Chapter Fourteen Storm
“It’s storming. The beach is closed to swimmers for now. I have to check in around noon.”
In a curtain of blissful sleep, I’m confused. “What?”
Also who?
Why?
There’s a soft, deep masculine voice in my ear, and a warm, strong body slowly slipping from my side.
Mercer.
Mercer, who wrecked me in the best possible way, all without actually using his cock. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I remember my limbs feeling like overcooked pasta, limp and completely unstrung after the third peak that made every muscle quiver and shake.
“It’s raining hard.” Mercer’s voice comes from the window now. “I’m going out to get some water on my skin. Means I won’t have to leave so soon.”
“It’s dark,” I murmur, rolling over and gasping at how tender my entire body feels.
I thought the early days of fantastic, passionate, athletic sex with Eli were good.
I chuckle delightedly into my pillow and realize that I’ve now had something ten times better—and it was just the appetizer with Mercer.
That’s a good noise, love?” Mercer whispers, kissing my hair as I luxuriate in bed.
“The best, love,” I call him “love” back, and I can feel him grow taller over me. “Have fun in the rain. Zack will probably be up soon. I should go make—”
“You should sleep more. I will make breakfast.”
“You can’t spoil me like this.”
“Can. Will. Did it last night.” Mercer leans over me once more, his hands gliding a sinuous trail up my naked body before tucking me back in. “And will again whenever I’m allowed.”
Despite what Mercer said about sleeping in, once I’m awake, I’m usually awake. It’s a reflex of being the only one to get up with a baby and take care of a toddler, and probably also the desire to get work done before my ball of energy wakes up.
I check my phone and see the local news has announced “strong gusty thunderstorms” for my area beginning in about an hour. I see the alert that the beach is closed until further notice, to check back at noon for updates.
I see a message from Linda, asking if I received the letter.
Madelyn: No. I didn’t receive a letter asking me to choose between keeping my son with me, the only parent he’s ever known, and stop receiving financial support to provide food, shelter, and education for him, or letting him be stolen away by a—
I pause, then erase it all.
I don’t want to think about that letter. The man I married because I thought he was the best one, the most compatible one, the handsome one, the one with a good job and a secure future—even if I knew he was somewhat selfish and immature.
The boy masquerading as a man.
I look out the window and see Mercer’s shadowy form in the gray light of the overcast sky. He’s a muted green in this low light, and he stands like some ancient god, tentacles lifting to the air, hands cupped to grab the rain and then massage it into his broad shoulders.
That’s the real man. My man. My monster.
Mate, he calls me.
My mate. I try the words out in my head, and they reverberate with a primal thrill.
I stare at him longer, realizing when he turns that his silhouetted shape is different.
An extra tentacle, much shorter than the rest, juts up to the sky.
My pussy gives an achy throb, remembering what that man can do without even using that supremely thick, gorgeous cock with its delicate ridges.
Madelyn of a few weeks ago would never have slipped into her bathrobe and run outside in the rain, barefoot, eager to see if this gorgeous monster would be interested in my “flabby mom bod.”
Madelyn of this morning rushes to claim what’s hers.
“Madelyn! It’s pouring.”
“I was thinking that you’d better stay here today,” I answer, smoothing my soaking hair back. “Zack will be worried if you go home to the lake when the storm rolls in.”
“I’ve lived through a thousand storms in the ocean. You stay near the bottom in your shelter. In this lake? I’ll be fine.”
“Oh. In that case, what if I just want you to stay because I want to spend the day with my... my mate?”
Mercer had been shielding me from the sight of his erection by draping his tentacles in front of it, bunching two of them across his lower torso. Now, he drops them. “You don’t know what a turn on it is to hear you say that. You mean it?”
“I... I’m trying to. I’m just...” I swallow. “Yes, I mean it, but don’t expect me not to have random freak outs where I’m afraid to mean it. Deal?”
“Deal.” Mercer opens his arms, pulls me into them, and takes me into the secluded space between the big oak in our yard and the fence. His tentacles form a cocoon around our bodies as I open my robe and press into him, kissing him with a thankful sigh.
My hands trail down his chest, stroking each dip and ridge, kissing from his strong jaw down his hard, flat swathes of muscle, humming little kisses until my hands grip his cock.
