[Exclusive] TIS 1328.4 R18 Beach Episode (6). Inappropriate III
[Exclusive] TIS 1328.4 R18 Beach Episode (6). Inappropriate III
Pearl’s cheeks were flushed. Hair messy. Breathing uneven.
She looked good like this.
I slid my hands slowly up her thighs, fingers tracing along the soft skin beneath her skirt.
Then I leaned down close enough for my lips to brush her ear.
“C’mon,” I whispered darkly. “Ride me.”
Pearl inhaled sharply.
I smirked wider.
“I’m a very good horse.”
Pearl laughed breathlessly beneath me, cheeks flushed, hair spread across the pillow in complete disarray now.
“Try me,” she whispered.
Oh.
That tone.
That little challenge in her voice.
Dangerous.
“Make me ride you.”
I tilted my head slowly, grin stretching again.
“Fine.”
I leaned closer until our noses almost brushed.
“I’ll make you ride me…” I whispered softly.
Then my smile sharpened.
“…or I’ll ride you.”
The tentacles reacted instantly.
Like they sensed the shift before Pearl even did.
Several curled tighter around my arms and waist, slick limbs straining as if to drag me backward again. Pearl’s eyes gleamed triumphantly for half a second.
“You couldn’t,” she murmured smugly. “There’s a reason I’m the one who handles you.”
I glanced down at the tentacles wrapped around me.
Then back at her.
And laughed quietly.
“You’re right.”
Her expression flickered.
Because she knew me well enough by now to understand that agreement from me usually meant disaster was coming.
And then… I moved.
Fast.
One sharp twist of my hips.
One hand gripping her waist.
The next second our positions flipped completely.
Pearl gasped as I dragged her upright against me, her back hitting my chest while I pinned her securely in my lap. The tentacles reacted in confusion now, curling around us both as if unsure whose side they were on anymore.
She tried to wriggle free immediately.
I held her tighter.
One arm locked around her waist.
The other caught her wrist before she could use the tentacles properly again.
“I won,” I murmured near her ear.
She shivered.
“It’s too easy~”
“Cocky psychopath,” she muttered, still struggling slightly.
I laughed against her shoulder.
“You like that.”
Her breathing betrayed her again.
Fast.
Warm.
Uneven.
I could feel every little reaction pressed against me now. The rapid rise and fall of her chest. The subtle tremble in her thighs. The way her body kept instinctively pressing backward into mine even while pretending to resist.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I slid one hand slowly up her body.
Over her stomach.
Higher.
Until my fingers closed around one breast.
Pearl inhaled sharply.
I squeezed gently first.
Then firmer.
“Sensitive,” I murmured.
“Shut up.”
“No.”
My thumb brushed slowly over her nipple through the fabric, rubbing teasing circles while my other hand slid lower.
Her skirt bunched slightly in my grip.
Then… I hooked my fingers into the side of her panties.
Pearl froze.
“Oh?” I whispered. “Now you’re nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Liar.”
I pulled the fabric down slowly.
Not rushed.
Deliberate.
The movement dragged another shaky breath out of her as the panties slid lower over her thighs.
The tentacles twitched wildly around us now.
Almost agitated.
Or excited.
Honestly hard to tell.
I leaned closer to her ear again.
“Now,” I murmured darkly, “since you don’t want to ride me…”
I let the panties fall fully away.
“…I’ll ride you.”
Pearl actually whimpered softly at that.
Victory.
I grinned against her neck.
“I’m tired of being your toy, doc.”
My hand tightened lightly around her breast again while the other slid possessively along her thigh.
“Let me play with you.”
She tried to answer something sarcastic.
Failed halfway through because I kissed the side of her neck right where her pulse fluttered hardest.
The tentacles loosened slightly around us.
Not restraining anymore.
Watching.
Pearl tilted her head back against my shoulder involuntarily.
“There you are,” I whispered. “That’s the real reaction.”
“You’re… impossible…”
“Mm. And yet here you are in my lap.”
I slid my hand further along her thigh slowly, feeling the tension in her muscles.
“You know what I like about this?” I asked softly.
She swallowed.
“What?”
“You stopped acting like the doctor.”
Silence.
Then quieter now…
“You stopped acting crazy.”
I laughed immediately.
“Oh no,” I murmured. “I’m still crazy.”
I tightened my hold around her waist slightly and shifted beneath her just enough to make her gasp again.
“I’m just focused now.”
The room felt hotter.
Smaller.
The psych ward aesthetic had completely collapsed at this point. The bed sheets tangled around us, tentacles curling lazily across the mattress, Pearl’s doctor persona shattered into flushed breathing and sharp little reactions every time I touched her.
I loved this version of her.
Not because she lost control.
But because she fought for it first.
I brushed my lips against her jaw slowly.
“Tell me something, doc.”
She breathed shakily.
“What…”
“Who’s handling who now?”
Pearl stayed silent for a moment.
Then one of the tentacles suddenly wrapped around my thigh tightly.
Ah.
There she was again.
I laughed loudly.
“See?” I said smugly. “You can’t help yourself either.”
“You started it.”
“You invited me.”
“You escaped the restraints!”
“You made them too weak.”
Pearl groaned dramatically and leaned her head back fully onto my shoulder.
“You are the worst patient.”
I smiled against her skin.
“And you,” I whispered softly, “are a terrible doctor.”
The tentacles curled around us tighter again.
Not restraining.
Protective.
Possessive.
Like they’d chosen a side.
Mine.
Pearl’s breathing had completely lost rhythm now. Every little movement I made against her pulled another reaction from her lips. Small gasps. Soft curses. Breathless laughter every time I whispered something insane near her ear.
I held her firmly against my chest, one hand gripping her thigh while the other stayed wrapped around her waist.
“Still think you’re handling me, doc?” I murmured.
Pearl turned her head slightly, flushed face brushing mine.
“You talk too much.”
“Mm,” I hummed. “And you like listening.”
I shifted beneath her deliberately.
Her entire body jolted.
There it was again.
That sharp inhale.
That helpless little sound she kept trying not to make.
I grinned against her shoulder.
“You’re shaking.”
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Obviously.”