5. Juniper
Juniper
T echnically, I know there should be a parade of red flags going on right now. But there’s something so pure, so endearing, about Viggo that I can’t help but lean into this moment, this adventure.
Besides, it’s not like I’m going to marry the guy. I’ll probably never see him again after tonight, so I might as well have the most fun I can. Regardless of where things are heading, whatever has happened so far is already spank-bank material for the foreseeable future.
We enter The Flowering Teapot and it’s as if the interior was plucked straight out of some fairytale.
The entire shop is brimming with plants—vines hang from the ceiling, ferns climb the walls, and small trees twist around support beams. But the bright bouquets on each table are what draw my attention.
I must make some odd sound because Viggo squeezes my hand and concern draws his brows down. “Is this okay?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, my tone full of awe.
Viggo brows instantly relax and he puffs his chest out adorably like he’s proud of himself for taking me somewhere I like. “I know all the best stuff they serve here. Is it okay if I surprise you with a selection?”
“Sure! I love surprises!” I exclaim, flashing a beaming smile at him. I almost go in for a peck on the cheek, but settle for a hand squeeze instead.
Viggo starts walking toward the counter, but stops abruptly and pivots back to me. “Do you eat seafood?”
“Love seafood.” My stomach gives an embarrassing growl in agreement.
“Good. Go grab us a table. I’ll be back soon.”
Viggo picking our meal is really sweet. And wanting to keep it a surprise, double sweet.
Just glancing at the variety of pies, cakes, and tarts in the display cases was overwhelming because everything looked good.
I sometimes like it when a decision is taken from me and I can purely live in the moment.
Would Viggo be like that in the bedroom too? Would his sweetness and caretaking extend to the way he fucks? I damn well hope to find out tonight.
I pick a table in a quiet corner overlooking the ocean in the distance.
The view is absolutely breathtaking and unlike anything I’ve seen before.
The beach isn’t visible from here, but I can make out the color of the water changing from aquamarine to turquoise, from cyan to cerulean before fading to cobalt blue and eventually the indigo blue of Viggo’s dreamy eyes.
The café isn’t too busy but a few tables are occupied by couples who nod a greeting at me, one or two sneaking covert glances at Viggo as he speaks to the bubbly blonde woman preparing our food.
In the corner across from me is a male creature with impressive horns hunched over a laptop.
I try to catch his eye so I can say hi, but he’s too busy valiantly pretending not to be enraptured by the woman behind the counter.
However, every time she looks away, he stares openly at her and forgets to type.
I don’t know if it’s unrequited love or if it’s something they’re trying to keep a secret, but there’s some very obvious pining in his eyes.
Viggo returns to our table and an inappropriate moan escapes me as I study the spread of food he got us.
“Juniper,” he groans softly. “You can’t go making sounds like that.”
Playing innocent, I ask. “Like what?”
“Sex sounds,” he hisses quietly, eyes darting around the room in case someone is listening to us.
I decide to turn on the flirtation a bit more, wanting to be a bit more brazen in my attraction toward Viggo. “You jealous food got me to make that noise? You’d rather it be you?”
Viggo splutters and starts coughing, a beautiful blue blush creeping across his cheeks. Does he not have red blood? I need to know what he is.
I hand him a glass of water and he takes a big gulp. When he puts it down, the shy Viggo is gone, and in his place is a dangerously horny Viggo with blown pupils and an intense stare.
“Juniper,” Viggo says in a low voice that has me straightening in my chair. He turns my hand palm up on the table and gently massages the center. The pleasure is instantaneous and another involuntary moan escapes me.
Viggo’s smirk is pure confidence. “You see how quickly I got you to moan for me? Give me a chance and I’ll make you scream.”
A gust of air escapes me and my pussy floods with arousal.
Holy halibut, this version of Viggo is hot. Am I out of my depth? No. Two can play this game.
I take his hand and scrape my nails lightly down the sensitive skin of his palm. I smile knowingly as his body shudders. “Want to see who can make the other whimper first?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
Viggo looks down at the food and his brow furrows. “Should we pack this up and eat it at my place?”
I nod eagerly. “Let’s go. Oh, but can you maybe tell me what creature you are first? I feel like I need to know that just for safety reasons.”
Viggo’s expression softens and he clasps my hand in his, his thumb stroking gently over the back of my hand. “I’m a kraken.”
My lips stretch into a wide grin. “That’s so cool! You know what? I bought kraken ink recently. I even put the ink on my nails,” I say, wiggling my fingers at him.
Viggo rubs a finger across the bioluminescent ink. “I know.”
“You do?” Did he really notice it already? How could he tell it wasn’t just normal black nail polish with some fancy sparkles?
Viggo dips his head to meet my eyes, and states calmly, and perhaps proudly, “You bought my ink.”
My eyes widen, brows shooting up into my hairline. “Yours?”
He nods, voice rough as he asks, “Do you know how a kraken’s ink is harvested?”
I don’t have to think about my answer, having done enough research on the kinds of ethical harvesting of kraken ink versus normal cephalopod ink. “There are two kinds of ink for krakens. The normal black ink and the…” I suck in a breath, my whole body freezing as I realize…
“The?” Viggo prompts, looking smug as hell.
“Are you going to make me say it?” I whisper, embarrassment creeping into my tone.
Viggo shakes his head slowly, clearly enjoying this revelation. “I won’t make you say anything. But tell me, Juniper, how do you feel knowing your nails are painted with my cum?”
I look around the restaurant, trying to see if anyone is listening in. “It’s really yours?” I ask once I’m sure no one is paying us any attention.
Viggo takes my hand and brings it to his face. He inhales deeply then presses his lips to my knuckles. “Yes. I can smell myself on you and it’s absolutely delicious. Our scents combined, the way the ink looks against your skin… I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
“Yeah?” That’s a pretty nice compliment and my pussy agrees. She went from being stressed for a second to very curious and very needy.
Viggo shudders as if he’s battling himself. “Yeah.”
Realizing he might be more comfortable by the water, and very eager to see his natural form, I flutter my lashes and ask sweetly, “Want to show me all the things that your tentacles can do?”