Page 32 of Orc'd At A Wedding
"Not enough."
"Bliss—"
"Please, Olog. I need—I need more."
I withdraw my hand, and she makes a frustrated sound of protest that turns into a sharp inhale when I grip the waistband of her underwear and tear the cotton apart with one sharp tug.
"I'll buy you new ones," I mutter.
"I’m not concerned about the underwear," she gasps. "I care that you're still fully dressed and I'm about to lose my mind."
Fair point.
I release her long enough to shrug out of my wine-stained dress shirt, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap that would have horrified me six hours ago. Her eyes widen as she takes in the full expanse of tattoos covering my chest and arms, and I freeze.
Humans don't always react well to Orc markings.
But Bliss just reaches out and traces one of the thick black lines with trembling fingers, her expression awed.
"These are beautiful," she whispers.
"They're soup recipes," I admit.
She blinks.
"What?"
"And my family tree. My grandmother insisted I get them all documented before she passed. Most Orcs think they'reintimidating war markings. They're actually her instructions for bone broth."
Bliss starts laughing, the sound bright and genuine and so unexpected that I can't help but smile.
"You're telling me," she gasps between giggles, "that every time someone has backed away from you this weekend because they thought you looked dangerous, you were actually just wearing your grandmother's cookbook?"
"Essentially, yes."
"That's the most adorable thing I've ever heard."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Adorable?"
"Terrifying," she corrects quickly, her eyes sparkling. "Absolutely terrifying. Very scary soup."
I capture her mouth again, swallowing her laughter, and she wraps her legs around me with enough force to pull me flush against her. The heat of her core presses directly against the rigid length of my cock through my dress pants, and I have to brace both hands on the counter to keep from losing control entirely.
"Bliss," I grit out. "I need you to tell me exactly how far you want this to go."
"All the way," she says immediately.
"I'm significantly larger than a human male."
"I noticed."
"I'm not trying to—this isn't ego. I'm saying there are logistical considerations. I don't want to hurt you."
She cups my face in both hands, forcing me to meet her gaze.
"Olog," she says firmly. "I trust you. Completely. I know you'll be careful. I know you'll stop if I ask. But right now, I need you to stop treating me like I'm fragile and just—just take what you want."
