17. August 2nd
Angie
Iwish I could say we ran through the lobby like a pair of wanton lovers, like nothing could distract us, but unfortunately this entire town is filled with ruggers Raf and I have known for years. Exchanging pleasantries as fast as possible was its own game. Dodging around corners and shouting back to old friends that we’ll see them at the bar later—yeah right. This man won’t be able to walk, let alone speak, when I’m done with him.
Even the goddamn elevator was crowded—the sexiest place to makeout in all romance books and media, and we’re stuck with three other people all headed to the fourth floor with us. And could it be any slower? Fuck. I have no idea what these Boston accent buffoons are saying in front of us, because the only sense I have is feeling the radiating heat from Rafael’s chest against my back. He’s leaning against the wall of the elevator and I’m only inches away. Thankfully, these other men don’t know us, and Raf must pick up on the fact that they’re not paying attention. A single soft fingertip runs up the back of my bare thigh and my breath hitches. It’s searching under the hem of my rain-soaked maternity shorts and finds the natural crease of my ass. My entire body lights up like a live wire and I’m hyper-alert to every miniscule sensation. His finger teases along the curve, and when he gets closer to my center, he pushes that finger into my panties and gently strokes me. He’s barely grazing my seam, but it’s the secret naughtiness that’s edging me further into this delicious moment.
If these doors don’t open in the next ten seconds, I’m mounting him right here in front of these strangers.
Trying exhibitionism must not be in the cards tonight because the chrome elevator doors part and the Boston ruggers file out. They head in the opposite direction we do, and when we notice no one else occupies our hall, he guides me with his hands tight on my hips. When we’re mere feet away from our door, I pull out the key card from my back pocket as he crowds me against the door—his erection noticeable already.
1“Hurry,” he says on a ragged breath and presses his hips into my backside. The green light signals, and with one push we’re inside, quickly shutting the door behind us. In a split second I force myself on him, pressing him into the wall as our mouths crash into each other. Our wet clothes grow warmer against one another as we grind fruitlessly. His hands are in my hair, his tongue down my throat, and his knee between my legs.
Ravenous—we’re completely, mindlessly, ravenous for each other.
My fingers dig into the double-layer waistbands of his small black rugby shorts and compression shorts and I don’t dare waste any more time. “Get these fucking shorts off, you slut,” I demand.
“A slut?” He chuckles, but it’s erased when he sees I’m serious and his responding tone switches to obedience. “Yes, ma’am.”
He’s already taken his socks and cleats off before getting in the car, so when he kicks his sandals off, I squat down and peel the wet shorts off him completely. His large, proud cock points directly at my face, but I’m too entranced by his legs—covered in mud, grass, scratches, and bruises. Unable to stop myself, my hands are drawn to slowly skate over them—his coarse hair adding friction to my devotion.
“If you let me shower, I can—”
“No,” I interrupt, still fixated on his powerful legs, the defined muscles, the sinew between it all. “I want you like this. Dirty. Ragged.”
He huffs a disbelieving breath. “Are you sure?” My domineering stare tells him he needs to finish that question properly. “Are you sure, Ma’am? I smell awful.”
When I stand up, taking my time to palm his impressive thighs and ass, I sink my hands under his tight jersey and force him to take it off all the way. “That’s kind of the point, Raf,” I smile and throw his dark teal jersey on the bathroom floor next to his shorts a few feet away. “I want you like this,” I say, then bite my lip, stroking my hands over his abs and chest. It must be the hormones and the way his chest rises and falls that puts me in a trance, because I can’t filter my words. I dig my nails into his thick pecs. “You were so hot out there today. I love watching you tackle other men into the ground. You’re all so rough with each other. It makes me feral.”
“Oh yeah?” he drawls, causing me to finally look into his eyes. He moves to lift my shirt, while pushing me toward the two beds. “Tell me more.”
Oh, he thinks he’s leading this? Fuck that noise.
“Shirt stays on,” I bite out, causing him to freeze with only a foot until we’re on the bed. My mind replays what his BDSM chart said, and I sift through what I want to use. Reluctantly taking my hands off him, I take the opportunity to tease my aching breasts over my shirt. “If you’re a good boy and make me come, I might let you see them.”
“What would I have to do to touch them, Ma’am?”
“Don’t get greedy. You’re mine to use,” I smile, not only at my words but the fucking power surge coursing through my body. I didn’t know I had this in me. Sure, I’ve read about femdoms and listened to endless erotic audios that got me off, but I didn’t know I could actually be this assertive.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he pouts. My god, he pouts. I’ve never seen him pout. It’s fucking adorable and sexy, and I want to rub my pussy all over that mouth and claim that pout as my own.
