Page 71 of Orc'd At A Wedding
"You have me." His voice is a low rumble that vibrates through my body. "You have had me since the moment I walked into that hotel lobby and saw you standing there, pretending to be brave."
"I wasn't pretending." I tug at the lapels of his suit jacket, trying to shove it off his shoulders. "I was terrified."
"You were magnificent."
He shifts beneath me, helping me wrestle the jacket off, and then his hands are on my hips, guiding me to grind down against the hard, unmistakable evidence of his arousal.
I gasp, my head falling back.
"Olog—"
"Say my name again." His mouth is on my throat now, his tusks grazing my skin in a way that makes my body tighten with need. "Say it like you did that night in the hotel."
"Olog," I breathe, rolling my hips again, chasing the friction.
He growls, the sound vibrating through his chest, and then he is standing, lifting me with him, his hands locked under my thighs.
I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as he carries me down the narrow hallway to my bedroom.
He kicks the door open, steps inside, and lays me down on the bed with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.
I reach for him immediately, tugging at his tie, his shirt, anything I can get my hands on.
Olog catches my wrists, pinning them gently above my head with one hand.
"Slow," he murmurs, his eyes locked on mine. "I am not on a schedule anymore. I want to take my time."
I whimper, squirming beneath him.
"I don't want slow. I want you."
His mouth curves into a dark, possessive smile.
"You will have me, Bliss. All of me. But first, I am going to remind you exactly what it feels like to be worshipped."
Before I can respond, he releases my wrists and slides down my body, his hands pushing the oversized sweatshirt up and over my head.
I am bare beneath it, and the way his eyes darken as he takes me in makes my skin flush hot.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands sliding up my ribs, his thumbs brushing over my nipples.
I arch into the touch, gasping.
"Olog—"
"Patience."
His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing and tasting every inch of exposed skin, and I lose all coherent thought.
He takes his time, mapping my body with a deliberate, possessive focus that makes me feel cherished and claimed in equal measure.
By the time his hands hook into the waistband of my underwear and drag them down my legs, I am trembling, desperate, completely undone.
"Please," I whisper.
Olog looks up at me, his eyes burning with intensity.
"Tell me what you need."
