Chapter Twenty-Six The Nova #2
A low, rumbling noise came from behind me. It was intense enough to feel it vibrate through my chest.
A pair of claws positioned themselves on my hips; I watched them gently take hold.
Then I was pushed over the sofa, and I grasped the backing.
He pulled the ankle of one of my legs, straightening it, as the other knee dug into the cushions.
I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. It was like I’d been confronted with a living nightmare. But instead of fear, I was overpowered with the thrill of morbid curiosity.
The wet tongue wiped between my legs, sending such a violent chill, it was like I was hypothermic all over again.
“Be still or I’ll stop,” Altair said, the rumble still present in his voice.
I pressed my forehead into the back of the sofa, looking down to get a peek between my legs.
The shadow moved, the sheer nightgown casting a puppet show for me to work with my imagination.
It was like an octopus’s arm, curling and positioning its tapered point forward. The shadow neared, then I felt it between my legs. The hot tongue prodded at my . . . fuck.
It went inside, slow and shallow, before pulling out. I was shaking, the slick texture like nothing I’d felt. It was hot too. Like a bed warmer. Tenderly, it slipped in and out, a bit of wetness dripping down my leg as it built a lubricant.
Then it went in and didn’t come out. It just kept going, deeper and deeper, until I could feel it pushing within me. With a careful pressure, it pushed down, then up, beginning a circular motion while it was inside me.
I covered my mouth, but it didn’t stop the moan. It was short, but I was sure he’d heard it.
His claws dug into my hip and leg. I could feel his breath between my legs as he massaged the slick tongue inside my body.
I gripped the back of the sofa tighter, moving my hips back onto his face as he slithered within. I swore I could feel the individual tips pressing deeper. I could feel everything; it was too many sensations.
A low rumble came from him, then his lips sucking as he massaged my insides. My hips were held in place as he feasted, the wet laps making my legs shake.
“Ha . . . ah . . .” I breathed, my abdomen tight as I closed my eyes. I was almost there, the rhythm putting me in a trance between the movement of my hips, the pressure, the stretching—then it stopped.
I pressed on his face further, as if to chase the quickly fading orgasm that had been building.
It escaped me, and I groaned, frustrated with the lack of movement.
I looked down between my legs, the shadow blocking the way.
He was there still. I could feel him. So I moved again, feeling his tongue go in and out as I bent my knees.
A rumble so low it sounded like it rattled came from him. I could only assume it was satisfaction.
But then he grabbed my ankle, standing up and taking my leg with him to flip me onto my back.
The dark shadow was so large, vaguely human in shape, like the first time I’d seen him. His giant hand wrapped completely around my ankle. The tongue retracted, flicking as it pulled out and retreated into his chest. There was no human-shaped mouth in sight.
He grabbed my hip with one hand that nearly encompassed half my waist. Even with the deadly talons, it seemed he was careful not to pierce my stomach from the pressure.
I squirmed in his grip, but he was too strong. Between his legs, something arose. A slit in his groin area unsheathed.
A long, red, seemingly phallic limb presented itself.
It was flexible, moving like a snake. The girth was questionable in compatibility: I could grab it with both hands.
The speared head approached, then it opened four ways, like a flower—except much more horrific.
When it opened, it reminded me of a starfish’s texture, hundreds of little bumps that disappeared inward in the middle, to an opening.
At the tip of each “petal” was a black hook.
My legs snapped shut as I clasped my hands between my thighs.
There wasn’t much expression from him to ease me, except the fact that he stopped when I squirmed. My stomach dropped. What in the living hell was he going to do with that?
My breath wasn’t getting steadier, but I lay my head back on the cushion.
Hesitantly, I parted my legs.
The phallic limb twitched in anticipation. I could even see what looked like blood vessels pumping through the veins. The closest comparison could only be described as some deep-sea creature found only in the lightless depths.
Every reflex wanted me to flinch away the nearer it got, but I was determined. He wouldn’t hurt me; I trusted that he wouldn’t. If he’d wanted to, he would have already. This was his offering of pleasure, even if it struck fear at first glance.
It pressed between my legs, the tip opening wider as it positioned itself.
Is that supposed to go inside?
