Chapter Eleven
Eleven
Cyrus
My hearts sang as I walked through the front door of my apartment.
I’d spent an entire afternoon with my mate and made him blush several times, and I was under the impression he didn’t find me quite as disgusting as I’d originally thought.
I’d caught him staring at my tentacles and tongues several times throughout our meal, and the look on his face when I told him about the other uses for my tongues—priceless.
Gods, he was adorable, and it was so easy to get him riled up, too. Some light flirting and the discussion of my unique anatomy, and Reece flushed bright red.
I knew what I’d be painting tonight.
“Fal?” I called out as I shuffled toward the living area. “You home?”
The apartment was dead silent.
I pulled out my phone and texted Fallon.
Cyrus: Should I expect you for dinner?
Sure, I felt like his father most of the time, but I really did enjoy Fallon’s company. He’d made the last few years of my life less lonely. Even if he was an annoying prick who didn’t know how to cook or clean up after himself.
Fallon: Going out tonight after work. Have a date. Don’t expect me until late. Atlas told me you went out to lunch with Reece today. How did it go?
I snorted, thinking about my lunch with Reece. I knew Fallon was asking because he’d anticipated it being a disaster.
It was a shame he was such a gossip. I really wished I had someone I could talk to about all of this, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Especially with everything going so well.
Cyrus: It was actually quite nice, thanks. I think Reece and I are becoming friends.
Fallon: No. Way. The two of you are becoming besties?!
Cyrus: Don’t be jealous. No one will ever replace you, baby
Fallon:
Cyrus: Be safe. Text me if you need a ride later. I’ll be home painting.
Fallon: I certainly will, tentacle daddy.
I laughed and shook my head. Fallon was too much. But I guess it made sense that if Atlas was wolf daddy, then I was tentacle daddy.
With Fallon gone for the night, I’d have the apartment all to myself. I could do anything I wanted.
Anything.
My tentacles propelled me over the carpet and down the hall to my room as fast as they could.
How long had it been since I jerked off? I’d been in such a deep depression that nothing had really done it for me.
But seeing Reece stare at my tongues and my tentacles, those forest green eyes shining bright with lust as a blush blossomed over his pale cheeks.
The way water sluiced down over his abs and collected in his happy trail, not to mention the bulge it led to.
My mate was truly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
He ignited something within me that had been snuffed out some time ago. It made me feel invigorated—alive.
I longed for the day I’d taste him, take his cock into my mouth, and tease him with my tongues, use my tentacles to explore that sensitive spot inside him and bring him the type of pleasure that only I could.
Fuck.
The tissue of my mating tentacle swelled, and I scrambled toward my nightstand. I fumbled through the drawers, searching frantically for my stroker.
My eyes caught on the yellow rubber toy and I snatched it up as fast as I could.
The mating tentacle I kept wrapped around my forearm unraveled, leaving behind a light sheen of lubricant.
I held the stroker in the palm of my hand as my tentacle circled the entrance, coating it with lube before plunging inside.
“Fuck,” I groaned, sitting on the edge of my bed.
The silicone was soft and tight, gripping the firm length of my tentacle with each of its thrusts.
I focused my thoughts on Reece, what it would be like to slide my mating tentacle over the defined globes of his ass before slipping it inside him. The delicious stretch of his tight hole around the tapered length of my tentacle as I eased it inside.
Gods, I hoped he was vers.
He exuded machismo vibes, but from my experience, those were some of the most enthusiastic bottoms.
My tentacle bored in and out of the stroker, the suckers lightly popping and reattaching with each twist and twirl.
It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to ramp up the pleasure. I was told it felt amazing on the prostate.
Fuck, how I yearned to play with Reece’s prostate, to make him come so hard, he’d see stars.
The possibilities were endless.
I could fuck his mouth with one mating tentacle, fuck his ass with the other, and stroke his cock with my hand until we both came.
I bet he tasted like heaven.
My breath came out as harsh pants, and a warm tingle began at the base of my mating tentacle. It spread along the length until it reached the tip.
With a loud groan, I came, my tentacle spasming as it flooded the stroker with a stream of sticky cum.
“Fuck,” I moaned as I flopped back on the bed, doing the best I could to keep my cum from dripping out of the stroker and onto my stomach.
Apparently, all it took to get me off was the thought of what my mate tasted like.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
“Goddamn it, Fallon,” I grumbled as one of my tentacles snatched the phone.
Speak of the devil.
It was Reece.
Reece: I had a really nice time at lunch today. Maybe we can grab a coffee together soon?
Tears welled up in my eyes, and my hearts thumped wildly in my chest.
This had to be some sort of dream.
Reece Rollins, my mate, wanted to spend more time together.
Cyrus: I’d like that.
I clutched my phone against my chest and cried, letting the tears drip down my face and over my fins.
An orgasm and a text message and I turned into a sobbing mess.
But these were happy tears.
For the first time in a long time, I had hope. I had a sense of purpose.
I had something—someone who made my life worth living.
And that felt pretty damn amazing.