Chapter 8
Ella
The moment Oren’s hands grip my ass, hauling me off the floor, I know this is going to be insane.
His growl vibrates against my neck, low and predatory, and my breath catches in my throat as he carries me to the bedroom like I’m his treasure.
My legs kick instinctively, but he doesn’t give a damn.
His fingers dig into my thighs hard enough to leave marks, and I freaking love it.
The bedroom door slams shut behind us with a finality that vibrates through my bones, and before I can even blink, his rough hands are on me.
He tosses me onto the bed like I weigh nothing, and I bounce once.
Before I can think to protest, he’s on me, his massive body pinning me down with a growl that rumbles deep in his chest like a predator claiming its prey.
His hands are everywhere, rough and demanding, yanking my clothes off like they’ve personally insulted him.
My shirt? Gone in one sharp tug, the buttons scattering across the room like tiny confetti bombs.
My bra? Ripped clean off, the delicate lace shredding as his fingers glide over my skin with just enough pressure to make me shiver.
And then, he’s tearing through my panties like they’re tissue paper, the delicate fabric disintegrating under his touch.
I gasp, my pussy already soaked and throbbing, aching for him in a way that’s almost embarrassing.
He growls again, low and primal, and I can feel the heat of his breath against my neck as he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear.
His tusks brush the sensitive spot, sending pulses of current shooting down my center and straight to my clit.
“You smell like the sweetest sin,” he rasps, his voice rough and wild, and I can’t help but moan, my hips bucking up instinctively, desperate for friction.
He chuckles darkly, his claws tracing down my body with agonizing slowness, leaving faint red marks in their wake.
My nipples harden under his touch, aching and sensitive, and he doesn’t waste a second before pinching one between his fingers, twisting just enough to make me cry out.
His other hand slides down my stomach, fingers dipping into the slick mess between my thighs, and I swear I nearly fucking combust. “So fucking wet for me already,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with condescension, and I can’t even deny it.
His fingers stroke through my folds, teasing my clit with lazy, deliberate movements that have me arching off the bed, desperate for more. But he’s not done tormenting me yet.
He pulls his hand away, and I whine, my pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for his touch.
But then he’s lifting my leg, hooking it over his shoulder, and leaning down to lick a long, wet stripe from my entrance to my clit.
I scream, my hands fisting in the sheets as his tongue works me over with ruthless precision, fucking me with his mouth in a way that has me seeing stars.
His growls vibrate against my sensitive skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my entire body, and I can feel myself teetering on the edge, my orgasm building with a ferocity that’s almost terrifying.
But he pulls away just before I can come, leaving me whimpering and desperate, my hips bucking up in search of friction. He smirks down at me, his eyes glowing with that predatory gleam, and I know he’s not fucking done with me yet. Not even close.
Oren doesn’t waste time. He’s on me in seconds, his cock already rock-hard and dripping with pre-cum.
He flips me over onto my hands and knees, and I hear the growl in his chest as he kneels behind me.
His hands grab my hips, pulling my ass back toward him, and I moan, my cunt clenching in anticipation.
“You fucking want this?” he growls, his voice thick with lust.
“God, yes,” I whimper, my voice trembling.
He doesn’t ask twice. His cock slams into me with one brutal thrust, and I scream, my nails digging into the sheets.
He’s huge, stretching me wide open, and I can feel every inch of him as he fucks me raw.
His grip tightens on my hips, his claws leaving little crescent moons in my skin, and I love the sting, love the way it reminds me who’s in charge.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he snarls, burying himself to the hilt. My pussy grips him like a vice, hot and wet and desperate for more.
He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming into my ass with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, and I can’t stop moaning, my pussy aching with every stroke. His hands slide up my back, tangling in my hair, and he yanks my head back, forcing me to arch against him.
“Take it,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “Take every fucking inch.”
I do. My pussy clenches around him, my body trembling as he fucks me harder, deeper.
I can feel him everywhere, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust. My moans turn into screams, my body burning with pleasure as he takes me to the edge and pushes me over.
As we come together, the black mark on my chest catches fire, sending electricity flowing down my spine.
My lungs are barely working. There are bruises in places I didn’t know I had. My hair’s a bird’s nest. My insides feel like they’ve been gently melted and then filled back up with honey. And I can’t stop smiling.
We’re both quiet for a long time after. Not awkward-quiet, just…
stunned. Like our bodies got zapped by a power surge and are waiting for the all-clear.
The sheets are ruined, the bed’s askew, and I’m lying flat on my back, one leg draped over Oren’s granite thigh.
He’s on his side, propped up on an elbow, looking at me with this unreadable expression that makes my insides do another, entirely different flip.
