Fifty Shades of Tentacles
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A seemingly random chain of events finds Cleopatra Ell interviewing the enigmatic billionaire Johnny Rock Stariha, but he's far less interested in journalism and far more interested in her. With such a gorgeous and demanding man after her, Cleo finds it impossible to say no. Little does she realize that the wealthy young entrepreneur hides an erotic secret beyond her wildest imagination. More
Warning: This erotic parody contains a perverted billionaire, virgin deflowering, domination, triple penetration, female ejaculation and--spoiler!--tentacles.
Johnny Rock Stariha crossed the sex dungeon to me. One of his hands touched my shoulder, while the other tilted my chin up to look into his eyes. “How kinky are you?”
I blushed bright red and bit my lip. “I'm a virgin.”
He narrowed his eyes at my answer, then shook his head, looking annoyed. “We'll have to take care of that, then.”
It was just the sort of romantic thing every little girl dreamed of hearing.
Both of his hands slid into my hair, cradling my head as his lips found mine. When we kissed they felt just as perfectly soft as they had looked, though that softness didn't last long. He became more insistent quickly, his lips pressing to mine with bruising strength as his tongue pushed past them, then tangled with mine. I made a quiet sound of hunger as I melted against his chest. He kissed me like he'd been in a desert for a week and I was the last drop of water.
When he broke the kiss, I whimpered weakly. My lifeline had been cut and all I could do was float in the aftermath, my eyelashes fluttering slightly.
“There is one thing I need to show you, though,” he murmured.
“Yes?” I breathed, finally drawing back to look up at him.
His hands left my hair to move down his body. I realized he was opening up his slacks and stepped back, blushing deep red again while my inner goddess plastered herself to the backs of my eyes and nearly blocked out my vision with her drool.
Under his slacks were silk boxers. He hooked his thumbs under the waist of them, then slid them downwards. What I saw next made me blink. Instead of the purple helmeted warrior of lust I'd come to expect from romance novels, he had tentacles.
At least fifty of them.
“Oh golly!” I cried out.
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