Page 141 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
My insides wept with pain at the sight of that monster dick, at the thought of putting it anywhere near my sensitive areas.
Genius idea, Pippi. Real Einstein move. He’s forty feet long. What did you expect would happen?
I hadn’t thought this far ahead.
I’d just wanted to make him happy.
And when his uncertainty pumped into my stomach—because he’d sensed me hesitate and likely knew where my thoughts had gone—I blew out a breath and steeled myself.
“It’s alright,” I murmured, stroking the side of his stomach—not yet brave enough to put my hands near that behemoth organ.
He sighed. Tightly. But his worry was still jumbling around in a big tumbleweed.
I hated feeling that.
Hated that I was wavering instead of reassuring him.
Hated that he’d put himself in such a vulnerable position, giving me his trust, and I was destroying it.
So I went all in, smoothing my hand along that throbbing pink root.
But another issue presented itself.
Alistair’s cock tookrock hardto a whole other level. The organ had no give in it. None. Not at the root, at least. It was as solid as a rod of steel. I’d break my fingers trying to knead it.
But when I shimmied myself up further, where the tip thinned into a loose curl, the velvety flesh became malleable.
So I focused there, massaging my fingers into the hot, quavering flesh, drinking in the throaty sigh that escaped him.
He twitched. Stiffened. And the tip of his cock moved, bending itself backward, and coiling loosely around my arm.
Oh gosh…
It wasflexible?
Alistair groaned.
White-hot arousal punched itself through me. My vision hazed as my body locked in a tight convulsion, so very similar to the one that’d gripped me when I orgasmed. And I almost came again—fromAlistair. From the delight and desire andwantthat burned through him.
The tip of his cock tightened its hold on my arm. A grip that should’ve been painful. But it wasexhilarating.
And, suddenly, my body was moving. Drunkenly. Knowing what it wanted, even if my pleasure-soaked brain was a little behind the eight ball.
I lifted my leg over the center of the undulating organ and straddled it, savoring the way its girth stretched and spread my thighs, even as my hips gave a feeble creak of protest.
He said he dreamed of being ridden, right?
Alistair’s breathing froze. “Pippi?”
“This is as close as I can get to your dream,” I said as I dragged myself up and down along the length of his cock—or, well, the length I couldreach.
And Alistair’s whimpered breaths said my instincts were spot on.
“Please don’t stop.” He groaned as the tip unfurled from my arm, clutched in a hard spasm.
“I won’t.”
Up and down, I went, squeezing my arms and legs around him. Rubbing my hands into that silky, silky flesh. Drinking in the sounds he made—all the moans, and growls, and mewls.