The only light comes from the moss patches on the wall and the faint golden glow of our mate marks, his and mine, both still humming with residual magic.
Whenever his skin touches mine, there’s a pleasant little buzz, like the world’s gentlest electric fence reminding us that we’re officially, irrevocably mated for life. I’ve never been happier.
Oren reaches over and traces the mark just below my collarbone. It tingles, then heats, then cools. His touch is so soft I almost don’t feel it. But I do.
He doesn’t say anything, just runs his thumb in slow circles around the fresh tattoo, eyes following the motion like he’s afraid it’ll vanish if he looks away.
His hand is enormous. It covers half my chest. And for once, I don’t care if my breasts are exposed or my hair is a disaster or I have a huge hickey on my neck from his tusks.
He looks at me like I’m the answer to a riddle that’s haunted him forever.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, so quiet I barely catch it.
I shake my head, too lazy to move anything else. “Not at all. I’m one tough chick.”
He snorts, the barest twitch of his lips. “My tough chick.”
I glance down. The mark is still pulsing, but faintly, like an ember refusing to die. I poke at it. The tingling intensifies, then fades back.
I twist on my side so I can see him better.
Our faces are just inches apart. His eyes are less gold now, more dark, and I can see the tiny flecks of green in the whites.
He’s not scowling, for once. The lines in his forehead are relaxed, and the set of his jaw is soft.
He looks, if anything, content. Maybe even peaceful. I bet he’d deny it if I pointed it out.
His hand slides from my collarbone up to my face. He palms my cheek and gently tucks a strand of sweat-plastered hair behind my ear. Then his thumb follows the line of my jaw, lingering just under my chin. I’m not used to being handled so gently, but with Oren, it feels… right.
I close my eyes and soak it in. I’m so tired, and so happy, I could just melt into the mattress and become a permanent fixture here. I open them again and find him staring, not away, but directly at me.
“What?” I whisper.
He just shakes his head. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. I didn’t even know myself until you nearly plowed me over with the baby stroller.”
The words hang in the air, soft but heavy. I can’t believe the big, grumpy Orc is teasing me.
“You were in my way,” I return before turning serious. “I didn’t know it until I met you. But now—” I pause, because there is an unexpected lump in my throat. “Now I don’t want to go back to before.”
His arm comes around me, sweeping me tight to his chest. I curl into him, pillowing my cheek against the warm, hard muscle. He holds me like I’m a treasure, or maybe a shield. Either way, I feel indestructible.
He buries his nose in my hair, breathes deeply, and lets out a sound that’s not quite a purr and not quite a growl—a rumble from the core of him, vibrating through his chest and into mine. I shiver, but it’s not from cold.
“I will never let anything hurt you,” he says, barely above a whisper, but the promise in his words is absolute. “You’re mine.”
It should sound possessive. It is. But I love it. I want to belong to someone so much it aches. I want to be held like this forever. I want to fall asleep safe and wake up knowing someone’s got my back.
I slide my hand up his chest, feeling the slick heat of his skin and the hard slab of his pec.
He’s so much bigger than me—twice my width, maybe three times my mass—but he holds me like I’m made of glass.
My fingers trace the blackened edge of the mate mark on his skin, right above his heart.
He doesn’t flinch, but he looks down, watching my hand with this goofy, amazed half-smile I’ve never seen on him before.
I trace the outline of the mark, then splay my palm flat over it. The heat pulses, and I swear I feel his heart jump in response. He covers my hand with his, pressing it closer. I don’t think I could move away if I tried. Not that I want to.
“I love you, little warrior.” I’ve never heard those three words from anyone in my life. My heart turns to mush as he tilts my face up to his and brushes his lips across my forehead.
My heart melts as the mate mark flares up. “I love you, too.”
“Just so you know, Orcs mate for life,” he says. “There’s no going back. If you leave, I will track you down and drag you back here and remind you exactly whose mate you are.”
“How could I ever leave the only home I’ve ever known,” I murmur, but it comes out slurred with happiness.
“I’ll make sure you never regret it.” He shifts behind me, settling me even tighter against his side, and drapes a heavy arm over my waist. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, warm and steady, and his hand splayed across my stomach, just below the mark.
He tucks the sheets up under my chin, like he’s afraid I’ll catch a chill.
Then he just holds me, not moving, not talking, just existing with me in the perfect, silent dark.
I let myself drift, knowing he’ll be here when I wake up. He’s my fortress, my shield, my mate. I feel safe. I feel wanted. For the first time since I left the city, for the first time in my life, I belong somewhere.
I belong to him.
As I slip under, I hear one last rumble from Oren—a sound of pure, unfiltered satisfaction. I smile because I know exactly how he feels.