Chapter 13 The Kitchen Table #2
As my tongue explored her folds, Hazel succumbed to the sensation.
Her hips bucked off the table. She tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting.
The bite of pain only spurred me on. This was not a battle, but if it had been, I intended to win it.
To make her feel as treasured and beautiful as she’d always been to me.
Every tiny sound she let out made my cock throb even harder.
Ignoring my own need, I found her clit and sucked gently.
She yelped and almost hit me in the face with her knee.
I bit the inside of her thigh, just a slight nip to remind her of what I truly wanted to give her. “Not yet, Hazel. We’re getting there.”
“You’re such a tease, meathead,” she snapped. If she could still be sarcastic, I clearly wasn’t doing my job right.
I wanted to use my fingers, to stretch her and prepare her for my cock, but my claws made that impossible.
I’d seen what damage they could do when extended, the deep gouges they could leave in training dummies.
The thought of those same claws anywhere near her soft flesh made my stomach twist. So I used only my mouth, my tongue working deeper inside her.
I kept my claw carefully retracted as my thumb found her clit.
She was so tight even around my tongue. The thought of pushing my cock into this slick heat made my vision blur. She wasn’t doing any better. Her thighs began to shake on either side of my head. Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling harder.
“Brok, I’m going to—”
I sucked her clit into my mouth and, just like that, she shattered. She screamed my name, her whole body going rigid as her orgasm crashed through her. I kept working her through it until she collapsed boneless against the table.
Her legs quivered against me. Her chest heaved with each breath. Sweat made her skin gleam in the kitchen lights. She looked wrecked, thoroughly taken apart. Because of me. And I had no intention of stopping now.
I stood up and stripped off my shirt, then my pants and boxer briefs. My cock sprang free, hard and aching. Her eyes widened, her gaze dropping to my erection.
“That’s not going to fit.” She was still shaking on the kitchen table, but her eyes stayed on my cock. Not with fear. With hunger.
“It will.” I pulled her to the very edge of the table by her thighs. My green hands looked huge against her pale skin, and something primal in me loved the contrast. Loved that she could see exactly what I was and still wanted me. “I’ll make it fit. But I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you.”
I gripped my cock and positioned myself at her entrance. She was wet and hot against my sensitive flesh. I pushed in slowly, just the tip at first, letting her body adjust to my size.
She whimpered, but it was a sound of pleasure, not of pain. “More. Please, Brok, I need—”
I pushed in another inch, watching her face carefully for any sign of pain.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp.
She felt incredible around me. I wanted to bury myself to the hilt, to feel her completely surrounding me.
Instead, I held back. Not for my own pleasure. For her.
Another inch. Then another. Her body stretched to accommodate me, her inner walls fluttering around my cock as she adjusted.
When I was finally seated fully inside her, we both groaned in unison.
This was what I had been missing for decades in the human realm.
Not just sex, but connection. The feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be, with exactly who I was supposed to be with.
After today, I knew I’d never be able to give it up.
An orc is inside me.
The thought fluttered into my mind as Brok slowly pushed his way into my body. I’d never felt so full. I clenched around him involuntarily, and he hissed through his teeth. “Hazel. You feel incredible. So tight. So perfect.”
No. Not an orc. A man. A man who wants me. Who is mine.
“Brok… More!”
He started to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. He’d always been good at this, following instructions. But I’d never appreciated it as much as I did now.
Every thrust hit spots inside me I didn’t know existed. I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper. The muscles there felt like steel beneath skin, hard and unyielding. My new shoes creaked in protest at the pressure.
“Faster,” I insisted, raking my nails over his bare chest. “Please, Brok, I need—”
My fingernails left no marks on his skin. I could have very easily been trying to scratch a statue. He caught my wrists, pinning them to the table above my head in one smooth motion. “No. Slow. I want to feel every second of this. And I want you to feel it, too.”
This time, it was my turn to listen to his instructions.
The dominance in his tone made my inner muscles clench around him.