Pushing off my denim shorts with a gigantic maternity waistband that stretches clear up to my ribcage, I don’t bother feeling embarrassed. He watches me as I kick them to the side along with my panties and sit down on the edge of the bed, the cool white duvet giving way softly under my ass.
“Kneel, slut.” Fuck, this submissive name I’ve given him is sending chills across my body just saying it. He must like it because the excitement in his eyes is undeniable as he sinks to the carpeted floor, and I spread my legs before him. Rafael tries to lean in, but I place two fingers to my seam, dragging my arousal around, playing idly in my short curls, teasing us both. With my other hand planted behind to prop myself up, my head drops back, and I close my eyes, letting my fingers work their magic.
This isn’t what I really want, what I really need, but I love making him wait like this. His little whimpers cut through the silence like a knife. “Please, Ma’am? Please, can I touch you? I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”
“I don’t know,” I taunt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Maybe the stakes are too high now.”
“No, Ma’am. Please—please let me take care of you.”
Rocking my head back down to look at his pained expression, my teasing loses all merit. “You sound so pretty when you beg. Eat.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
My stomach flips when he dives in with a grunt of satisfaction, his massive hands spreading me wide. “That’s it,” I pant as he licks long, languid stripes through my core, already causing me to cant my hips into him. “Yes.” His disheveled wet hair begs for me to grab it, and when I do, he lets out a prideful little grunt. “You like it when I dominate you?” He nods eagerly, but he doesn’t dare take his mouth from the center of my thighs. “Me too,” I smile.
The ache that’s been building inside me all day as I watched his muscular body slam against others begins to relax; the ache transforms to pleasure at the touch of his wet tongue against my clit. The drag of his taste buds against my soft flesh, so tender then so taut. His little appreciative sounds turn up to moans mixed with a growl or two that send my stomach tightening—the sensation traveling north until it’s lodged as heat in my chest.
I’ve never experienced such noisy oral. Noisy in the best way—in the most arousing way. I’ve listened to erotic audio, hoping one day I might be able to have that kind of experience with a partner who can make me feel like eating me out is a luxury, not a chore, not a necessary step on the way to penetrative sex. But like they want to be here. They want to pleasure me because it brings them pleasure.
And then it hits me all over again: here kneels my best friend, the man I trust more than any other, giving me the best, the most eager head I’ve ever known—and he looks like he’s having the time of his life. He just played a full eighty minutes of rugby; he should be bone-tired and needing some aspirin, a beer, and medical attention honestly. But here he is, eating me like I’m the only thing that could help him recover from such ferocious exertion.
When Rafael starts incorporating his teeth along with suction, I’m hurtling toward the finish line sooner than expected. I read somewhere that this heightened sensitivity has something to do with the increase in blood flow in my body now that I’m pregnant—it’s causing me to be more sensitive down there. But I won”t stop him, and I don’t warn him. I lean into the free fall from atop my mountain high and allow him to collect his reward.
“Yes, Raf! Yes, that’s a good boy. Don’t stop,” I encourage, already hungry for another release. I desperately want to tell him to use his fingers, but I know they’re filthy, and even though I crave him that way, those will not be entering my body until they’re clean. What he does, however, is place both thumbs on either side of my opening, just outside the pillowy tissue of my sex, and applies pressure while massaging it.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, tilting my head down to gaze hungrily at his beautiful naked kneeling form and stroking my fingers through his damp wavy hair. “That feels amazing. Keep doing that. Give me another one. And apologize for turning me on so badly today.”
His words are muffled through my tender pussy, but he repeats them again and again as he continues to devour me. I can’t see his cock from this angle above him, but I’d wager anything it’s hard as a rock right now.
“Use one hand to touch yourself,” I command. “Be a good boy and stroke that big, heavy cock for me. But don’t you dare come.” His right hand wastes no time flying down below my line of sight, and when his shoulders relax and his moan reverberates through my cunt, I know he’s begun stroking. “That feel good, baby?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to say that. Baby is too personal a nickname for us. For me. Sure, what we’re doing right now is arguably one of the most personal things you can do with someone.
His eyes catch mine with every ounce of thrill showcased like priceless displays in a gallery. “Yes, Ma’am,” he smiles, those deep glorious dimples making me forget everything I’ve ever thought up to now. Nose nuzzling against my clit, he closes his eyes and sighs. “Yes, I can be your baby. Please.”
Shit. This vulnerable submission from him is unsteadily potent and heady. Power rockets through my being at his words and touch, his expression.
I want him to be my baby too.
