19. Aliana #2
Red embarrassment blinds me until I feel a touch on my cheek. Glancing through the haze of my own self-loathing for blurting out such a stupid and na?ve question—to a monster, no less—I look up to see Creep’s face.
I expect disgust. Or confusion. Maybe, possibly, a tiny bit of lecherous intent. But that’s not what I see.
His expression is hesitant and hopeful.
“Really?” he whispers, as if he can’t believe what I just said.
That makes two of us.
I nod, and the slight rub of his palm against my cheek when I move is the most luxurious feeling ever, like rubbing velvet against my skin.
Am I doing this? Are we really doing this?
I think we are.
But what does it mean?
It’s just a kiss, Aliana. Grow up. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
So why is my throat suddenly dry?
My palms start to sweat as Creep leans down, and that deep blue of his irises looks nearly all black, as if his pupils are blown out—as if he’s nearly as nervous as I am.
He’s a Terror–there’s no way he’s nervous. He’s one of the most powerful creatures in existence. I’m just some human he’s toying with for the moment.
Still, his breath hitches.
Maybe he’s swallowing a cough.
Yeah, that has to be it.
He scoots closer, and the wooden bed frame creaks, causing me to break into nervous laughter.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can lead missions for supplies, kill teeth without blinking, knock a bloody cup from another monster’s hand no matter the deadly odds…
but kissing? Oh, why did I ask for this?
How can I actually want to kiss a monster?
But, make no mistake, I do—I desperately do.
Creep’s arms don’t encircle me and demand, the way I expect, but he slides his palm from my cheek and gently cups my hands in his as his neck cranes down and my head tilts back until our lips meet.
At first, it’s just a tiny brush—the gentlest skim, a teasing touch. But he drags it on so long that I take a breath. And that’s when he presses his lips hard to mine.
It would be a lie to say he steals that kiss from me, because as soon as he becomes more aggressive, so do I. When his lips part, so do mine. And when his tongue darts out, I gladly tangle mine with his.
But then his tongue forks around mine, and I realize, I’ve never really been kissed before. Not like this. I swear it feels like he’s trying to drink in my soul.
What I thought was a simple request for a kiss quickly morphs into something more, something not full of laughter and shared secrets kept from the Terror who’s locked me up.
Instead, the Creeper’s kiss is full of promises that caress my lips and whisper they’ll fulfill all of my wishes.
Promises he’ll take care of me, pleasure me beyond my wildest dreams. Another kiss skims my upper lip and swears he’ll tell me all his secrets.
The nip to my lower lip seals his vow to keep me safe.
I feel all these things—know them—without him uttering a single word.
How is this possible? I wonder, as we connect underneath a rainbow of light—dawn reaching through the stained-glass windows to paint our skin where our hands collide and my fingers mold against his blue claws.
His palms are surprisingly soft, a wonderful contrast to the rougher texture of the backs of his hands, which look like tree bark but feel more like the fuzz-balled underside of a sweatshirt.
He’s warm. So warm that I find myself leaning closer—forgetting what he is and what I am and where we are. I forget the horrid world around us as this moment eclipses everything else.
And it’s overwhelming. It’s too much. Until it’s not enough.
I yank my hands from his grip and reach up to encircle his neck. His long, dark hair gets trapped underneath my palms as I press him closer to me, needing more. No one has ever given me whatever he’s giving me.
No man back in the forest ever wanted to learn my fears or laugh with me. I’ve never had someone stare at me the way that Creep does.
No man could give me what I needed, but a monster worships me.
Even now, his claws on my waist are hesitant, polite, cautious—though he breaks our kiss, breathing hard, placing his forehead against mine and whispering, “The things I want to do to you…”
“Yes, do them,” I whimper as I move to suck on his pulse in his neck, which is racing.
I let my hands wander from his hair down to his broad shoulders as I pull back, my eyes tracing over each and every one of the spots flecking his face.
Tattoos or a monster’s freckles, I’m not certain.
But I want to kiss each one. I rise up on my knees to do so, caught up in the moment, and place my first kiss to the ridge of his cheekbone and the tiny dot there.