I use both to form a net around him, lacing my fingers and stroking.
“I didn’t get this last night,” I remind him pointedly, eyebrows arched in a combination of playfulness and reproach.
“Last night wasn’t the time. You needed to relax.”
“Oh, I was relaxed.” My pussy throbs, and there’s an ache amidst the pleasure from how vigorously his thick tentacles plundered me.
“I didn’t want you to think I was only there for my own pleasure. I was going to take care of my needs this morning.”
“You know, you’re a wonderful person,” I say, bending.
My chin brushes the tip of his cock, and Mercer stiffens, holding his breath.
“And I love that you’re showing me how unselfish you are after I’ve been dealing with the fallout from one supremely selfish, immature jerk.
But you have to remember—I’m not selfish. ”
“I know that! You are the most loving, giving, selfless—oh. Ohhhh.” Mercer’s litany of praise turns into a breathless noise when my mouth works over his tapered tip.
He’s so slippery. There’s an extra viscousness to his pre-cum that fills my mouth almost at once, and the little bit of my brain that’s not marveling at how smooth and thick he is works to make sense of it.
He probably needs to be extra slippery because krakens mate in water, right?
Water would make it hard for a female and male to move smoothly together unless they were extra wet.
And he’s fucking huge. Even though I start slow, my eyes riveted to Mercer’s face so I can see his reaction (which is hugely satisfying as I reduce my giant of a lover to a whimpering puddle of thrashing tentacles and bitten lips), my jaw aches in a few minutes.
I start blaming myself for being rusty at this, or for at least not having limbered up with some serious making out, but then I realize that even at halfway down, Mercer’s cock is huge.
When I take a breath, I think Mercer must be able to tell how daunted I appear.
“Madelyn? Remember what you told me? Inside good, outside better?” Mercer gasps.
“Mmhm?” I lick my lips and start looking for some secret “inside” entrance.
“The ridges are the strongest erogenous zone for me. If you remain from the tip to the ridges, you’ll give me the greatest pleasure.”
I nod, glad he told me, and also glad that they taper down into his base past the halfway point of his thick member.
Glad he stretched me already, and did it with those amazing tentacles... Honestly, they leave all cocks behind. Except this one, maybe.
As if reading my mind, Mercer’s voice keeps going.
He leans back against the tree as the rain pours.
His lip isn’t bitten now, but instead twists into a sexy smirk as he sighs.
“You have the most divinely perfect little pocket for me, my love. So tight. And you kept taking more and more of me last night—as if you were as hungry for me as I am for you.”
I make a heated sound around his tip, sucking and swirling my tongue over it, catching the beads of pre-cum that taste like sea air turned liquid.
It’s oddly addictive, and my fist works his base up to his ridges while my mouth works in the opposite direction, barely meeting in the middle, milking his essence into my mouth.
Mercer lets out a strangled sound, and I feel one of his tentacles stroking my slippery pussy, the tip teasing my clit and slowly parting the swollen outer lips, looking for my entrance.
On my knees in the wet grass, I rock back, letting his tip invade, sitting down as he pushes in, crying out as he corkscrews inside of me, filling me with enough inches to make me wince, and with the perfect amount of pressure to make me moan.
“Keep sucking my cock, sweet mate, and let me fuck that delicious little slit of yours.”
I rock back and forth on my knees, meeting his squirming thrusts, still not used to how amazing the sensation of something so strong and prehensile inside of me is.
When another tentacle joins the first, I almost bite down on the cock stuffed in my mouth, but Mercer isn’t stretching my limits that far—at least not now.
The second tentacle’s tip finds the space between my cheeks and acts like a tongue, stroking and petting the secret off-limits entrance I’ve played with but never fully explored in bed.
Maybe a part of me sensed it was unwise to do that with a selfish person who might get carried away with his own pleasure.
I have no such fears with Mercer, who doesn’t push, just drives me mad with the soft licking sensation that sets all of my nerves on fire.
Mercer lifts me up, pulling me into his arms. My grassy knees find his waist, the place where man and monster meet, and he pants out my name as he makes a sling for me with one tentacle under my backside—the others still squirming wildly inside of me and against me.