Chapter 24 #2
Panting, Balar strode from the bonfire to riotous applause, back to where he belonged—Imogen’s side. Smacks of appreciation and good cheer landed on his shoulders, but he hardly felt them.
After some of the orcs had shown off one of their impressive mating dances, Balar and his brothers decided they weren’t to be outdone. With the drums already out, they showed the whole village what a mantii dance could be. Although, in truth, Balar danced only for Imogen.
He loved the way she watched him, the firelight reflected in her eyes. She seemed so entranced that she eventually forgot to clap along with the crowd and the rhythm.
Heart pounding, Balar led his brothers through the movements. They tumbled and roared, Kiri went sailing through the air, they beat the ground with their paws and swept it with their wings. His pulse and breath kept time to the clapping, his tail whipping behind him as they pounced and leapt.
His blood sang hotly through the dance, and when it was done, he downright prowled right for his mate.
Ibás, he needed to calm down. He’d frighten her with his predatory hunger.
But Imogen, his minx of a mate, trailed her fingers down his bare chest, feeling how his skin ran hot and his breath came quickly. “Why don’t you show me your cabin now?” she said.
Balar’s heart kicked in his chest—and his cock with interest behind his kilt.
Kud, was that the best idea?
It didn’t matter, because in the next moment, he was leading her through the shadows to his cabin.
The little home was dark, of course, the fireplace empty and cold. Balar went to light a wick for the lantern but found his paws shaking too badly.
“Here,” Imogen murmured, taking the flint and wick from him. “Are you cold?”
“No.” Plowing his claws through his mane, he admitted, “I didn’t realize having you in my cabin would affect me so.”
Imogen’s soft smile lit up, illuminated by the glow of the lantern. He didn’t need the lantern, the ambient light from the bonfire out in the square was plenty to see her by, but he knew she needed light and didn’t want her stubbing a toe.
Holding the lantern aloft, Imogen turned in a small circle to inspect the cabin.
There wasn’t too much for her to see, honestly; it was a single room, the fireplace on one wall, surrounded by sturdy chairs.
The cot Kiri sometimes used laid bare, his blankets obviously moved to Soren’s cabin.
A rectangular table sat nearly in the center, where Balar did all kinds of work like cooking, hammering, or leatherworking.
His cabin wasn’t as full as her cottage, but he was proud of what did inhabit it. Mostly, the big bed that took up the southwest corner. Square and piled high with pillows, the silken coverlet gleamed in the low light, an invitation to lay down and doze.
Except, Balar had no intention of dozing.
“I like it,” said Imogen. “The timber is excellent. Are you sure you want to move it?”
“Yes,” he said. “Unless you’d prefer to live here?”
Imogen tried to hide her grimace by turning away, but Balar knew her answer anyhow.
Things might change in the future, but, for now, Imogen wished to remain on her land in the forest. Balar was content with that; adding his cabin to her cottage would give them more room, and the path between Dannan and her cottage had already become well-worn.
She wasn’t nearly so isolated as she’d once been.
Balar watched hungrily as Imogen made another turn about the cabin. His heart stuttered in his chest when her gaze fell on him, and her grin grew wider. Ibás, he wasn’t a strong enough male to withstand temptation any longer.
Plucking the lantern from her hand, he purred, “You haven’t inspected the bed yet.”
Imogen laughed and rolled her eyes before walking over to do just that. In her absence, Balar opened the lantern and blew out the flame.
“Um, I’m supposed to be looking at the bed.”
“I wouldn’t want them outside to see.”
“See what—?”
A little gasp filled the darkness as he came up behind her. She had to feel the jut of his excited cock against her backside when he pulled her into him and buried his face in her neck. Balar filled his palms with her generous breasts, squeezing and kneading in time to his pounding pulse.
His purr turned almost violent when she reached back to bury a hand in his mane.
“Was this your plan all along?” she whispered.
“Maybe,” he admitted, licking up the side of her neck to her ear. “A good hunter never lets an opportunity go to waste.”
The cabin wasn’t entirely dark; he had the moonlight and the bonfire to see by as he worked her breasts free of her stays. Flickering squares of blue and orange light played across the backs of his hands from the windowpanes as he toyed with her, plumping her breasts and teasing her nipples.
