CHAPTER 42
Emma
Running my tongue down his jaw, I moaned as he rocked his hips, his cock pressed against my sopping pussy. Realizing what he’d done, he stilled, but I nipped at his skin, my own hips taking up the challenge he’d dropped.
Holding onto his shoulders, I rode him with our clothes on, rubbing every inch of his cock with my slick panties. “Can I touch you?” he whispered, and I nodded.
Yes, to what? I’m not sure. Yes, you’re Krusk. Yes, everything you do to me is okay. Yes, please touch me before I melt into the bed.
“You smell so fucking good, Zemar,” he purred against my ear, running his palms over my ass again, but firmer. With intent.
Thank the Gods for his shoulders to hold on to, because my knees were about to give out. They were weak with the rasp of his voice and his stubble on my skin. Abrading it.
Gods, I hope he leaves marks. All over me.
I wanted everyone to know I belonged to him. Even if I hadn’t told a single other soul. I wanted them all to look at us and know.
And thank the Gods for his hands, too. One of them slid under my shirt. I’d never, ever considered myself to be dainty in any way, but it somehow manages to cover my entire torso, and his thumb... it’s brushing against the underside of my breast and—Oh.
He licked the pulse in the hollow of my throat, and I hear myself whimper. It’s as if the pleasure is making me hyper aware of every inch of my skin.
“So fucking soft, too,” he groaned, the rumble of his voice vibrating against my skin.
His breath was hot in my ear, and I shivered.
“I dreamed you would be. When I was all alone on Hellplane, I’d hoped and prayed for you.
To be soft, but strong. The Gods couldn’t have crafted a more perfect female for me than if I’d done it myself.
” His words were a gruff admission, but they were the balm I needed to any self-conscious part of me.
I was perfect to him. Me.
He released me for a fraction of a second and every single cell inside my body revolted at that fact.
No, please stay!
But he was just adjusting me. His hand pressed on my lower stomach, angling my hips until they were angled backward while I heard a zipper. The sound was louder than our raspy breaths in the otherwise quiet bedroom.
Then his hand goes to my lower back, angling me forward. The snap of cloth against my skin made me hiss but it was nothing compared to the sensation of skin against skin. Wet, hot and perfect.
Air rushed out of my lungs in a sharp breath.
“Okay?” he asked, soft yet deafening in the silence, and I nodded urgently. I gripped his shoulders again, wanting—no needing—to grind against something. Anything. But preferably his thick cock.
He slid his hand down to my ass again, cupping it, but under my skirt now. Angling his finger just right, he slid a finger under my panties and parted my folds. One single finger. And usually with this little foreplay, I wouldn’t be wet at all.
But just his voice made me leak for him. I could feel how wet I was for him. I could hear how wet I was. The slick slide of skin against skin. My own body already ready to come.
“You can’t imagine the things I’ve thought about doing to you,” he groaned against my ear, and I panted out a response because I could barely breath.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
“Later,” he promised, fully focused on me. “When I can act out every single fucking one of them.”
Just when I thought he couldn’t get any hotter, he says something like that.
And I wanted to respond to him. I wanted to tell him everything that I’d imagined too, but I could barely remember my own name.
“Off,” he demanded, and I nodded, but he just yanked my panties harder, the seams ripping before he tossed it across the room. “Good girl,” he purred. And I gasped.
Did he just say that? To me?
But I couldn’t ask him to repeat himself, because he was clearly quite a bit distracted with everything happening under his palms. His hand moved along my inner thigh, his long, thick fingers gripping the soft skin of my ass again now that it was bare.
He was softly biting into the flesh of my shoulder while his fingers dug into me and I wondered almost deliriously if he would bite into my ass like that later. As if it was a piece of ripe fruit. He touched me as though he already knew my body for years.
He growled down at my breasts, making me smile, before—in a flash—my shirt and bra are ripped off as well. I scowled, wondering if I should admonish him for damaging the clothes that I’d scrimped and saved to buy.
In the next heartbeat, he tugged me down again, our chests pressed against each other. His fully dressed and mine deliciously bare. One of his hands tightened sweetly around my hip and I decide that I could forgive him for his aggression to my clothing if this was the reward.
Between my thighs, I felt something being adjusted, and I frowned until my mouth popped open in surprise. This fully clothed orc had unclothed only his cock, pressing the huge head against my pussy.
“Okay?” he asked again, reassuring us both with his question, because I’d never done something like this. Laid myself bare in front of a male while he was still fully covered. Except for the part of him that he needed to get the job done.
It’s so fucking hot.
I nodded, not able to answer him. Then suddenly, there was friction and my vision was blurred around the edges.
He’s inside me.
Barely. Just the tip, really. But he was also enormous and there wasn’t any room in this position. It was so relentless, magnificent and lovely.
So fucking deep.
“Fuck, Emma,” he groaned against my throat, his voice so hoarse I could barely understand him. “How do you feel tighter today? This is unreal.”
There was a rush of harsh breathing, before he murmured, “Just a little more.”
I pressed my forehead to his, our breaths mingling and mixing, heat building between us as I clenched and released around him. He rocked my hips up and down, guiding me. Helping me. But when I bottomed out, it was just this side of too much.
It would have been too much but Krusk was holding on to me like letting go of me would kill him. His fingers were unsteady as he pushed my hair away from my shoulder. But my body seemed to be into it, spaces that only he could fill stuffed full, fluttering around his cock.
“I can’t think when you’re near me.” His voice was rough. He’s frozen inside of me, as though he wasn’t in any rush to start moving. Not when he could stay inside of me the way we were.
I clutched at his shoulders and back, feeling him vibrate with tension. He had so much control all the time, but he was tethered right on the edge of losing it.
When the heel of his palm slid down to rest against my clit, I moaned, kissing him deep and sloppy.
Fuck, I’m so close!
“And I can’t think when you’re not near me. It’s like an unsolvable puzzle,” he groaned.
“The solution is to fuck me every chance that you get,” I breathe against his lips and his chuckle is both startled and amused. He still didn’t move, his splayed hands touching me everywhere. I was overstimulated and he wasn’t even rubbing my clit yet.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “You’re exactly fucking right.”
And with those words, my mind went completely blank. The world receded and I started coming without any warning, arching against him and biting at his lip and jaw to smother the scream.
Pleasure erupted inside me and I was helpless to stop it. I didn’t know how much time passed before I was back to myself, his breathing sharp in my ear.
“Did you just...” He sounded like he was in pain. “Did you just come from my cock being inside you?” The awe was there too.
I was dazed. I wasn’t sure if I could speak. My nerve endings were still tingling. I closed my eyes tight, nodding—a little embarrassed—just as his teeth closed around the part of my shoulder he loved. The part that he loved to lave and nip at.
He grunted like an animal, like he was desperate to keep whatever control he could.
“I need to fuck you so bad. Can I?” His tone was unlike anything I’d ever heard from him. Pleading. Almost begging. Raw.
He was still twitching inside of me, even as with my orgasm, I don’t feel like he’s too big anymore. Perfect. Just right instead. Every few seconds or so he seemed to lose whatever grip he had on himself and rolled his hips.
It didn’t help my focus. Or his focus. Our focus?
“I want to mark you,” he growled against my skin. I frowned, confused.
“Like a bruise?” I asked, my eyebrows swinging up. I wasn’t sure how into pain I actually was. But then again, when it came to Krusk, apparently I was into a lot of things I didn’t know I was.