Page 11 of Seducing Scylla (Mated Myths #1)

Morgan

A fter traveling for what feels like all day, we come to a small alcove in the tunnel.

It’s fitted out with some furs, a small fire pit, and a shelf of dried meats and fruits.

I guess it’s some kind of resting place to stop in on long journeys.

Scylla sets me down on the furs and I assume we’re staying here tonight.

My desire to bathe will have to wait, but I hope it’s not too much further tomorrow.

Having to make this trip every time I want to wash will be annoying.

I shake my head. I’m thinking as if I’ll be making the trip from Scylla’s cave again.

As if I’ll be staying there. I don’t know where that thought came from.

No, I’ll be getting out of here as soon as I can.

Scylla strikes a fire, the smoke filtering up through a small hole in the ceiling of the cave where I can see the darkened sky and a few twinkling stars, confirming we have, in fact, traveled all day.

She hands me some dried fish and mango, which I cautiously nibble on, too hungry to be picky now.

Surprisingly, the fish isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

A little on the salty side, but if I alternate bites between it and the mango, the sweetness of the dried fruit actually makes it rather tasty.

I finish my meal, while Scylla quietly works through her fish, taking a bite and staring into the fire.

Even though we can’t talk to each other, our silence is companionable, and a calm washes over me.

Despite the circumstances, I don’t mind being here in this cave with Scylla.

I can almost pretend it’s an adventure with a new friend; a Contiki tour to a mystical island filled with strange creatures.

I snort, causing Scylla to look at me with an eyebrow raised.

I shake my head, the twinkle of a smile in my eyes.

Scylla gestures to me and the bed with a wave of a hand and I scooch back, not really sure where this is going.

Her incredibly tall frame leans over me, her tentacles taking up most of the spare room across the tiny cave floor.

She sits at the base of the furs, and with a tenderness that catches me by surprise, cradles my injured foot in her hands, inspecting the damage the jagged rock inflicted with glittering black eyes .

Her gentle touch has tingles running up my legs to the sensitive spot between my legs, and I wriggle in the furs uncomfortably.

Her touch turns firm, holding me in place before applying pressure and massaging the aches from my feet.

I groan, eyes closing at the heavenly sensation, and her fingers pause around my non-injured foot before resuming, their journey kneading north toward my bare calves.

A guttural sound unwillingly escapes my throat, the heat between my thighs building with every firm touch of her silken skin.

Eyes closed, I clench my knees together, mentally begging her to stop lest I come right here and now, but to also move higher and higher to take care of this ache that has overcome me.

I let out a whimper, brows tense. So close.

Scylla’s hands leave my heated skin. My eyes pop open and I realize I’m panting.

Scylla’s nostrils flare, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, and I track the movement before quickly averting my eyes.

Catching my breath, I can think a little clearer now that her hands are no longer on me. We eye each other warily, and I’m suddenly overcome with embarrassment, heat flooding my cheeks. I run my hand over my face. I can’t believe that happened .

I clear my throat. “Uh, thank you.”

I know she can’t understand me, but I feel like I have to say something to interrupt the awkwardness I’m feeling.

I tuck my legs under one of the furs and lay down.

Scylla stares at me a while longer before shifting and sprawling out across the floor.

I wish I knew what she was thinking. I swallow a lump in my throat.

My baser instincts are yelling at me to ask her if she’d like to share the furs, but I don’t trust myself to be so close to her.

The tension in my core is still wound tight without the release I crave.

I turn my back to her, tugging the furs up over my shoulders, praying for sleep to take me.

The only clue to the passing of time is the rate at which the fire dwindles, low flickering embers cast the cave in shadows.

I toss and turn, chasing sleep that won’t come, my body wound tight with unreleased tension.

Scylla hasn’t moved an inch or made a sound and I’m sure she’s asleep.

Quietly, I ease my dress up around my waist beneath the furs, cautious not to wake Scylla.

This fire inside me has barely abated and I’m desperate to come.

I wouldn’t do this on a normal occasion, but this whole situation isn’t normal. My skin itches to be touched .

The risk of waking Scylla has me nervous, my eyes flicking to her still form.

I lick my lips, a finger slowly tracing the tight bundle of nerves through the thin cotton of my panties.

Circling ever so slowly, I close my eyes and breathe a soft sigh.

I tremble and pick up the pace, applying more pressure as I play my body like a violin.

I think of Scylla’s firm touch, the velvety smoothness of her skin, the way her tentacles wrap around me when she holds me tightly against her, her scent, and how it reminds me of sunny days at the beach.

I buck beneath my fingers, a soft cry on my lips, shocked at coming so quickly.

I lay in the furs, my breathing ragged. I want more.

I need more. My release only takes the edge off the ache inside me.

I huff and roll onto my side, my body still wound up and frustrated.

Black eyes, glimmering with flecks of orange from dying embers, blink back at me from the dark, where Scylla lays.

My face burns and I groan inwardly. This is so embarrassing.