We have rules and a timeframe and boundaries for a reason—but what was that reason again? Right. So that when this is all over, I can step away without hesitation or heartbreak.
But I’ve always been in love with him, haven’t I? It’s going to hurt regardless. I’m hoping it won’t hurt any more than the constant underlying pain I’ve put myself through loving him all these years. Ignoring that feeling became a habit. I only hope my heart can handle that reset.
Baby.
Fuck boundaries. Fuck rules.
Chase this feeling, the hormones inside me whisper in a tiny voice. Him, they encourage.
“Yes, baby,” I cry out with closed eyes, my second orgasm catching me off guard as I lose myself in the imagery of us. As Rafael and Angie.
Together at the beach.
Together making dinner.
Together salsa dancing.
Together in bed on a lazy Sunday with kids climbing over us, giggling and bouncing.
“Thank you,” Rafael hums, kissing my sex delicately.
My mind and body are floating too high to comprehend reality. Did he just thank me for dragging him away from his friends, demanding he make me come, and calling him a slut all while denying him an orgasm?
Yes, he did, the hormones giggle. Do you think he could call you Mommy next time, they ask.
Alright, they’re fired. Officially out of control.
“What?” I ask, then look down at him, his head leaning against my inner thigh and both hands gliding against my legs until they reach my backside and rest there. “I’m the one who should be thanking you.” I move my hand to cup his square jaw and gently push him so he’s sitting on the backs of his feet, then lean down and place a slow kiss to his perfect lips. The taste of my cum evident inside and outside his mouth. It coats everything from his expensive smile to the five o’clock shadow that darkens and defines his handsome features.
“The pleasure,” he hums against my lips, “was all mine. Can I help relieve you some more?”
“Hmm…tempting. Let me wash you first,” I say, keeping the kiss going.
“You wanna shower with me?”
“Not just shower with you, baby. I want to wash you.”
He hums again, his smile against my own. “I like when you call me that.”
Breaking our affectionate kiss, I slowly stand and hold out my arms for him to do the same. “Is that the subby name you’d prefer I call you?”
When he stands, his erection makes itself known by poking me in the stomach and we make our way to the bathroom. “I…” he hesitates. “Yeah. I love being called your little slut too, though. I like both. I love the mix of degradation and praise.”
Opening the expansive door to the walk-in glass shower, I turn the chrome handle and let the water warm up, then promptly take my damp shirt off. Rafael smiles and watches me—like he’s been doing it for years instead of a handful of times. I stand next to him in only a white, soft-yet-supportive tank-bra, while he helps me peel out of it, and our bodies immediately gravitate toward each other—our hands slowly searching, learning each other intimately like it’s the only thing we’d ever want to be educated in.
“Well then,” I murmur, my fingers tracing over his collarbone. “Let me praise you a little more. You were incredible today, baby.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re sex-drunk,” he smirks, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.
The heat of the shower ghosts over my back, so I open the door, guide us both in, and shut the door. “No, I’m serious,” I say, nudging him into the hot spray that relaxes his body. “Watching you play rugby is fucking sexy, Raf. You played so well today. You scored that try and an assist. You commanded your teammates. You listened. And your body,” I say in awe, pumping body wash into a cloth and gently scrubbing his shoulders, then massaging them. “Your body is like a work of art.”
The smile I gave him fades as he relaxes deeper into my touch, and he inhales the steam. He enjoys the moment as I continue to wash him. The soapy bubbles form and fall away in a waterfall down his abused body, marred with both new and old bruises.
When I’m finished washing him, I move on to his hair, asking him to sit down so I can properly scrub and massage his scalp and he grunts in the process. “I couldn’t help but envision you as this protective, dominant, rugged man-beast,” I say, which in turn makes him chuckle. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong, though.”
“No, not at all. Come on stronger if you want. It was refreshing,” he says as I start to work the conditioner in. “I’ve never been dominated by a woman before. It’s always been other men if we were playing that dynamic.”
A pang of jealousy spikes through my body at his admission. I know better than anyone that he sleeps around, but something extra painful bites at my heart knowing other people have dominated him. In a logical sense—a sense that once mostly controlled my life—I know sleeping with other people is normal and expected outside the confines of a platonic relationship. But my pregnant ass doesn’t see it that way. I don”t like it one bit.
“Ang, I’m all for the spa treatment, but can you remove your nails from my scalp?” he chuckles, and I leave my mental war. He continues, unaware and happy. “Honestly, I thought you’d be asking me for more action since we started this arrangement.”
“Oh,” I drawl, not expecting him to say that.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved what we’ve done so far but, I don’t know. I thought you needed me more.”
