Page 5 of Hook, Line, and Tentacle

A soft whimper catches in my throat. I don’t answer in words, but my body betrays me anyway.A soft touch brushes low, circling my thigh, just under the curve of my ass, and I shiver.

“Tell me.” He’s still close enough that I feel his lips move against my skin. “I want to know what you crave.”

I press my cheek into his shoulder, breathing him in. When I don’t answer straight away, he withdraws until only two tentacles bracket my hips, holding me exactly where he wants me.

I whimper at the loss of contact.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie. Maybe the worst I’ve ever told. He clocks it immediately.

“You do.” A tentacle winds lazily up the curve of my back, sliding through the gap between my shoulder blades to rest at the nape of my neck. “You came down here for something.”

“A flashlight?” Weak argument, but it’s all I’ve got.

His laugh fans warm across my neck as he tucks his head down beside mine. “Try again.”

A knee nudges between my legs, kicking my feet apart lightly. My body buzzes. The tentacle still at my waist tightens, tugging me closer still.

“You’re aching, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “I can scent it all over you. So needy. So wet.”

“It’s raining,” I breathe.

He noses along my jaw. “Not in here.”

My breath stutters. “Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.” His chuckle is low and smug.

Then his touch— all of it—resumes its slow, seeking perusal. One of the appendages coasts up my ribs, careful and smooth and under my clothes this time. I shiver as it pauses just beneath the swell of my breast, right where it stopped before—then he waits.

I arch, chest and hips pressing into him.

“That’s better,” he praises. “Let me make you feel good, Neviah. I promise I will. I’ll make you forget everything but this.”

The tentacle curls around the bottom of my breast and lifts. Another joins it, a slick line tracing upward to circle my nipple. It tightens under the attention, pulling a gasp from me.

“You’re so soft here.” His voice lowers, roughened with want. “So responsive. I could spend hours just teasing you like this.”

I roll my hips into the space between us, desperate for friction, but he’s moved backward slightly. “You’re not spending hours.”

“I could.”His tentacles stroke over my nipples again, slow and rhythmic. Smooth, wet pressure without suction, just heat and drag. My legs tremble. “I bet I could make you come just playing with these. They’re very pretty. Do you like me touching them?”

“Please,” I whisper. It doesn’t exactly answer his question, but I think it gets the point across, more or less.

He hums low in approval. “Please what?”

“More.” The word whips out of me, quick and desperate. “I need more.”

The tentacle that had been teasing the line of my ass slips between my thighs and under my sleep shorts to trace the hem of my underwear. My breath catches on a moan.

“I can feel how wet you are.” His mouth brushes my ear, and I lift my chin from his shoulder to chase the contact. “I haven’t even fucked you yet. I’ve barely touched you. Are you really that needy?”

I feel like my head is underwater. My voice is barely audible when I ask, “Can I touch you?”

He stills. Not all of him—the tentacles still move of their own accord, stroking, teasing—but his body freezes. He blinks down at me, like the question knocked something loose inside him.“You want to?”

I nod, leaning in to press a slow kiss to his throat. I feel the hitch of his breath when I do. “Yes. Please. If you want.”

A low, pleasured sound rolls out of his chest, vibrating into mine. “Yes. I want.”

His body tenses when I run my hands over him—over his ribs, his chest, the domes of his shoulders. He’s huge. Thick all over. His skin is still slick, impossibly warm, and the muscles beneath twitch with every glide of my fingers.

The tentacle at my waist tightens, not enough to bruise, but enough to remind me he could hold me still with just that one.

Others still absently stroke the backs of my thighs, teasing over the curve of my ass.

But the one between my legs is the only one I can concentrate on.

It drags slow, lazy circles against my clit through the fabric of my underwear, barely giving any pressure at all, just presence.

I palm his chest, then drag one hand down over the rise of his stomach—broad and solid, not flat but warm and soft in a way that makes my thighs press together, trapping the tentacle teasing there.

He’s the perfect balance of strength and comfort, a life lived, and it makes something hungry uncoil inside me.

His expression flickers as I go lower. He lets me trace the edge of his jeans, fingers just slipping beneath the waistband. A shudder runs through him. His jaw flexes.

“You should be careful,” he murmurs, voice rougher now.

I look up at him, breath shallow. “Why?”

“I don’t want to lose control.”

My thighs clench again around the teasing pressure between them, and I press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “What would happen if you did?”

He exhales sharply, like the question stings. “I don’t know,” he grits out. “I’ve never lost it. I don’t plan to now.”

Something is pulling back. The tentacles around me tremble, twitching like they’re caught between instinct and retreat. One slithers away from my thigh, another loosening from my hip. Cal’s whole body is taut, like he’s holding himself together with sheer will.

I cup his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “Okay. I’m sorry. It’s alright. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t move, just watches me with pupils blown wide, eyes black in a sea of darker black. His breath is ragged.

