Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Forge
Her hands frame my face, and the touch sends a pulse of heat straight through my chest. For a moment we just look at each other, and I can hear her heartbeat quickening, can scent the subtle shift in her pheromones that speaks of desire and decision.
“Forge,” she whispers.
“Are you sure about this?” The husky tone of my voice is new to me.
“So sure.” Her thumb traces along my jaw, dangerously close to the sensitive base of my tusk. “I want you. I want this.”
Before I can second-guess the wisdom of moving so fast, her lips are on mine.
The kiss starts gentle, exploratory, but there’s steel beneath her softness. She’s not asking permission—she’s claiming what she wants. Her tongue teases at my lower lip, and when I open for her, she deepens the kiss with a confidence that stirs something primal in me.
My enhanced senses drown in her—the spike of arousal in her scent, sweet and intoxicating, mixing with her perfume.
An orc can scent his mate’s desire, and it awakens something possessive and hungry inside me.
I hear her heartbeat racing, feel the warmth radiating from her skin. Every sense screams one word: mine.
“Jordan,” I breathe against her mouth.
“Mmm,” she whispers, her hands sliding down to grip my shirt. “I’m taking charge here.”
The authoritative tone sends heat shooting straight to my groin.
This is the woman who dominates courtrooms, who never backs down from a fight, and she’s directing all that focused intensity at me.
Her fingers work at the hem of my Henley with deliberate focus, each brush of her knuckles against my skin making me shiver.
My shirt hits the floor, and her sharp intake of breath makes me suddenly self-conscious. I’m large even by orc standards, and my chest and arms are marked with the traditional tattoos of my clan.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns inked across my pectorals. “God, Forge, you’re absolutely beautiful.”
No one has ever called me beautiful before. Intimidating, yes. Useful, certainly. But beautiful? That word on her lips unearths something tender I didn’t know I’d buried.
I stand, and she has to stretch on her toes to reach me, her small body pressing against mine. The contrast between us has never been more obvious—she barely reaches my chest, her delicate frame making me acutely aware of my own size and strength.
“You’re so small,” I murmur against her lips, my hands spanning her waist.
“And you’re enormous,” she says with a breathless laugh. “But don’t worry, I’m not fragile.”
I slide her zipper down, and the dress puddles at her feet with a whisper.
She’s even more perfect than I imagined—honey-brown hair that catches the light, caramel eyes dark with desire, curves that speak of a woman who’s confident in her own skin.
Her bra and panties are the only things left still covering the tantalizing part of her, a whisper of fabric against my rougher hands.
Her pale complexion creates a striking contrast against my green hands, and I’m fascinated by how delicate she looks despite the steel I know lives in her bones.
“You won’t hurt me,” she says, reading my hesitation. “I trust you.”
Those three words undo me. Sliding my hands beneath her, one arm supporting her back and the other under her knees, I lift her easily.
She weighs almost nothing to me, and yet she feels like everything.
The size difference should terrify me—I could hurt her so easily—but the way she melts into me, trusting me with all that fragility, makes my cock throb with need.
As I carry her down the short hallway to my bedroom, she loops her arms around my neck, her breath warm against my throat. I nudge the door open with my shoulder and cross the threshold slowly, giving us both time to feel the significance of this moment.
We take a moment, just gazing at each other. The desire in her eyes is matched by something deeper, something that makes my orc instincts flair with recognition.
“Forge,” she gasps, her hands tangling in my braids.
I kiss her again, then lick and nuzzle my way down to her collarbone, then lower.
Her skin is so pale against my green hands, so soft and warm.
When I reach the swell of her breasts, I pause, looking at her.
She gives a meaningful nod, and I ease her onto the mattress, her hair spilling across the pillow.
A rumbling starts deep in my chest—the orc purr I can’t control when I’m content or aroused, when I’m claiming what’s mine. The vibration travels through my lips and tongue to her skin as I kiss her belly. Lifting my gaze, I watch her eyes go wide with surprise and then darken with pleasure.
“What—oh my god, what is that?” Her voice is breathless, wondering.
“Can’t help it,” I murmur against her breast. “Happens when I’m… happy. When something feels right.”
I lick and nuzzle my way to her breast. The soft fabric between us muffles nothing—her warmth, her scent, the way her body responds even through the barrier.