“Oh,” I repeat. The last of his conditioner is rinsed away, so I have him stand and lean him against the white tile wall. I lean into him, my round belly pressing against his flat one. “I actually haven’t been very upfront about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I didn’t want to freak you out with just how often I need…” Say relief. Say orgasms. Say anything but “You.”
“Oh, Angel, none of that now,” he says with a sad smile. “I’m serious. Anytime you need me, I’ll make myself available.” That sad smile transforms into a devilish grin though. “Afterall, it is my fault for being so sexy on the field today.”
The corners of my mouth curl up at that. “You know, with all that tackling and testosterone flying about, you’d think there’d be more players kissing in a ruck.”
His rumbling laugh vibrates through my body. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he teases.
“I just watch you guys and I’m like kiss kiss kiss. And I could ask you the same thing.”
“Oh, I’ve thought about it before, trust me.”
“It’s the ultimate rivals to lovers story,” I say coyly.
“Speaking of which, what other sexual scenarios do you wanna try courtesy of those spicy books?”
“How do you feel about role playing as a 2kraken?”
Rafael
I stare at her, jaw unhinged and eyes unblinking, but amused, nonetheless. “Never in a million years did I think those would be the words that would come out of your mouth.”
Biting her lip and looking anything but shy, her hands smooth down my hips and grip my thighs before saying, “Maybe it’s the fact that we’re in this shower and all wet…” she hisses, the obvious hunger clawing its way back into her body. My cock twitches as begins to writhe against mine—her full breasts sliding against my torso.
“You need me to be your kraken, Angel?”
“Yes please,” she breathes heavily.
“What’s the scene?”
Without hesitation, she launches into the backstory. “You’re a thousand-year-old grumpy kraken who’s been exiled from your community and the only way you can come back is if you steal an innocent human—me,” she nods, pointing to herself as if that isn’t obvious. “And bring her back as a sacrifice. But when you find me, you’re so entranced by my beauty and charmed by my sunshiny disposition that you simply cannot sacrifice me, cannot live without me,” she enunciates in a lower register, really getting lost in her own story. “And so you must choose between your exiled aquatic life or coming to land with me, where I must show you what your life could be like if the sea witch grants you your one wish.”
“There’s a sea witch?”
Her brow lowers. “Of course there’s a sea witch.”
“What’s the thing I must give in return to the sea witch?” “I don”t know, it’s not important.”
“Oh, that’s not important to the story,” I tease.
“Shut up.”
Removing the smile from my face and widening my stance, I hold her wide hips and study her face. Invested, I ask, “Okay. So we’re on land or in the water at this point?”
Her eyes light up again. “We’re on land, in my shower because you haven’t transformed into a human yet and I have to keep your skin hydrated. Secretly I want you to stay in your kraken form forever,” she adds.
“And how many tentacles do I have?”
“Eight.”
“Suckers?”
“So many.”
I grin. “Okay.” True excitement swirls under my skin as I push off the wall and pin her back to the same place I was. I hitch her leg up and her knee interlocks in my elbow as I dive right in. “How could I have sacrificed this perfect little human,” I growl, lowering my head into the crook of her neck and licking the water droplets away. She gasps and I challenge myself to bring more of them to her lips. My cock has been begging for relief since we left the field. I grab a firm hold at the base of my shaft, crouching down to line myself up against her pussy, still slick with the arousal I gave her, I think smugly, and maybe a little bit possessively.
“Yes,” she whines, her small fingers digging into my shoulder muscles and making me want to submit all over again. Which in a sense, I am right now. I may be the dominant one in this scene, but she’s given me explicit direction in the form of a wildly imaginative and monstrous setting.
I’m all too happy to indulge her.
My crown teases her warm cunt and it glazes my needy cock—or rather… “You want my tentacle in this sweet little human hole?”
“Yes,” she begs, lost to the scene already. Lost in the most beautiful and ethereal way.
My tentacle cock teases her more, just the tip slipping inside her for a second. “You wanna feel my suckers play with your clit, sunshine? You wanna feel them inside you—the suction on that one sensitive spot driving you to bliss?”
“Yes, Rafael.”
I can’t help exit the scene for a quick moment and smile. “Is that my kraken name?”
“Of course it is,” she says, still writhing and pushing her hips into mine, trying to get me to go deeper.
“Got it,” I say and shift back into my new persona. Taking her earlobe between my teeth, I whisper, “You want this big kraken to please you, little human?”
“Yes!”
I start to push in earnest, luxuriating in every slow inch being welcomed in. Sliding into her is like falling into bed after a long, exhausting day—the comfort of familiar smells and textures, the relief, the safety of home.
