Chapter 9 #2
“We’ll go slow,” I promise, cupping her jaw until she nods, breathless.
Then, when I’m ready to move lower, I don’t ask her to shift. Instead, I simply grip her hips with both hands and lift her, repositioning her exactly where I want her on the bed. The effortless display of strength makes her gasp, and I can smell her fresh spike of arousal.
I trail kisses down her stomach, taking my time, until I reach the lacy edge of her panties. The scent of her arousal is dizzying, pure and wild. I lower my head and catch the edge of her panties with one of my tusks. With a quick, possessive jerk, I tear them in two.
The sound—the rip of lace, the gasp she makes—snaps the last thread of my restraint. Her sharp inhale and the way her hips lift off the bed tell me everything I need to know about how much she likes that possessive claim.
“I love how small you are,” I growl against her stomach. “Love that I can move you anywhere I want, position you any way I need.” My hands are so large on her hips that my fingers nearly meet at her spine, and that makes something primitive in my depths roar with satisfaction.
I linger just long enough to have her trembling, breath hitching on every pass of my tongue—then she widens her thighs, bends her knees, and places the soles of her feet on the mattress.
Her scent is intoxicating now, pure female arousal.
My orc instincts are singing—no, screaming—with the need to claim, to mark, to possess her in every way possible.
“Mine,” I growl against the skin in the lee of her neck, the word torn from somewhere primal and ancient.
“Yes,” she gasps, her hands fisting in my braids. “Yours.”
My hands slide lower, slipping between her thighs. She’s so hot and wet for me. The knowledge makes me growl with possessive satisfaction. When I slip one finger inside her tight heat, then another, she cries out, her hips bucking against my hand.
“So ready for me,” I murmur, working her with steady strokes while my thumb finds the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes her sob with pleasure. “So perfect.”
“Please,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. “I need you inside me. All of you.”
Her plea goes straight to the primitive male inside me.
I lower my head, catching her mouth in a deep, lingering kiss that leaves her trembling.
My tongue teases hers as my fingers keep a slow rhythm between her thighs until she’s panting into my mouth.
Her hips move with mine, desperate, needy.
Every sound she makes vibrates against my lips and straight into my chest.
“You don’t know what that does to me,” I growl against her mouth, sliding my hand free only when she’s trembling with need. Her body follows the motion instinctively, chasing my touch, and the small, broken sound she makes nearly undoes me.
I position myself at her entrance. We both freeze at the contact—the head of my cock pressing against her slick heat. She’s so small compared to me, and the primitive part of my brain roars with satisfaction at the contrast.
“Look at me,” I command softly, waiting until her gaze meets mine. “If it’s too much, if I hurt you, you tell me immediately.”
She nods, her hands gripping my shoulders. “I will. I trust you.”
I push forward slowly, just the tip at first, and her sharp intake of breath makes me freeze. “Okay?”
“It’s… a lot,” she admits breathlessly, then hurries to add, “But don’t stop.”
I work myself into her inch by careful inch, pausing whenever I feel her muscles tense, letting her body adjust to my size.
“That’s it, beautiful,” I murmur, watching her face.
“You’re taking me so well. Look at you, letting me stretch you open.
” She’s incredibly tight, her inner walls gripping me like slick velvet, and the sensation is almost overwhelming.
“Perfect, fierce human,” I growl as I push deeper. “Built to take all of me.”
“God, you’re huge,” she gasps when I’m halfway inside her. “I can feel you everywhere.”
“Too much?” I ask, prepared to withdraw despite the torture it would be.
“No.” Her legs tighten around my waist, urging me deeper. “I can take it. I want all of you.”
When I’m finally fully seated inside her, we both breathe hard. “Fuck,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “You fill me completely.”
“That’s okay?” I ask, holding still despite every instinct screaming at me to move.
“Good. Just… full. So perfectly full.” She shifts slightly, testing the sensation, and we both groan. “You can move now.” When I pause for the slightest moment, she adds, “Please. Move.”
I start slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But she only arches beneath me, meeting every thrust with her own movement, taking everything I have to give.
“Faster,” she demands, her nails raking down my back. “I’m not going to break.”
The desperate edge in her voice undoes me. I give her what she’s asking for, setting a rhythm that has her crying out with every thrust. The sounds she makes—breathless gasps, soft moans, my name falling from her lips like a prayer—drive me toward an edge I’ve never experienced before.
This isn’t just sex. It’s connection—intense and immediate—like our bodies were made to find each other in this exact moment.
“Mine,” I growl against her ear.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Yours. All yours.”
The confirmation sends me spiraling over the edge, taking her with me, and as we shatter together, the world narrows to her heartbeat against mine, the only rhythm I’ll ever need.
We lie tangled together afterward, her head on my chest, my arms wrapped around her smaller frame. A steady calm settles in my chest, quieting everything that usually claws at me.
The intensity of what just happened between us should probably worry me—I’ve never felt anything this consuming, certainly not after knowing someone for one day. But instead of fear, I feel… certainty. As though some part of my soul just clicked into place.
“Forge?” she murmurs against my skin, her voice soft and sated.
“Mmm?”
“I can hear your heartbeat. It’s so strong.”
I tighten my arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough?”
“You were perfect.” She traces lazy patterns on my chest with her fingertip. “I…” She trails off with a contented sigh.
“What?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Never felt so completely claimed.” She nuzzles against my pec.
“Claimed,” I repeat softly, the word feeling right on my tongue. “Is that what this was?”
She’s quiet for so long I think she might have fallen asleep. Then, barely above a whisper: “It felt like more than just sex.”
My chest swells with an emotion so powerful it threatens to overwhelm me. “Good,” I say simply. “It felt that way for me, too.”
She tilts her head up to look at me, her hair mussed, lips swollen from my kisses, and she’s never been more beautiful. “Really?”
“Really.” I cup her face in my palm, thumb stroking across her cheekbone.
“I know it’s fast, I know we just met, but Jordan…
what I feel for you isn’t just physical.
” That probably sounded crazy—we’ve known each other for one full day.
But sometimes the most important things happen fast, don’t they?
Her smile is radiant, vulnerable, and full of trust.
“I feel it too. It’s terrifying, wonderful, and…”
“Perfect?” I finish for her.
“Yes,” she agrees, nestling closer.
I listen as her breathing gradually deepens, feeling the moment she surrenders to sleep in my arms. This woman—this incredible, complicated, beautiful woman—trusts me enough to be completely vulnerable. The responsibility of that trust, the precious gift of it, makes my throat tight with emotion.
For the first time in my life, I understand what the old songs mean when they speak of finding your other half. She fits against me like she was made for this exact spot, like the Goddess herself carved out this space in my arms just for her.
Is this what a soulbond feels like? The elders always said you’d know—that recognition would hit like lightning, that you’d see a shimmer around your mate in the right light. But I always imagined it would happen after months of courtship, not hours.
For just a moment, as I look down at her sleeping face in the moonlight, I could swear I see something. A faint red shimmer, barely visible, like heat rising from summer pavement. I blink, and it’s gone.
Impossible. Soulbonds don’t form this fast. They require time, trust, deep connection, and commitment. This is just the euphoria of great sex with someone I’m wildly attracted to. That’s all.
But the way my entire being wants to claim and protect her… the way every instinct I have is screaming “mine”… that feels like something deeper than chemistry.
I push the thought away. Too soon. Too fast. Too… everything.
Mine, I think drowsily, pressing a kiss to her hair. It feels like fate settling into place.
Whatever this is—soulbond or not—it feels right.