My purr intensifies as I mouth her through the fabric, feeling her shiver, until I can’t stand the separation any longer and pull the material down enough to taste her properly.
She arches into my mouth. “Don’t… stop,” she breathes.
Cupping her breasts in my large hands, I marvel at how they fit perfectly in my palms. Her sharp intake of breath when I brush my thumbs over her nipples makes my blood sing. She’s so responsive, I can feel her heartbeat racing beneath my fingertips.
“So beautiful,” I murmur, lowering my head to taste her skin.
When I take one nipple into my mouth, she cries out, her back arching off the bed. I lavish attention on the sensitive peak, using my tongue and teeth until she’s writhing beneath me. The sounds she makes—soft gasps, breathless moans—drive me wild with need.
“God, Forge,” she pants, her hands gripping my shoulders, then roaming, then grasping my braids. “That feels incredible.”
My enhanced hearing picks up every hitch in her breathing, every soft sound of pleasure. I can scent her arousal growing stronger, can feel her pulse racing beneath my lips.
“You taste so good,” I growl against her skin, my hands reverently mapping her curves. “So perfect.”
She responds to everything I do—gasping when I use my teeth, moaning when I soothe with my tongue.
Her hands roam my back and shoulders, nails digging in when I find a particularly sensitive spot.
The way she moves beneath me, completely lost in sensation, makes something primitive and possessive unfurl in my chest.
I move to her other breast, giving it the same devoted attention. When I gently scrape my tusks along the underside of one breast, she nearly lifts off the bed.
“Oh God,” she gasps, her eyes flying open to meet mine. “Do that again.”
I oblige, using the smooth sides of my tusks to trace patterns across her ribs, up the valley between her breasts, along her collarbone.
The contrast between the soft rasp of the bone and the wet heat of my tongue makes her writhe beneath me.
I’m careful—always so careful—but the way she responds tells me she loves this, loves being touched by every part of me, even the parts that mark me as Other.
“They’re so smooth,” she breathes, her hand coming up to trace one reverently.
“I always wondered… oh fuck—” Her words dissolve into a moan as I scrape both tusks along the sides of her throat, just barely grazing the sensitive skin.
Her pulse flutters wildly beneath the bone, and I can feel how much she trusts me not to hurt her even as I drag something that could be dangerous across her most vulnerable places.
I spend long minutes learning her body, savoring the way she responds to every touch, every kiss. Her scent surrounds me, intoxicating and purely hers.
“I love how you respond to me,” I murmur, my voice rough with reverence. “I’m not stopping until I know every sound you make.”
Her cheeks flush, her words breaking apart. “I’ve never… no one’s ever…”
“Never what?” I coax, pressing soft kisses into the valley between her breasts, letting her gather the courage to tell me her deepest secrets.
“Spent so much time… been so focused on…” She’s struggling for words, her brain clearly scrambled by sensation.
“On you?” I supply, understanding dawning. “On your pleasure?”
She nods, her cheeks flushing deeper. “It’s always been so rushed, so focused on the destination instead of…”
“Instead of the journey,” I finish, my chest tightening with tenderness and anger at whoever made her feel that way. “We have all the time in the world, Jordan. I want to learn every inch of you. Taste every hill and valley of this lush body.”
Unable to resist, I slide my hands up her sides, then find the clasp of her bra. One movement, and it comes undone. I peel it away, freeing her completely to my gaze. Her breasts spill into my palms, soft and warm, her nipples already peaked from my earlier teasing. I pause, drinking her in.
Her breath catches. “You’re staring.”
“I can’t help it,” I admit softly. “You’re perfect.”
Color rises in her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away—she arches, offering herself, and the trust in that small motion wrecks me.
I lower my mouth to one, then the other, sucking until her back arches and she cries out my name. When I finally drag my mouth away, I push up onto my knees, my palms braced on either side of her ribs, and take a long, lingering moment to look at her.
She reaches up with shaking hands, her nails catch in the fabric of my pants, and I rise just enough to kick them away, boots and all, until nothing remains between us but skin and heat.
Her eyes widen, awe and nerves mingling. “You’re… massive,” she whispers, voice barely steady.
I can see her throat work as she swallows.
“I’ve never—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head, but the wonder in her eyes makes me harder still.