Chapter 2 #2
His mouth followed his hands as he bent, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the swell of my breasts, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin.
When he finally pulled the lace aside and took my nipple into his mouth, I cried out, my fingers tangling in his hair.
His tongue—God, his tongue!—was made for this.
The ridges dragged against the sensitive peak, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me, and when he sucked, I whimpered, my thighs pressing together.
“That’s it, Kitten,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot. “Let me hear you.”
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his free hand sliding down to grip my hip, his fingers inching beneath the waistband of my dress. I was dripping with need, my panties soaked through, and when his fingers found the edge of them, I shuddered.
“Brakkor—”
“Shh.” His mouth trailed up my sternum, his tusks scraping lightly against my collarbone as his fingers hooked into the lace and tugged. The sound of fabric tearing as he pulled off the bra was obscene, and I should’ve been shocked, but I wasn’t.
I was free, and my heart was thundering against my ribcage in anticipation.
The dress followed, slipping down my legs until I was standing in nothing but my ruined panties. Brakkor stepped back, his gaze raking over me, and I forced myself not to cover myself. Not to hide.
“A fucking work of art,” he murmured, his voice rough with awe. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
I swallowed, my heart pounding. “Then what are you waiting for?”
His eyes flashed, and with a growl, he scooped me up and tossed me onto the bed.
I bounced against the mattress, gasping, but before I could even catch my breath, he was over me, his big body caging me in.
He was still fully dressed—jeans, boots, that damn shirt that smelled like leather and something darkly spiced—and the contrast of his clothes against my naked skin made me even more aware of my own sensuality.
His mouth found mine again, his kiss desperate enough to be almost bruising, before trailing down my throat, my collarbone, the valley between my breasts. His hands were everywhere—cupping, squeezing, owning—and when his lips closed around my nipple again, I arched off the bed with a cry.
“So responsive,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “I love that.”
His free hand slid down my stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I was soaked, and when he groaned, I caught my breath, torn between arousal and shame.
“Fuck, Kitten,” he rasped. “You’re still dripping for me.”
His fingers slid lower, parting my folds, and I gasped as he found my clit. He knew, somehow, exactly what I liked, circling the sensitive nub with just the right pressure, his callused fingers rough against my slick flesh.
Then he slid a finger—two fingers inside me, stretching me, causing me to moan in need. “Brakkor—!”
“So tight,” he growled, his mouth moving to my other breast, his tongue flicking over my nipple as his fingers curled inside me. “Gods, you’re ready to come already, aren’t you?”
I could do nothing more than whimper in agreement, because, yeah. I was already close, my body wound tight, my hips rocking against his hand.
And then—oh God—he curled his fingers inside me, pressing against that spot, the one that made my vision white out, and I came with a surprised gasp, my back bowing off the bed.
Pleasure crashed over me in waves, my pussy clenching around his fingers, my nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t stop, his fingers stroking me through it, drawing out every last shuddering pulse of my orgasm.
When I finally blinked back to reality, my cheeks burned with embarrassment. He was still looming over me, fully clothed, his fingers buried inside me, his dark eyes locked on my face.
“I—I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice shaky.
His brows furrowed. “For what, Kitten?”
My face flushed hotter. “For coming without you—”
His expression shifted to something between amusement and disbelief. “That’s the whole point, Joss.”
His fingers slid out of me, glistening with my arousal, and before I could react, he brought them to his mouth and licked them with a satisfied sound.
I stared, mortified and ridiculously turned on.
“Godsdamn,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You taste even better than you smell.”
When he opened them again, his gaze was feral.
He sat up, his hands going to the hem of his shirt, and I watched, mesmerized, as he peeled it off, revealing a chest covered in intricate tattoos and one pierced nipple. My mouth watered.
I reached for him, but he caught my wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside before guiding my hand to the bed. “Not yet, Kitten.”
Before I could protest, he was settling between my legs, his broad shoulders pushing my thighs apart. I froze.
“Brakkor, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” His voice was a dark promise, his breath hot against my inner thigh. “Fuck, Joss, you have no idea how much I want to. How much I’ve wanted to taste you, since—”
He bit off his words and lowered his mouth to me with a groan, and I stopped protesting. Stopped breathing. Stopped thinking.
