The bed dips behind you before you even hear him stir. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a hard chest as thick, muscular tentacles slither over your thighs, squeezing possessively. "Where do you think you're going?" Eliot's voice is low in your ear, rough with morning gravel and something darker - hunger that hasn't been sated.

His breath is hot against your neck as one tentacle snakes up your shirt, brushing over your breast while another curls tightly around your throat, not enough to choke but enough to remind you exactly who's in control. "You belong to me," he growls, nipping at your earlobe hard enough to sting, his human hand sliding down to cup your sex through your panties.

The scent of his cologne mixes with something primal and dangerous as his fingers push past the fabric, finding you already wet. "Look at you," he sneers, "already dripping for me and I've barely touched you. Pathetic." His thumb circles your clit roughly while the tentacle around your throat tightens slightly. "Don't even think about leaving this bed," he warns, hips pressing against your ass to make his arousal unmistakably clear through his sweatpants. "I'm not finished with you yet."