“Allow me to repay your kindness.”
Ashe hesitates. “You don’t need to give me anything.”
“No, I don’t need to. But I want to.” I lean forward, letting my bioluminescence flicker brighter. “I want to show you how grateful I am.”
Her breath catches, and I can smell her arousal spike. “How… How do you mean?”
I extend a tentacle, brushing the underside of her jaw with my suckers. “Well…”
Her eyelids flutter shut as my suckers explore her skin, tracing the delicate line of her throat, dipping into the hollow at its base. She shudders at the sensation, before suddenly backing away, her cheeks flushed. “That really isn’t necessary. I-I don’t want you to think you owe me anything.”
I withdraw my tentacle, puzzled. “I don’t feel indebted. I simply wish to express my appreciation.” I pause, considering how to explain. “My kind… We’re tactile creatures. We communicate through touch. And we show gratitude the same way.”
Ashe blinks. “Through touch?”
“Yes.” I extend my tentacle again, slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she doesn’t, I brush her cheek with my suckers. “By showing you pleasure.”
Her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate. “Pleasure?”
I nod. “If you’ll allow me.”
She hesitates for a moment longer, then exhales shakily. “This is crazy. I’m… God, have I lost my mind?”
And yet, she doesn’t back away, as if waiting for me to convince her.
I lean in, letting my light patterns paint her skin in shifting colors. “Do you want me to stop?”
She swallows hard, then shakes her head. “No.”
“You’ve been alone for a while now too, haven’t you?” I murmur, tracing the curve of her ear with a tentacle. “Perhaps we can ease each other’s loneliness.”
Her eyes drift shut, and she tilts her head, exposing her throat to me. “Wow,” she whispers, a smile playing at her lips. “I knew you’d be dangerous. Just not like this.”
And as I wrap around her, I realize the most dangerous part isn’t what I might do to her—but what she’s already done to me.
Chapter 4
The Sea Monster’s Touch
Ashe
Yup. It’s official. I’ve lost my mind. I’ve caught a case of the Lighthouse Keeper Crazies. Because why else would I be standing here, letting a massive cthulhu touch me with his tentacles? Why else would I be feeling a rush of heat at the thought of him showing me pleasure?
His golden eyes study me, the patterns beneath his skin shifting blues and purples that cast light across my kitchen. I should be terrified. Instead, I’m transfixed.
“Are you certain?” he asks, his voice like distant thunder over deep water.
I nod, not trusting my voice. Am I certain? God, no. But I want this anyway.
His tentacles move with surprising grace for something so powerful. One tentacle curls around my waist, not restraining but supporting, while his hand brushes my cheek with a touch so gentle it makes my breath catch.
The texture of his skin is unlike anything I’ve felt before—smooth but with a subtle grip from each sucker that sends sparks through me.
“I’ve been alone a long time,” he murmurs, and the longing in his voice resonates with something deep inside me. I know that loneliness. I’ve lived with it for years.
“Me too,” I whisper.
His claws lightly trace the contours of my jaw. Each point of contact feels electric, reminding me of how long it’s been since I’ve been touched with any real intention.
