Chapter 35

chapter 35

ELLE

He wanted me—and I wanted to be wanted.

I gave up on trying to be sexy and folded my bedding together and lay down, kicking out of my underwear before I could think about the fact that I was going to fuck myself with a dildo from a kraken.

My kraken.

The one who was so furiously—and beautifully—stroking himself right outside my window.

I ran one hand between my legs and parted myself with my fingers, and used the other to pull the dick down. There was no way it wouldn't still be a little cold; the thing was solid stone, but?—

I moaned as I worked it halfway in.

I hadn't had anything inside of me in months, and there was nothing quite like when you first hit the right place.

I'd forgotten how good it was.

"Good," Cepharius purred inside my head. "Oh, Elle, your breeding hole is perfect."

I tried not to chuckle on our 'qa. "I don't know how I feel about you calling it that."

"What does your kind call it?"

I thought of all the other words other men had ever called my vagina—and none of them were really any good either.

"Breeding hole's okay, I think. It just sounds kind of dirty. But I like it."

"So dirt is good, in this case?" he asked, sounding lightly amused, and I pretended to glare out the window at him.

"Keep stroking, mister."

"Anything you desire," he promised, and I felt it echo inside my mind.

He really did mean it when he said that. It wasn't just the trite thing some human man would say to get into my pants—it was his truth, laid bare to me, and it might have scared me, if I weren't so horny.

"I feel you, as well, Elle—take the rest of your clothing off."

I reached for my shirt, and then paused.

"I want to see all your perfection."

I . . . didn't feel very perfect.

But even before, when I had breasts, I never had. There was always something, you know? Your skin, or your ass, or your hair—even before the double, I could've probably only counted the times I'd felt "perfect" before on one hand—and I realized that was sad.

If I was perfect now, I'd definitely been perfect then—just not smart enough to know it.

"Elle?" Ceph asked me with concern, as my attention wavered. "You do not have to, if you don't want to. But I promise you, I am ready."

I took the stone out of my pussy and rocked up to my knees in front of the window. "No, I know," I said, and shucked my top off.

Rows of suckers appeared on the glass's other side immediately. "How I wish that I could touch you," Ceph thought at me, with a longing that took my breath away.

"Don't use your acid on the glass," I teased, but I put my hands against it on my side. I could feel his surging feelings—the closer we got, the easier he was to understand.

And he loved me.

I had no idea why...but it was simple and pure, and if I kept staying right here, practically bathing in it, I was going to wind up loving him back.

It might already be too late.

I sat back on my heels. "I'm not going to want to go, you know."

"I already do not want you to leave." His suckers were replaced by his hands, although the rest of him stopped glowing.

"I don't want to hurt anymore, Ceph. And feeling things for you?—"

"I know." His anguish slid across our connection, all the fears he'd been holding in for so long. "I do not know if I can survive losing a mate a second time."

I wiped away unshed tears with the back of a hand, sorting through his emotions and feelings like he sorted through mine. "Then why aren't you scared of trying? When you know better?"

"Oh, because, little pearl," he began, and I felt his heart thrill. "I know that if I found you and you found me and there were some true way for us to be together, a chance at that happiness is worth all the pain in your air, or in my sea. Because I know what it was like to have it once before—I am willing to risk it all, to have it once again. And if it doesn't happen, then so be it, but at least I know I tried."

I reached higher on the glass, to where I hoped his cheek was close outside of it.

I'd never felt like this in my entire life before—and I knew I never would again.

It was time to be brave.

And at least this time, when I got my heart broken, it would be out of love, not sorrow.

I reached back to the sheets behind me and picked up another of his carvings, planting it between my calves, so that I could lower myself on top of it. I felt its cold stone part me and I moaned.