Mine, but I am trying to fix that. So where are we going?”
“I shared an apartment with my ex-fiancé. Assuming he hasn’t thrown my stuff into the street yet, it’s all there.”
The gears in Orthia’s mind start to turn and she doesn’t say anything for the rest of the train ride. Her arm tightens around me though, pressing the sides of our bodies completely together.
This late at night, the receptionist is in the back office rather than manning the desk. It’s too late for regular residents and too early for partygoers to be returning. We slip in easily. There was a moment when I thought my thumbprint wouldn’t work on the exterior door. That Miles will have erased me for good, but the lock clicks and the door softly buzzes while we enter.
Everything goes smoothly. Even the six-digit code to enter our flat is the same. Miles is so sure and unbothered that I’m dead and nobody will come looking for me. He hasn’t changed a thing. My jaw clenches as I twist the knob. He better be in.
The apartment is dark, with not a single light on. Miles isn’t here. It makes more sense that he isn’t. He is a bachelor again and can happily go back to his partying ways now that he’s got my money.
A low whistle sounds behind me when I raise the lights fifty percent. This place is minimalist and decorated in shades of grey. Everything is shining metal or granite or leather. It’s as uncomfortable as can be. I’m not sure how I lived here for six months without a touch of my own design sense.
“Make yourself at home. I can pack my stuff.”
“Not,” Orthia falls onto the couch and puts her dirty boots up, “a problem.”
Chapter fifteen
