Chapter 8 #2
Garrak curled his fingers deep inside me, hitting a spot behind my clitoris that had me gasping and jerking desperately.
He used his hold on my neck to tip me backwards so he could capture one breast in his mouth as he stroked me from the inside.
The ridges of his tongue scraped against my sensitive nipple, but I couldn’t focus on that when he ground the heel of his palm against my clit.
“Yes,” I moaned. “Oh, God, please.”
I felt him smile, felt his arrogant pleasure at my desperation, as he curled his fingers again and again…and then he caught my nipple in his teeth, and I exploded.
“Garrak!” I wailed, bucking and writhing against him as my orgasm crashed over me. He held his fingers still, allowing me to grind atop them, eking out each microsecond of pleasure.
At long last, I pressed my cheek to his chest, panting, his fingers still inside me. He dropped a kiss to the top of my head.
“Good girl.”
But…I wasn’t, was I? I’d taken my pleasure from him, but Garrak hadn’t received any. I could still feel the thick, hard bar of his erection pressed between his leg and my stomach. Cautiously, I lifted my gaze to his.
Garrak hummed, as if he understood my question. “Not enough?” he crooned as he curled his fingers again, stroking me. “You’re not satisfied?”
“No, I—” I broke off with a gasp as he pressed against my clit, and a fresh wave of arousal swamped me.
“That’s what I thought,” he rumbled. He bent again, his lips to my temple as he stroked me. “You’re going to come again, aren’t you? My obedient cunt likes to be finger-fucked?”
Oh God, each time he said something filthy like that, I belonged to him a little bit more.
“Garrak, I want…”
I couldn’t articulate what I wanted, but I suppose I didn’t have to. As always, Garrak knew. He understood.
Straightening, he used his hold on my hair to gently tip my head back, to meet his bright green gaze. He looked so primal, so feral.
Hunt. Catch. Fuck. Was that really all this was about?
“Please?” I whimpered.
He stroked my pussy again, causing me to shudder, as he studied me thoughtfully. “This isn’t enough for you, sweetheart? You want to come on my cock like a good little slut?”
I couldn’t nod because of his hold on my hair, but my eyes widened in excitement. “Yes,” I whispered eagerly. “Now?”
“Now,” he agreed, and I almost wept with relief as he pulled his fingers from me.
His hands went to my waist, lifting me, placing me on the table.
He swept the chips and cards from the surface, and I scooted backward, giving us plenty of space.
I grasped for him, but he stepped back, reaching for the button of his jeans with one hand while the other…
When he, still holding my gaze hotly, sucked the two fingers which had been inside me into his mouth?
I shuddered. It should have been disgusting, but it wasn’t.
I dropped my own hands to my pussy, rubbing my clitoris frantically, chasing that high, as he pulled out his cock.
Good Lord, the thing was massive. I’d felt it, even seen it stirring before. But now? My mouth went dry in anticipation of being filled with his cock. It was thick and ridged, the same as his tongue, a darker green than his skin.
Yes. I wanted this. I wanted him.
Garrak positioned himself between my legs.
And then paused.
“Hendricks sent you to pay his debt.” His green gaze was intense, pinning me there almost accusingly. “But this isn’t about my pleasure, Stevie.”
I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me. Maybe I could have, had I not been so dazed by the sparks filling my body—this sensation was either the aftereffect of my orgasm, or the next one clawing its way through my body.
So, panting, I assured him. “This isn’t for him—this is for me, Garrak. Please?”
“Are you ready, sweetheart?”
I was squirming beneath him, trying to rock forward so I could slide my own pussy around his cock, but he held himself still. I would’ve thought he was teasing me, except for how serious his expression was as he watched me.
“Please!” I begged again in a whimper, my two fingers playing with my clitoris.
“Begging for it like a good little slut.”
Oh good Christ, when his deep voice rumbled that word and slid into me? I went fucking nuts! Each ridge of his cock stretched me further, but I took him eagerly. Desperately reaching for him.
And then he was fully seated, and to my complete surprise, an orgasm crashed over me.
I arched on the table with a surprised sound, each muscle in my body tensed, every fiber of my being focused between my legs and the waves of rolling pleasure coursing outward.
“My G—” I jerked again, convulsing around his thick cock. “What—what the fuck was that?” I gasped.
Garrak reached down and spread his palm across my stomach, pressing me back into the table. I swear his cock was so big I could feel it pushing up against the heel of his palm as I writhed under his hold.
“That, sweetheart, is orc biology. My cock will give you an immediate orgasm as soon as I’m inside you.”
My eyes had gone wide. “Seriously?”
“It’s to ensure you’re properly lubricated for when I fuck you.”
