6. Eaten Alive
Eaten Alive
Knobby, webbed fingers pressed into the bones of her hips. If Marlowe wasn’t pinned down like a beetle in a shadow box, she would have shuddered.
God knew what she’d agreed to. Being eaten, consumed by the teeth lurking inside Pike’s cunt? Being fucked?
Oh, she was so fucked. A knot of nerves and tension pulsed in Marlowe’s cunt. Without the slick press of her thighs, there was no relief.
Pike’s tail scraped across her bare legs, fleshy hands drifting across Marlowe’s thighs, and her eyes slipped shut as the ache in her gut worsened.
Right now she didn’t care what Pike would do with her after, as long as she’d fix the horrible, desperate pull that had driven Marlowe here in the first place.
Even though Marlowe’s body was stagnant, her delirious state had cleared. Fuck, she needed Pike to touch her.
Marlowe had almost managed to coax a moan from the thick heaviness lodged in her throat when Pike’s hands wrapped around her ankles.
Panic squirmed into her chest.
She tried forcing her fingers to move, willing them to curl, to grab onto something. Her sunken knife handle scraped against the back of her useless hand. Muck seeped into her hair and a leech wriggled against the shell of her ear.
Pike dragged her into the water.
Head locked in place, gaze darting wildly at the black pines stabbing toward the stars, Marlowe tried to form words around the stones pinning her tongue to the back of her throat.
A rasping sound wheezed from her lips.
Lake water soaked her shorts and bit into her ass. Algae filtered between her still fingers and a crayfish snipped at her, pinching skin.
It was all Marlowe could do to drag in a labored, weak breath before her head went under.
Frogs chirring in the distance dulled to a low hum. They grew louder, pulsing through her body in waves. The hold on her ankles faded.
Marlowe had to swim. She had to move, had to do something, but her bones were lead-heavy. Fleshy hands snatched at her wrists and Marlowe could have screamed.
Pike yanked her, water rushing around her and debris hungrily knocking against her body. A stick twisted against her shorts pocket and dragged the soaked cotton to her knees before it freed her.
Marlowe resurfaced with a gasp, lungs starved even though it’d been seconds. Cold water soaked her and plastered her shirt to her chest, and she had the sudden, shameful, useless urge to cover her bare thighs and the thatch of soaked dark hair.
Vulnerable.
The only word fitting.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Pike circled. A flash of red-edged fins. A slide of slimy flesh against her limp fingers in the water, hanging off the algae mat.
Webbing crept up Marlowe’s legs and a gust of hot, fish-gut breath brushed heavy against her dripping cunt.
A shrieking whistle pierced the air.
Pike stilled.
Marlowe caught a glimpse of their golden eyes, staring, head half-cocked. Pike’s hands grazed her knees and rested there.
Marlowe’s tongue pressed against her teeth. The effort of the sharp whistle made her jaw ache.
But Pike had stopped.
She thought Pike’s eyes narrowed. She trilled, low, questioning, and moved closer with a smooth undulation of her heavy tail.
If Pike wanted to kill her—god, if she wanted to eat her—she wouldn’t be playing with her like this. Viciously curious, intent on Marlowe like a creature on the hunt, but to what end? More teeth? A ritual, just to drag her down after she took what she wanted from Marlowe?
Marlowe silently laughed at the absurdity.
What she wanted. As if she hadn’t worked herself raw on her bathroom floor and almost came at the taste of Pike.
What Pike wanted was what Marlowe wanted.
Venom still deadened her movements, and Marlowe ached to spread her soaked cunt for it, to hook a leg over its back and draw it closer.
Pike was dangerously close to stealing all of Marlowe’s common sense.
Once again, Marlowe made the soft, guttural trilling noise. A flimsy agreement.
Pike took it.
Trust was too serious a word for this. Truce, maybe, sealed with a whistle and a promise—at least for now—Marlowe wasn’t going to die.
Webbed hands skimmed up Marlowe’s legs, pressing her open, cunt clenching at the cool air whispering across slick, dripping flesh.
Her pulse thumped in her throat and her heartbeat marked each warm patch of skin where Pike touched her.
At the first hesitant press of her tongue, Marlowe’s stomach drew taut, cunt spasming around nothing. Her adrenaline-quickened pulse thrummed in her veins as Pike’s tongue rounded, flicking over her swollen flesh and prodding at her cunt.
Pike made a noise and algae rippled under Marlowe as if they were agitating the water around themself. Hot breath warmed Marlowe’s belly and Pike’s tongue stroked into her, a shallow, terribly fake, attempt. They could do better, and Marlowe knew it.
Fuck her and her venom. Marlowe wanted to roll her hips, riding her tongue until she went sore for days, and yet she could do nothing but build a frustrated sound in the back of her throat.
Pike’s tongue left her, and she gave a soft snarl, hands digging into Marlowe’s thick thighs and spreading her.
Marlowe’s hip cracked. She hissed, and Pike eased, glancing up with those damned gold eyes, the picture of monstrous innocence. Her fingers tightened, bruising. Another message: Pike was in charge. If Marlowe could speak, she’d tell her to fuck off. She settled for a sharp exhale through her teeth.
Pike’s head ducked with a snarl, tongue burrowing into her and fucking her open with deliberate, long strokes.
Every muscle drew up tight in Marlowe’s body, wanting to move with the deep pressure stretching and filling her cunt to the point she hardly cared if Pike pinned her in place with her teeth, as long as she didn’t stop. She was used to the pain. She enjoyed the pain.
Marlowe could have screamed in frustration when Pike drew back, even as the shallow angle pressed against her and made spots flicker in Marlowe’s vision. Her toes curled beneath her, the venom working its way out of her system with each heavy rush.
Lake water froze Marlowe from below, cold against the hot, slick warmth filling her. She didn’t care anymore, as long as Pike’s mouth was on her, webbed hands wrapped around her thighs, because none of it hurt.
She might have been moaning, talking nonsense, but she didn’t care. Pike’s tongue doubled over on itself, pulsing, filling her, fucking her so thoroughly Marlowe’s mind blanked and narrowed to the singular pleasure of being consumed.
When Pike’s hot breath skittered over Marlowe’s hips and her thick tongue writhed, pushing, coaxing, fucking her open, and sharp teeth grazed her clit, colors burst behind her eyelids and the strings of her muscles went taut, shaking.