Page 121 of Florescentia

“Florescentia.” I tilted my head, letting the skirts fall over my thighs, my foot tracing across his chest and then falling to the side.

I thought I saw the ghost of a smirk before his form overshadowed me, his hand cupping under my thigh to lift.

A warmth rested on my pelvis, between my body and his. The weight pressed on my abdomen, leaving an insatiable curiosity at the pit of my stomach. I stole a glance, but it was hard to see, as his bottom half was still abstract and completely black.

He took my face in his hand, turning it up and away. “Still intimidated?”

“Should I be?”

His reply was a chuckle as he captured my lips again.

His hand fell from my face and brushed against my inner thigh, trailing closer. A firm press of his palm between my legs before it dragged upward.

He brought up his hand, licking his fingers in front of me.

I arched my hips, shifting under him, waiting for him to move.

He reached down, the member lifting from my abdomen, then the tip wiping the slick between my legs.

I shuddered; every feeling ran my imagination through loops. It may have been my head in a daze, but I was burning from the inside out. A more sober sense of reality may have pushed me to feel shame, but right now I was faced with the opportunity for fantasy, and I wanted to indulge as much as I wanted to devour the feastful illusion he’d made for me.

He leaned over, pressing forward.

The thick swell was hard; I was unsure if I could accommodate the pressure. For something that could change its form, it sure didn’t know how to adjust.

He must have felt me flinch, or maybe it was my nails digging into his inky skin.

The phallic limb softened, then moved.

“What was that?” I shivered.

“An alteration,” he said. “Close your eyes—it makes it more fun.”

I spared one long glare before I did so.

The member slipped over my pelvic bone, flexible and wet. It curled, slithered like a serpent. Then it teased between my legs again, a tapered feeling as it penetrated. This time I was more prepared for the pressure, a more gradual acclimation. It shifted, bent inside me. I wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or to let myself enjoy it. A curious sensation licked along my sensitive insides.

It paused, steadily pulsing.

“Tell me . . .” Altair whispered in my ear, the appendage flexing deeper inside me, “does it scare you, giving your body to something like me?”

“No,” I said firmly. I swallowed hard as my mind was lured away from any sense.

“You shake a lot for someone who isn’t the least frightened.” He placed a hand on my thigh, trembles erupting through my body. “Or is that the appeal of letting me use you like this?”

I laughed at the insinuation. “I thought you were giving me a taste.”

“I am,” he said. There was a current, electric like a live copper wire. It was enough to make my back shoot straight like a pin, my toes curling. Another appendage, definitely not fingers, lapped at my skin, then another. Similar to the one inside me, another wrapped around my breast, the other rubbing against my pelvis, the last one wrapping around my throat. I swallowed against it, my throat bobbing under the grip.

“How does it feel”—his voice was low, though more distant now, like he was just standing there watching me—“to feel me everywhere?”

What I thought was a gasp bloomed as a moan the minute it passed my lips. So many textures, so many sensations. It was overwhelming, orgasmic.

I opened my eyes. He stood straight, his hips between my thighs as he looked down at me, his body larger, transformed back to his beastly shadow.

His hips flexed, thrusting inside me. The tendrils of shadow were visible all along my body, wrapping me up and leaving not one inch of skin unexplored, nothing left untouched.

“Is that why you wanted to give me a taste?” I breathed. “In hopes I couldn’t refuse you?”