I hummed teasingly and wriggled a bit. My climax had faded, and now I was feeling pleasantly full. “Mmm, yes please.”
Garrak kept his hand pressed against my stomach, pinning me to the table, as he slowly withdrew. Now that my inner walls were so sensitized, I could feel each and every ridge sliding along them.
Wow.
Orc biology is the best biology.
Garrak’s gaze pinned me as surely as his hold, and I realized he was right; my pussy was already soaked, thanks to my instant-orgasm, and I was more than ready for him to start fucking me. His cock slid completely from me, and I held my breath, anticipatorily.
He thrust in again, slamming his cock all the way against my womb, and another climax exploded over me.
It was so unexpected that I arched my back and screamed wordlessly, writhing beneath his hold.
Oh God. Oh God.
Panting, I slumped against the table as my pleasure slowly faded. My lips were parted, and I could barely comprehend why Garrak wasn’t moving.
Why wasn’t he fucking me?
“Garrak?” I wheezed, one hand wrapping around his thick wrist where he pushed me against the table. “Wha…?”
His eyes flared green. “You liked that?”
“Dear God, yes, but what about—”
I didn’t have time to finish my sentence because he pulled his cock entirely from my pussy, then plunged it back in again. Another orgasm burst over me, and this time my yell was weaker. My muscles were already half-jelly, and I merely bucked beneath him, as if electric shocks ran through my body.
“Garrak,” I whimpered, my head falling back. “I want…”
What did I want? I wanted him to find pleasure?
But he’d said this wasn’t about his pleasure. Was this just for mine?
He withdrew, and I tried to close my legs. I was drained from my fourth orgasm in such a short time. Each inch of my skin tingled, and my muscles felt wobbly.
But he used his hips to hold my knees apart and my legs open. When I realized what he meant to do, I whimpered helplessly…then he thrust into me once more, and the instant-O hit me with a shudder.
I was pinned beneath him, my inner muscles convulsing helplessly and my limbs shaking as he stared down at me.
I watched his ridged tongue flick out to brush against one of his tusks, and for the first time I wondered if it was possible for a male to enjoy a female’s pleasure without coming himself.
He slowly pulled out, each ridge torture, and I scrambled for his forearm. “Garrak—” I wanted to tell him to fuck me, to find his own pleasure, but I couldn’t form words. Couldn’t form thoughts. “Please…”
“Begging for my cock, Stevie?”
“I—” I was near to tears, perhaps, everything blending together. “You—please.”
His cock plunged into me again, and this time I arched again, crying out as the tears did begin to flow down my cheeks with the intensity of my climax.
I think he withdrew and slammed into me again before that one was even done, a seventh—or twentieth—orgasm crashing over me before the last finished.
Sobbing now, I writhed beneath him, exhausted, muddled, unable to breathe.
My whole body felt liquid, as if I’d melted into a puddle of confused tears.
When Garrak’s hips pulled back, and I knew he was going to thrust into me again, I tightened my hold on his wrist and tried to press my knees together.
“Wait!” I sobbed. “Please…” My head shook from side to side as I tried to form thoughts. “I’ve never…”
Don’t get me wrong; each orgasm had felt better than the last, but I was wrecked. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t comprehend what was happening. All I knew was that I needed a moment—it was too much of everything.
To my relief, Garrak had paused, his fingers now caressing my skin, watching me as I tried to gain control of my giant puddle of bodily fluids.
“You liked that, sweetheart?”
It had been amazing. It had been almost too much. I was shaking when he reached for me. “I didn’t think that was possible,” I muttered, shuddering against him. “No guy has ever…”
Wow.
Garrak collected me in his arms, lifting me against him. I snuggled against his chest, my pussy throbbing with overstimulation, and felt his pride. He moved, then sat, and I thought we might have been on the couch, but I couldn’t open my eyes.
I was drained, utterly. Completely drained. Confused. Naked, with each inch of my skin electrified by the male currently cuddling with me.
Garrak pressed a kiss to the crown on my head, and I felt myself sinking into oblivion. I needed to get cleaned up, get dressed, drink some water, for fuck’s sake, to rehydrate.
But for now? I couldn’t even think of moving.
“Stevie?” he murmured, and the most I could do was hum in acknowledgement. His chest rumbled. “You just came on my cock again and again.”
Oh God, I did. I hummed again, snuggling closer. “So good,” I assured him.
“I promise you, sweetheart: your pimp Hendricks doesn’t get to decide who you are anymore. You’re mine.”
Exhaustion was claiming me, but I had to set him straight. I wasn’t a whore, no matter what this had looked like from the beginning.
Garrak’s heart beat beneath my cheek, and the rhythm was intoxicating. I sank into darkness, but just before I did, I made myself speak.
“Hendricks isn’t my pimp. He’s my father.”