“Wait.” He gently pulls me back from his face, and those gorgeous eyes of his study mine intently. “You mean it?”
“Yes.” I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more in my life.
I’m bobbing in the ocean, and waves of emotion keep cresting and pushing me toward him, the tide, the moon—the very universe—telling me that he’s my shore.
My destination. I don’t question why or how I was adrift in the first place. Questions are for later.
Need outstrips logic as I drag my palms down over the thick, corded swells of his biceps, my gaze dipping down along his cut abs to the massive bulge in his pants.
It seems big, far too big. It looks as wide as both my hands set side by side, but that’s got to be a trick of the light.
I’m certain it’s just the way the fabric wrinkles.
Noticing my gaze, Creep pulls me forward onto his lap so that my legs straddle his. His lips seek out mine again, and his hand trails a line of fire down my spine as he gently caresses it and then—ever so slightly—palms my ass.
I lean into him, my pelvic bones pressing forward, wanting to match his pace—this dazzling patience he has that’s both exquisite and nearly painful. I swivel lightly on top of him, only to realize that the bulge I thought I saw is indeed massive.
Holy shit.
How’s he going to fit that thing inside of me?
A little bit of nervous apprehension clouds the back of my mind, but then something happens to make it evaporate into thin air.
The bulge pressed against me moves of its own accord.
Is his dick sentient?
Fuck.
It moves again, and I feel a slight protrusion under the fabric. It wavers back and forth as if it’s nuzzling me. Pleasure shimmers through me, dancing like light over the forest leaves on a windy day.
Oh my God.
It doesn’t stop.
His dick takes up some sort of rhythm and moves left to right, back and forth, again and again until I’m dripping and sodden and desperate. My kisses turn into little nips because I can’t focus on his mouth, only on the buildup of sensation.
I start to whisper to him, “You make me feel so naughty.”
“Oh, I hope you won’t just feel it. Will you be naughty for me, Aliana?”
“Mmm, yes. What do you want? Do you want me to suck you?” I ask, breathlessly, pulling back to study his face.
He presses his lips together. “Soon. But first, I’m going to need you to agree to be open-minded.”
A skittish flutter crashes through me. What does he mean by open-minded? Is monster sex that different from human sex? I know there are fangers who think it’s amazing, but…what does he want from me? Is he being cautious because it will hurt?
He can see my nerves, and his hand comes up to cup my cheek. “Nothing bad.”
Why do his words instantly reassure me? I shouldn’t trust him…but I do.
“I want to do some things to you first,” he whispers, nuzzling my neck, his horns lancing my hair and lifting it, making it rub against my neck and tickle parts of my back. “I want to give you all kinds of kisses. Dirty kisses.”
Oh! Oh. Relief soars through me. “Yes. Yes. I’m fine with that.”
“They’re going to be different than human kisses.” His forked tongue splits, and I can feel the two separate parts of his tongue dancing over my neck.
“Okay,” I breathe.
I can handle forked-tongue kisses. In fact, the idea of that tongue splitting around my clit, the two sides of it massaging me—I start to grind harder against him.
“You want that, little warrior? All the kisses?”
“Yes. Yes. I want that.”
“Then climb off my lap and take off my pants.”
It’s an order I’m eager to follow. Maybe he’ll want to sixty-nine. Anything to have his forked tongue on me. He hasn’t undressed me yet, hasn’t even used that mouth on my nipples. So many things to look forward to. My mind flicks through all of them as I kneel on the tapestry in front of him.
I reach for the tie of his pants and undo it, then undo a button beneath it. Before I can yank down his waistband, however, he grabs my wrist.
“Remember, open-minded.”
“Fuck. What’s inside your pants?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond. His eyes simply glitter in the light of the chandelier as he lifts his hips in invitation so that I can pull his pants down more easily.
Nerves mingle with eagerness as I reach again for his waistband and then tug gently. His pants are stretched tight over that bulge between his thighs, and I have to yank harder than I expect to get his pants to come down.
But once they’re down, I gasp, sitting back on my heels in shock.
The Creeper doesn’t have a giant cock. There’s no tentacled appendage waving at me, suction cups at the ready. No.
Instead of a dick in his pants, he’s got a second face.