He was massive, strong enough to pin both wrists with one hand while his hips rolled in that maddeningly slow rhythm.
His other palm spread across my stomach, fingers splayed wide.
I squirmed beneath him, trying to increase the friction, but he held me down easily. Instead of feeling trapped, I felt claimed. Like prey caught by a predator choosing gentleness.
“Look at me.” His breath was hot against my face.
My eyes had drifted closed at some point.
I forced them open to find him staring down at me with an intensity that stole my breath.
His green skin gleamed with sweat, tusks prominent, eyes glowing amber.
He looked every inch the warrior from another realm.
Not human. Not even close. But that didn’t change how much I needed him. How much we needed each other.
“I need to watch you come apart,” he said, as if echoing my thoughts. His eyes never left my face, that amber glow intensifying. “Want to see your face when I make you scream again.”
He released my wrists. His calloused palm traveled down my body, rough against my sensitized skin.
His hand dwarfed a human man’s. When he cupped my breast, his fingers covered it completely.
He thumbed my nipple until I whimpered, then moved lower, over the soft curve of my stomach that I had always been self-conscious about.
His thumb found my clit for a second time, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation overwhelmed me. I could feel my orgasm building again, a tight coil of pressure growing tighter low in my belly. “Let go,” he snarled. “Come for me, Hazel.”
The command pushed me over the edge. My orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, every muscle in my body tensing as pleasure radiated outward from my core. I screamed his name, not caring who might hear, completely lost in the sensation of being utterly consumed by him.
He didn’t stop moving, drawing out every wave of pleasure until I collapsed boneless against the table. Only then did his controlled rhythm falter. His thrusts became harder, faster, chasing his own release with single-minded intensity that bordered on desperation. The table shook under us.
He thrust deep one final time and held there, his body going rigid above me. I felt him pulse inside me, filling me with his release. “Hazel…”
Pleasure crackled over my skin, the aftermath of my orgasm still lingering in every nerve ending in my body. But the sound of my name on his lips was somehow more powerful. “Brok…” I whispered back.
It was a simple moment, but one that said more than all the words we could ever speak. He pressed his forehead against mine, and I knew this was forever.
When he finally pulled out of me, we both winced at the loss. He found a clean kitchen towel and cleaned us both up with surprising gentleness. Then he helped me off the table, steadying me when my legs proved less than reliable.
“I should probably put some clothes on,” I said, suddenly becoming aware of my complete nudity. The post-orgasm haze was fading, replaced by the creeping self-consciousness that always followed intimacy.
“Don’t.” His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest. The height difference was absurd, my head barely reaching his sternum. “Not yet. Let me look at you a little longer.”
So I stood there in his arms, naked and thoroughly satisfied, while he simply held me.
My phone buzzed on the counter where I’d left it.
Reality asserting itself in the form of a text notification.
Probably Nana, demanding to know where I’d disappeared to after the gala.
What would she say if she knew? Her granddaughter, naked in the arms of a green-skinned warrior from another realm.
The thought made me want to laugh hysterically. But I’d done enough laughing for the night. Somehow, the utter contentment I felt was stronger than my amusement.
“We still have to deal with the Challenge,” I told Brok, and the words felt heavy on my tongue. “And Reynard. And Isengrim.”
“Not tonight.” His chin rested on top of my head. “Tonight, we just exist here.”
I nodded, more than happy to agree with him.
Tomorrow we would face the consequences of tonight’s revelations.
Tomorrow we would figure out how to navigate the impossible situation we found ourselves in.
I’d have to somehow process the fact that I had fallen for an orc who was the Easter Bunny’s personal trainer.
But tonight, in the warm glow of my kitchen, I’d revel in Brok’s warmth and just be. It was more than enough.
“Stay.” I pressed my face into his chest, feeling the inhuman rumble of his heartbeat. “Stay with me.”
“Where else would I go?” He tightened his hold on me, and I felt so safe it hurt. “I’m not leaving you now. Not ever, Hazel.”
I believed him, and that certainty was sweeter than all the chocolate I could make in my life.