The relief I felt when it merely pressed between my legs, the starfish-like tips simply holding their position from the outside. The black claws pinched me as they pressed against my skin. I swallowed thickly, hoping that would be the end of it.
Then I felt a bulge.
From the center of the tip, something hot protruded, smaller than the sheath it had come from.
The flexible thing pushed into me easily with its own lubricant, the smooth extension filling me. The semi-firm addition swelled inside once it was positioned comfortably.
The beast leaned over, his form so large he could crush me if he simply decided to lie on top of me.
“Ah . . . wait,” I whimpered.
His other hand scooped under the curve of my back, and he had to rest a knee on the sofa to get his hips closer. He rolled them forward, a deadly rattle vibrating in his chest, a predatory grumble shaking me to my core.
I dug my nails into the chest, his shadowy form becoming warmer where I touched him.
His movements were at no point forceful or violent, despite what his beastly appearance might suggest. They were warm, tender. Everything he was making me feel was with my human body in mind, even if perhaps he was having fun striking the fear of the stars into me at first.
The member filled all of me, moving slightly, but most of it a slow, sensual grinding. Even with the piercing spikes, the phallus’s flesh was hot and wet against my sensitive places.
I squirmed with it instead of away from it this time. It was the perfect texture, slightly tough but wet enough to not be coarse. There was even a gentle vibration coming from the member.
Altair made another noise, more of a bestial whimper, a deep pant as his body curled around mine.
He was absolutely gigantic, his head resting against the sofa armrest. My hands touched his chest. The seam of his second mouth started at his sternum, extending down to his pelvic bone.
Thank the stars it was closed, or I might have been afraid of being eaten right here in a moment of careless pleasure.
That pleasure heightened as I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensitivity. It was such a strange feeling, the fullness inside. It almost made the friction more intense.
“Altair!” I gasped for him as if I were drowning, and only his name could bring life to my lungs. I bucked my hips against the touch, holding on to him as if to brace myself. “Ah . . . please . . .”
I worked myself into a rhythm, and it seemed his primal groans became more frequent, his grip tightening.
Just the thought of pleasuring myself on such an ungodly monster brought a curdle of shame to my gut, which only bloomed into some forbidden pleasure I had never thought of.
Courting such a thing should have been unimaginable, disgusting, yet I was fulfilled, free of judgment.
Or possibly, the allure of it all was the taboo.
That his desire wasn’t transactional, just pure, primal lust.
Then suddenly it was electric, a shock shooting from my pelvis up to the back of my neck. My body tensed and my legs squeezed against his hips. I broke one of my nails while digging them into his body.
His large hand gripped my hip, thrusting deep.
He buried his head against my shoulder, the other hand holding the back of my skull.
Then the thrusts became harder, the restraint seemingly gone as he helped himself.
The hand on my head kept it from hitting the arm of the sofa, his claw stinging as it dug beneath the skin.
The shots of pain emphasized the pleasure, putting my head in a dizzying euphoria I could never have imagined.
I was small, for once. Overpowered, yet in control enough to know that if I uttered the words, he would stop.
A hot pumping gave me a feverish sweat, his cock pulsing routinely, fast, then at a slower pace. My stomach had a small swelling before the hotness leaked out, spilling down to the cushion under my backside.
As the pulsating sensation wore off, a deep-seated shame took over, brought to me by clarity of mind. I covered my face, my legs shaking from the exertion.
His body shrank, and he pulled out his cock. Which only led to more fluid spilling out.
I closed my legs tight, then the dip of a more normal-size body beside me.
His arms pulled me into him, his head touching mine. With a deep breath, I relaxed, tipping my head into him.
Another rumbling, but it was as human a sound as ever.
“Are you hungry?” I unshielded my face.
His head rested against a pillow, already staring at me by the time I laid my eyes on him. His black markings were sleek with a slight dewiness, like it had been just as much work for him as it was for my own body.
He shrugged, and there was a grumble again.
I raised my brow.
“Well, based on that appetizer,” he said, smiling, “I could just eat you.”
“Worked up an appetite, then?”
“Very much so.” He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. There was almost a purr coming from him, the hum of a live wire, pure voltage.