Page 72 of Orc'd At A Wedding
"You. I need you."
He stands, stripping out of his remaining clothes with efficient, deliberate movements, and the sight of him, bare andscarred and covered in those intricate black tattoos, steals the breath from my lungs.
He is beautiful in a way that is raw and primal and utterly overwhelming.
He climbs onto the bed, settling between my thighs, his massive frame dwarfing mine.
I reach for him, my hands sliding over the hard planes of his chest, tracing the lines of ink that cover his skin.
"What do these mean?" I ask breathlessly.
"My family tree," he says, catching one of my hands and pressing a kiss to my palm. "My grandmother's soup recipes. A map of the stars over my home village."
I laugh, the sound shaky.
"You are covered in recipes and star charts?"
"And one very detailed record of my accomplishments in hand-to-hand combat." He leans down, his mouth brushing mine. "I will translate them for you later. Right now, I have more important priorities."
Before I can respond, he shifts his hips, the thick head of him pressing against my entrance, and my body tenses with anticipation.
"Breathe," he murmurs, his hand sliding between us, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes me gasp. "Relax for me, Bliss."
I try, forcing myself to take a slow, shaky breath, and then he is pushing inside, slow and deliberate and overwhelming.
The stretch is intense, bordering on too much, but Olog is patient, murmuring low, soothing words in a language I don't understand as he works his way deeper.
By the time he is fully seated inside me, I am shaking, my hands fisted in the sheets, my body struggling to adjust to the sheer size of him.
"Okay?" he asks, his voice strained.
"Yes." I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. "Move. Please."
He groans, his hips pulling back before driving forward again, and the friction is so perfect, so overwhelming, that I cry out.
He sets a slow, devastating rhythm, each thrust deliberate and deep, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises.
I lose myself in the sensation, in the way he fills me completely, in the low, possessive growl he makes every time I moan his name.
"Mine," he rumbles, his mouth against my throat. "You are mine, Bliss. No more contracts. No more pretending. Just us."
"Yours," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Always yours."
He shifts the angle, hitting something inside me that makes my body go tight, and I shatter, crying out his name as the orgasm tears through me.
Olog follows seconds later, his hips snapping forward one last time as he groans my name, his entire body shuddering with release.
He collapses beside me, pulling me against his chest, his hand sliding possessively over my hip.
We lie there in silence, our breathing slowly returning to normal, and I have never felt safer or more complete in my life.
"I love you," I whisper against his chest.
"I love you," he rumbles back, his arms tightening around me. "And I am never letting you go again."
I smile, pressing a kiss to his scarred skin.
"Good."
