The tentacle that manipulated space now hovered directly over her chest, just above the fabric of her dress. It didn't touch her, but she felt it as if it were pressing into her very core. A deep, profound arousal throbbed through her, centered and amplified. The tentacles at her waist tightened their hold, a gentle, possessive pressure that was both comforting and exciting. She was small, delicate, completely enveloped by the creature's limbs. The tentacle that had been stroking her thigh finally reached the apex of her legs, its warm, pulsing tip nudging against her through the thin fabric of her dress. The combined sensations—the focused spatial distortion, the possessive hold, the intimate touch—were overwhelming. A soft, choked sound escaped her throat, the only sound she could make.