Brakkor’s tongue was everywhere—wide and ridged, dragging through my folds, flicking against my clit, pressing inside me.
He feasted, groaning against me like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.
His fingers joined in, stroking, curling, teasing me, and when he growled, the vibration sent another wave of pleasure crashing through me.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmured, and when he turned his head, his tusks scraped along my inner thigh. “So sweet. I could eat this pretty cunt all night.”
I whimpered, my hands flying to his hair, my hips rocking against his mouth. I should’ve been embarrassed. I should’ve been mortified by how eagerly I was riding his face, by the wet, obscene sounds filling the room.
But I wasn’t. Because he wanted this. Because he was enjoying it, his growls of approval sending shivers down my spine.
When his fingers curled inside me again, pressing against that spot, I came unexpectedly with a cry, my back arching, my thighs trembling around his head. He didn’t let up, his tongue lashing my clitoris and my cleft, as I rode out the orgasm, my fingers tangled in his hair.
“Brakkor— Please—”
He chuckled darkly. “Not done with you yet, Kitten.”
And then he was licking me again, his tongue dragging through my folds, his fingers stroking, stroking—
“I can’t!” I gasped, my body oversensitive, my hips twisting away from him. “I don’t want—this is too… Oh God, please, Brakkor!”
He finally lifted his head, his lips glistening, his dark eyes locked on mine. “And what do you want, Joss? Tell me.” His voice was rough with approval. “I like that in a female.”
I swallowed, my cheeks burning. “You.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I want—”
“My cock, Kitten?” He sat up, his hands going to his belt, his gaze never leaving mine. “You want my monster cock to fuck your wet cunt?”
I should’ve been shocked. I should’ve been offended. But it was a night of firsts, a night of Jocelyn reclaiming herself. And the way he’d said it—like he was proud of me for asking—made me bold.
“Yes,” I breathed. “I want that.”
His grin was wicked as he kicked off his jeans and boxers, his cock springing free.
I stared. He was huge—thick and ridged, the head already glistening with pre-cum—and for a moment, panic flared.
But then he was lying back on the bed, pulling me over him, his hands guiding my legs to straddle his hips.
“Here you go, Kitten,” he murmured, his cock probing at my ass. “Use my cock like the good little girl I know you are.”
I bit my lip, my hands pressing against his tattooed chest as I reached behind me and grasped his cock. He made a noise that might’ve been a strangled groan, but his gaze never left mine. Approving. Trusting.
I positioned him at my weeping entrance and slowly rocked backward, sinking onto him. The first ridge stretched me deliciously, and I gasped.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands gripping my hips. “You wanted orc cock? Take it as hard as you can.”
I felt…empowered. As wicked as he was. Holding his gaze, I rocked against him, taking another inch, then another, my breath coming in short gasps.
For each inch I lost, rocking forward, I gained two when I slid back.
Brakkor’s cock was nothing like a human’s—the ridges dragged against my walls, hitting every sensitive spot, teasing my core, making my mouth water from the pleasure.
My gaze focused on the tattoos between my fingers—intricate black swirls against green skin—as my hair tumbled down around my shoulders to brush against his chest, and I took more of this male’s thick, ridged cock.
Then, as soon as I was fully seated, another orgasm burst over me, as I knew it would.
I threw back my head and came with a loud gasp, rocking my hips against him.
This was the part of sex with an orc I had been most looking forward to; some kind of biological trick their species had developed to make fucking easier. Better. I loved it.
When my third climax began to fade, and I blinked back into focus, Brakkor was staring up at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
His dark eyes burned, his tusks glinting in the soft light as he held himself still inside me, his fingertips digging into my thighs hard enough that I wondered if I might bruise—and knew that if I did, I’d wear them as badges of honor.
The sight of him—all that green muscle and ink, his chest heaving, his cock throbbing deep inside me—sent another shiver through my oversensitive body.
