Page 62 of The Orc's Protection
Her hands slide down to my shoulders, gripping me hard. “How it would feel to have all of you. To know what you were holding back. To—” She breaks off, suddenly shy.
“To what?” I prompt, lifting my head to look at her. “Tell me.”
She meets my eyes, her own dark with desire. “To have you inside me. To know what it’s like when you—”
I cut off her words with another kiss, this one harder, more demanding. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, claiming the space, and she responds with enthusiasm that makes my cock strain against my pants.
Eight years of restraint. Months of wanting. All of it condensed into this single moment where nothing stands between us except choice.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, pressing against mine with each inhale, and I can feel the hard tips of her nipples, a clear sign of her desire.
I force myself to step back slightly, to give her room, and immediately miss the contact. But this matters. What comes next matters more than any kiss.
Our gazes meet. Her pupils are dilated, her lips parted, and she regards me with such clear intent that something catches hard in my throat.
“Are you certain?” The words come out so rough you’d think I’ve been screaming all day.
Her answer is immediate. “Yes.” Then, softer, her hand coming up to cup my face. “In some ways this courtship has been fast,Vraag. But I’ve had the privilege of watching you closely. I’ve seen you at work and with your clan. I know you, Vraag. I know your heart. I know your goodness. And I know what I want, without a doubt.”
Something releases in me—not urgency, but permission. Permission to stop performing restraint. To touch her the way I’ve imagined in the dark hours of early morning. To show her what it means when an orc binds himself to the woman he loves.
I lift her easily, my hands spanning her waist, and she makes a startled sound that becomes a laugh as she wraps her legs around me. Her weight is nothing—I could hold her like this for hours. The simple trust of it, the way she clings to my shoulders without fear, tightens something behind my ribs.
“Bedroom,” I tell her, already moving.
“So commanding,” she teases, her breath warm against my neck.
“You have no idea.” The words slip out before I can consider them, honest in a way I haven’t allowed myself to be.
I feel her shiver against me, and when I glance down, her eyes are bright with anticipation rather than fear.
The bedroom is warm and quiet. I set her down beside the bed, steadying her when her legs wobble slightly. My hands go to the hem of her dress, fingers brushing the soft skin of her thighs as I gather the fabric.
“Arms up,” I murmur.
She raises her arms without hesitation, and I pull the dress over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. For a moment, I just look.
She stands before me in simple black underwear, her skin pale and smooth, her breathing quick and shallow. I’m acutely aware of the contrast—her delicate human frame against my larger, heavier one. The way my hands, when I reach for her, could span her entire ribcage.
“You’re staring,” she says, but there’s no self-consciousness in it. Just curiosity.
“Last time I stopped before I could claim you fully.” I trace the curve of her shoulder with one finger, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch. “Tonight I don’t want to stop.”
“Good.” She holds my gaze, steady and certain.
“You’re beautiful.” I reach behind her, finding the clasp of her bra. “May I?”
“You’re asking permission now?” There’s amusement in her voice. “After carrying me in here like I weigh nothing?”
“Yes,” I say seriously, even as my fingers work the clasp open. “Every step. You can stop this whenever you want.”
The bra falls away, and I cup her breasts in my palms, feeling their weight, the softness of her skin. My hands are so large they eclipse her breasts completely, and I’m careful—so careful—as my thumbs brush over her nipples.
She gasps, her back arching into my touch. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t. I explore her slowly, relearning the weight and shape of her, watching her face confirm what I already know gives her pleasure. When I roll her nipples between my fingers—gentle pressure, then slightly firmer—she makes that sound again, the one that goes straight to my cock.
“Oh, you like it even harder than I thought,” I observe, filing the information away.