“Look at you giving yourself to me. Riding my tentacle like a good girl,” I groan. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby.”
Whoa, that slipped out way too easy. When Angie did earlier, I was so high with lust that I didn’t think twice. No one has ever called me that before, and I’ve never either. I’ve never been in a relationship where that level of comfort and sweetness existed—a level where loving nicknames like baby are said freely and generously. Hearing it come from the lips of my Angel didn’t feel strange or wrong though. My body had a visceral reaction to the sound. I wanted to hear it again from her, and clearly, my subconscious wanted to say it back.
God, it sounds good.
It feels good.
She looks down at where I told her to, watching me pump inside her slowly, watching our dark curls kiss with every thrust. With my other hand, I extend my index and middle finger, curling them under and finding her sweet clit waiting for me.
She lets out an adorably sexy whine when I start rubbing it in rhythm with our hips. In fact, it”s too damn tempting to ignore that when she makes it again, I have to capture one with my mouth. I have to take every last moan and whimper from her body and keep them like the treasures they are.
Her lips taste so dangerously sweet. What we’re doing as friends is far more than I’ve ever done with sexual partners before. Intimacy like this was never in the cards for me, and now I’m wondering how I ever lived my life without it? Does everyone know how great sex can be with someone you actually care about? With someone you want to give more pleasure to than you’d ever want in return? With someone who will make you laugh while you’re balls-deep, pretending to be a kraken?
No. I don’t think everyone knows, because someone would have told me by now, right? Sex for me has mostly been hot, mutually beneficial, and a little fun. But with Angie it’s depraved in the best way; it’s hilarious… It”s special. It’s so fucking different, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to what I was doing before.
Whatwas I even doing before?
I certainly wasn’t leaving hickies all over people’s bodies so they’d have evidence from their kraken lover’s suckers later on. But dios mio, look at her… covered in large red marks across her chest and shoulders—marks I’m sure will darken in an hour or two. I want to cover her body in them. I want to strangle her thick thighs with my tentacles like bondage rope and leave even more marks.
I want everyone to know that Angela Zofia Johanssen belongs to me. Even if it’s temporary.
Shit.
This is temporary,I remind myself, but even I’m not convincing that liar. I want to keep doing this with her. I want to keep playing these games and playing with control. I want to keep this good thing we have—with this perfect person who just so happens to be creating my children and driving me wild with desire at the same time.
“Yes. Harder,” she begs, grabbing two handfuls of my ass and squeezing.
A delightful rumble rises from the depths of my chest. “Whatever my little human needs, she gets.” Her eyes slam shut as I slam into her with as much force as I can, her head falling forward against my chest. “Do you want to keep me, human?” I ask, not entirely sure if that’s me or the kraken speaking. “I may have tried to steal you, but you have stolen me…body and soul.”
“Oh—fuck,” she cries out, her pussy clenching at me like a vise. “Yes, I’ll keep you!”
I don’t have time to unpack that and decipher our words and if they hold more meaning than they should, because all I can see is the try line and getting us both there. It doesn’t take much longer for me to follow her. In fact, her climax is still holding on to dear life as liquid sensation coils in the base of my spine and she milks my cock—tentacle—for all it has.
“Unghhh,” I grunt out, my entire body taught. “Good…little…human,” I manage to say through otherworldly pleasure.
Letting go of her leg, I allow her foot to return to the shower floor, but then wrap her in my arms and stroke her back. Her head willingly presses into my chest and her soft arms wind around my middle. “That was incredible, Ang. How do you feel?” I murmur into her wet hair as the shower runs over our shoulders.
“Fucking perfect,” she says with a squished cheek to my pec.
“Was I a good kraken for you?”
“The best,” she sighs.
“Good,” I smile. “Maybe next time we can involve our toy collections for a real multi-tentacle experience.”
The snort she lets out makes me instantly giggle along with her. “It’s a date,” she says.
I let her rest against me for a long while, holding her close enough to feel her heart beating and her rhythmic breathing. I wonder if I stay here long enough if I can feel our babies kick against my own stomach.
“Can I wash you too?” I whisper into her brunette crown. With a hum and a nod, she allows me to lather the shampoo and slowly massage it through her shoulder length hair. “So, what have we learned today?” I drawl.
“That your role play game is fire.”
“No,” I chuckle. “How about: you will tell me when you need me. Every time.”
She snorts again. “Okay. But I’m warning you, Raf—I wake up horny and borderline angry that there isn’t a cock already inside me.”
“Well, there’s a very simple solution to that, Angel,” I smirk, tilting her head to rinse in the spray. “I’ll sleep in your bed.”
1.I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by M?neskin
2.Super Freak by Rick James