I grinned, shy and a little giddy, and something in his expression shifted. His nostrils flared, his grip on my thighs spasming before one hand shot up to tangle in my hair. The sharp tug made me gasp as he yanked me down, crashing our lips together.
The kiss was filthy; his tongue swept into my mouth, and I tasted myself on his lips, his growl teasing my tongue. I moaned into him, my hands splaying against his chest, feeling the way his heart hammered beneath my palms.
Then his hips rolled upward, driving his cock deeper, and I broke the kiss with a whimper.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice rough. “You feel so good, Joss. So fucking tight.”
His fingers stayed twisted in my hair as his other hand slid up to my breasts, his thumb brushing over my nipple, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. I rocked against him experimentally, testing the angle, and his cock dragged against that perfect spot inside me. My breath hitched.
“There,” I gasped. “Right—oh God, right there.”
His grin was wicked. “Yeah, Kitten? You like that?”
I nodded frantically, my fingers curling into his chest as he did it again, his ridges hitting me just right. My nails scraped his skin, and he groaned, his hips picking up speed.
“This time when you come,” he rasped, his hand moving to my waist, guiding me, “you’re going to scream my name. You understand?”
I whimpered, my body already winding tight again. A fourth orgasm? Was such a thing possible?
“I—I don’t know if I can—”
“You can,” he growled, his thrusts growing harder, more insistent. “You will. Because I’m going to make you.”
His words sent a thrill through me, and I realized I wanted to.
I wanted to be loud, wanted to be uninhibited, wanted to take up space in a way I never had before.
His hand slid up to my breast again, his fingers rolling my nipple just hard enough to make me gasp, and when he tugged them, pleasure arced through me.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark with approval. “Let me hear you, Joss. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”
I moaned, my head tipping back as his cock thrust up into me, each ridge dragging against my walls, his balls slapping against my ass.
The sounds—wet, obscene, primal—filled the room, and I realized I was making them. I was the one panting, the one whimpering, the one riding him with abandon.
“Brakkor—” His name fell from my lips in a breathless plea, and his growl of approval sent another wave of heat through me.
“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, his fingers digging in as he drove up into me harder. “Say it again.”
“Brakkor!” I cried, my body tightening, my orgasm coiled just out of reach.
“Good girl,” he rasped. “Now scream it.”
His hand slid between us, his palm pressing against my clit, and the pressure—exactly where I needed it—sent me spiraling.
“Oh God—” My voice broke as his fingers circled, his cock slamming up into me, his ridges hitting that spot over and over. “Brakkor, I’m—”
“Now, Joss,” he commanded, his voice rough. “Come for me now.”
And I did.
My back arched, my nails raking down his chest as pleasure crashed over me, my pussy clenching around his cock. A scream tore from my throat—his name, just like he’d demanded—and he groaned, his hips stuttering as I rode out the waves of my climax.
“Fuck, Kitten,” he growled, his fingers still working my clit, prolonging it, drawing it out. “You’re so fucking perfect. I’m going to come, Joss. Godsdamn, that delicious little cunt of yours is so perfect, I’m going to fill it up.”
“Yes,” I gasped, my body still trembling. “Please—”
His cock swelled inside me, and with a final, deep thrust, he groaned, his release pulsing into me. I could feel it—hot and thick, filling me in a way I’d never experienced before. His hands gripped my hips, holding me down as he came, his breath ragged against my skin.
“Fuck,” he panted, his chest heaving beneath me. “Fuck, Joss.”
I collapsed against him, my forehead pressing to his shoulder as I tried to catch my breath. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, his cock still twitching inside me.
For a long moment, we just lay there, my body boneless, my mind blissfully empty. Then his fingers traced lazy patterns up and down my back, and I shivered.
“You okay, Kitten?” His voice was rough, but soft.
I nodded against his shoulder, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Yeah. That was…”
“Good?” He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through us both.
“Better than good,” I admitted, lifting my head to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were warm, his expression satisfied, and something in my chest squeezed.
He grinned, his tusks glinting. “Just wait until round two.”
I laughed, my cheeks heating, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I pressed a kiss to his shoulder, tasting salt and sweat and him.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to hide.