By Christa Wick
Buy new: $2.99
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First tagged by Christa Wick
Customer tags: tentacle sex, explicit, aliens, erotica, graphic, alien erotica, tentacle erotica
Review & Description
It's horny, it's hungry, it's from outer space!
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This 6,600+ OMFG ZORG story is for readers who like explicit sex featuring alien plant tentacles, dryad myths and the deliciously nasty cum-uppance of a greedy research biologist.
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Crane fired off one question after another on the walk back. The technical ones didn't bother me, but it was clear he had an itch to do something stupid -- like post pictures of the plant online. Worried, I followed him onto the porch and accepted his offer for a cup of coffee before we both had to leave.
Inside his small kitchen, he started to heat water. "I mean, what harm is an anonymous post on Botany Net--"
"You know nothing's anonymous, Deputy Crane..."
That irritated pucker surfaced on his face once more before it smoothed flat. "Please, Doctor Whatley, I've told you half a dozen times it's okay to call me Ollie...or Oliver."
I forced a smile and batted my eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry, it's just the uniform..." I waved a hand loosely in his direction, my sleeve fluttering. A small stain of heat flushed my cheeks. "It's so damn commanding. I'll try to remember, if you promise to call me Marcia."
His bleached blue irises lit up at my request. In his late thirties, with dirty blonde hair and a weathered tan, he really could be quite attractive. I took a deep breath in and then another.
On the third long drag of oxygen, I started to panic.
Something was wrong. I'd grown all hot and humid between my legs again. My clit was swelling, my labia tightening against one another. Barely detectible in the air was the sweet, heavy musk of honeysuckle that wasn't honeysuckle.
I held my breath, looked wildly around. I'd stored my field kit in the trunk of my car before coming inside. It had to be something in the house. He'd brought a plant in the night before or some article of clothing or boots had been contaminated and not put away. Maybe even the clothes he was wearing -- the fumes more potent now that we were in the small space of his kitchen
"Something the matter, Marcia?" Two steps and he stood next me, his body brushing against mine.
"I can smell it, here in the house. You tracked some in last night."
"No, you did."
His hand circled my wrist. He raised my arm up to my face. A thin string of the slime clung to the cuff of my sleeve. That close to my nose, the scent washed over me, tugging at my body like I was a marionette. My hips thrust forward, pushing against his groin.
Crane was on me in an instant.
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