Imogen began to squirm in his hold. Enket at inan, he adored how sensitive she was.
Over their days and weeks of practice, he’d become a devoted student of her pleasure.
What she liked, what she craved, what made her writhe and moan and shout his name.
His brave kigara might have been shy to begin with, but as she grew more comfortable and confident, there was little they found that she didn’t like.
With every touch, they learned each other. There was little they hadn’t done at this point, and Balar was beyond proud of what a tempting little minx she could be. Little by little, Imogen was becoming used to not only asking for what she wanted but receiving it, too.
He’d used his tongue, his fingers, his thigh, even his tail to bring her to orgasm.
All that was left was his cock. It wasn’t that that had been totally abandoned—Imogen never ceased to surprise him with her quiet determination.
He knew what it was to come in her hand, in her mouth, between her breasts, between her thighs.
He knew what it was to paint her soft skin with his seed, knew the sheen of her slick on his cock.
Tonight, he hoped for the rest. But her little moans and the adorable faces she made were for him alone.
“They’ll know what we’re doing if we don’t come back,” Imogen pointed out, although he was pleased to hear how her voice had already gone breathy.
“Mm, perhaps. If they do, they’ll be burning with jealousy. But your coming apart face is only for me.”
“I do not have a coming apart face,” Imogen nearly choked.
“You do,” he insisted, hand delving into the band of her trou. “And I intend to see it over and over again tonight. I want you, Imogen. In my bed.”
She turned in his arms to face him. For a moment, Balar feared she would tell him she didn’t want to, that she wasn’t ready.
But, as always, his Imogen surprised and delighted him.
Keeping his gaze, she shed her overcoat and began working on the laces of her stays. A greedy purr rattled in his chest as he watched her undress. She didn’t go too slow or quick, just enough to entice him. Layer by layer, she revealed herself to him.
Naked, with her hair unbound, she glowed in the moonlight.
Her nipples grew hard in the cold air, and her skin pebbled. That wouldn’t do.
Without dropping her gaze, Balar unbuckled his belt and unknotted the ties of his kilt. They fell to the floor with a clatter, joined in a moment by his socks. He stood before her naked, only a pace away, and Balar swore he could feel the tether between them tugging taut.
Seeing her there, waiting for him, her lush lips parted just slightly as though in anticipation of his kiss, shifted something inside Balar.
Something intrinsic and vital. He’d known he loved her before, but in this moment, he understood how she was his very heart, the beat of his pulse and flow of his blood.
She herself was vital now, a part of him he couldn’t live without.
And we’ve only just begun.
A purr vibrating in his throat, he closed the distance, catching her round the waist to draw into the curve of his body. She fit there so perfectly, her hands rising to pet his chest as he bent to flip the coverlet and blankets back.
“Will you indulge me, urisá? Seeing you in my bed…” He shivered with the thought.
Imogen didn’t ask or complain. With a small smile on her lips, she climbed into his big bed, coming to rest at the center and easing down onto the mattress. Balar’s purr grew in volume, and the sight of her drew him forward.
Blue squares of moonlight illuminated her, catching on the tips of her nipples and dip of her waist. Falling to his hands before her, he kissed every place the moon did, asserting his claim.
Little moans filled her throat as he kissed and suckled, her hands carding through his thick mane. One of her nails caught along the rounded base of his ear, making him shudder.
Even though his blood had run so hot from the dance, having her here, finally, in his bed, surrounded by his blankets and scent, enabled him to slow down, to savor.
There was no rush. He would have her in all ways, every way, again and again.
She was his to enjoy and pleasure—it would be the honor of his life.
The slow way he kissed her breasts and lapped at her skin, the leisurely way she petted his shoulders and traced his arms—he could only describe it as luxurious. Indulgent. Every scrape of the flat of his tongue, every pass of her palm was to be savored.
She opened her legs for him with a breathy sigh that ruffled his mane.
Balar fit his chest into the vee of space, hands trailing down her flanks to caress her thighs.
Her thick scent drew him down, and Balar devoted himself to lavishing her cunt with the same degree of attention.
Every stroke of his tongue felt decadent, every taste of her richer than the last.