I keep my voice low. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

Something shifts in his expression. His hand lifts slowly, cupping the back of my head so his fingers thread into my hair. I think he doesn’t know if he’s holding me in place or anchoring himself.

The first press of Cal’s lips is soft. Almost shy . Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my mouth exactly as it is now, before we go further. I fucking hope we’ll go further.

I tilt my head, and the air around us pulls tight. The kiss deepens fast, turning hungry as his mouth opens against mine. His tongue licks into me like he’s been dying for it, and a low, choked groan leaves his throat. It’s such a deep sound it feels tectonic.

The teasing tentacle in my underwear finally slides under the hem, slick and careful, and finds the seam of my pussy, gliding up and down. I gasp as it glances my clit, curling close but never quite giving me what I need.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“I don’t want you to stop.” My voice shakes, but not with fear.

The tentacle begins to stroke me in earnest—still barely pressure, just rhythm, building and teasing. I rock against it, chasing every smooth glide over the swollen, wet line of my slit.

He groans again, like this is torturing him . “I should stop. I have to stop.”

“You can stop if you want, but I don’t want you to.” I tug at his bottom lip with my teeth, and he grunts. “That would upset me. You seem very invested in not upsetting me.”

He shudders, and I can feel his fight. His breath breaks ragged against my lips. The tentacle between my thighs pulses.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice carries a warning, but his touch doesn’t stop. Another slow glide over my clit, firmer this time, coaxing a whimper from my throat. “You feel how wet you are for me? How easy you open up?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “Please—don’t stop.”

His grip tightens at the back of my head, fingertips digging into my scalp. It’s not harsh, but it’s enough to hold me still, like he needs to be sure I’m anchored.

“You’re soaked. Dripping for me. You’d let me open you up, wouldn’t you? Let me fill you and hold you until you come apart in my arms. Is that what you want, Neviah?”

My body jolts. I don’t answer the question verbally, but I’m not convinced I need to. I’m grinding down against the tentacle now, chasing every slick drag of it against my clit.

Cal hisses through his teeth. “Fuck, I can feel you. Every little flutter, and I’m not even inside you yet. You’re close already, aren’t you? You’re going to come just from this, from one of my tentacles teasing this pretty pussy.”

I nod. I can’t form words. They’re all gone. My talking days are over.

“You want more?” His voice is guttural, something almost atavistic in it. “You want to be stretched and filled and made mine?”

“Yes—yes, please—”

“Such a good girl. Now show me.” The tentacle around my waist drags me against him, lifting my body to rock me over his erection. All the while, the tentacle in my panties continues driving me closer to that sweet edge. “Show me just how much you want to be mine.”

He sucks a kiss into my neck, and everything goes hot and sharp.

My spine arches. My legs quake. My mouth falls open, but no sound comes out at first—just the rush of breath and pressure and overwhelming release as I come hard, clutching at him, grinding down against the thick, slick pressure he gives me.

He catches me when my knees buckle. One tentacle stays between my legs, still stroking gently, coaxing aftershocks from me while I tremble in his hold.

Cal presses his face into my throat like he’s trying to breathe me in, his chest shuddering. His tongue darts out over the mark he left, soothing the sting, until I bring his lips to mine, soft and searching.

He leans into the kiss, hand still cradling the back of my head, and I melt against him.

Then he freezes.Something in him goes rigid and cold. I feel it like a bucket of ice water over my head.He jerks back a half step, breaking the kiss, and every part of him retreats in a sharp snap like he’s been burned. I blink, stumbling with the loss of contact as I try to stay upright.

“Did I—” My breath snags when I look at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

His face doesn’t move, but something shatters behind his eyes.

“Don’t come back here.” His voice is as flat as his expression.

“Cal—”

He steps into my space, then past me, placing one large hand on my back to steer me firmly forward until I’m out of his apartment, into the hall, and standing at the stairwell doorway back up to the attic.

“I mean it,” he says. “Stay away.”

I spin to face him. I can still feel my pulse all over my body, but mostly between my legs. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to shut me out just because you’re scared.”

He arches a brow. “Aren’t you?”

“Of you?” I laugh, breathless. “No. And you know I’m not staying away after that.”

His eyes narrow. “Why not?”

He asks like it genuinely confuses him. It’s frankly hilarious, him wondering at all, considering he just gave me the best orgasm of my life.

“You threatened me with a good time.”I smile, mock-sweet.“You can’t just take it back.”

He exhales through his nose. “Consent can be withdrawn at any time.”

I match his stare. “Yes. It can. Would you like to withdraw your consent, or would you like to stop lying to yourself?”

Cal’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t answer. I take the first step backward up the stairs before turning away from him, skin still thrumming with the heat of him.

“I hope you know what you’re in for,” I call over my shoulder, where I can tell he’s not moved an inch because I feel the molasses-slow crawl of his gaze all over me. “Your little trespasser is a brat.”