Chapter Twenty Routine #3
“I lose myself around you,” I whisper as my hips start to sink. There’s a little resistance, and a tiny gasp of pain when King stiffens faster than either of us expected, giving me a momentary panic as he hardens in me, spreading me with his engorged cock.
“I find myself around you,” King counters. “Maybe that’s why we’re supposed to fit. Interlock.” His pelvis lifts, and I let out a shuddering cry of pain and pleasure. “Easy.”
That’s just the trouble. This is so easy. I could get used to this routine, to this life, to being his.
I’ve already started to want it. If sex were a struggle, maybe it would make him doubt, make him leave.
Or maybe I would.
But it’s easier than I thought to let him lead me to new heights of pleasure, even while he’s the helpless one. I just close my eyes and hold onto his muscular forearms as his hands lock down around my ribcage. “Fuck me,” I breathe out. “Love me.”
My hands mold into her softness, the delectable padding of her flesh rippling out through my clenched hands.
I hope I’m not bruising her. I try to loosen my grip, but then her pussy squeezes on me again, releasing a bend of fighting muscle, letting my cock slide in deeper.
My hands dig in harder, and Ingrid’s hips roll as she sits on her knees.
My perfect beauty. She looks so raw and real, so fierce while she’s letting me take charge of her body. Still, she’s the one who could hurt me with a single push of her leg. We trust each other.
That’s the last coherent, noble thought I have before my cock takes over.
Her walls are in constant spasm, each little flex drawing me in deeper. With a grunt, I lift with her, sinking her deeper on my cock, hungry eyes watching how her legs shake, how her opening is stretched around my thick green rod, making her pale pink folds a deep fuchsia instead.
“Rub your pussy, baby. I’ll do all the work.” I lift and drop, letting her sink and rise on my cock, watching her fall a little farther down each time.
“Such a perfect little mate. Swallowing more and more of me,” I grunt. Ingrid huffs back something in return, eyes glazed over in pleasure, her tunnel tightening as I run out of room. “I want to feel you against my knot,” I growl. “Do you think you can do that?”
“Take it in?” Her voice is dazed and doubtful. High. Her peak is close, I can feel it in the way her hips restlessly struggle to piston against me, even as she’s overwhelmed with the new sensation of being this full.
“No, no. Not tonight. Just want to feel you against it. I want to feel your pussy kissing it, soaking it.” I want my whole length buried in her. That’s enough of a challenge for one night, right? “Rub that pretty pussy while I fuck you. I wanna feel you come,” I urge, starting to increase my tempo.
Ingrid just nods, her voice stolen away by grunts and groans of pleasure as she lets me fill her. Stretch her.
“There’s nothing hotter than watching you take my cock. Unless it’s watching you squirt on it.”
“You’re going to get wet.”
“I’m already wet. You’re going to get wet.
Full of my cum.” I hold her still and watch her head loll back and her breasts bounce as she slides home with a gasp, a choked sound leaving her throat as I bottom out in her, pressed against the hard nub inside, somehow completely buried inside of her thanks to the magical and medicinal properties of knotting tea.
I don’t bother to ask if she’s okay. I’m too busy watching her find what she likes.
Ingrid’s eyes are closed in concentration as she rubs her clit and rolls her hips, remaining seated on me.
When she leans back, I can see how stretched she is, and I’m torn between wanting to see how I’ve marked her when we’re done, watching that pussy leak my essence—and wanting her to stay on me forever, her little shimmies caressing my knot while my whole length is squeezed in her hot, wet paradise.
Don’t know how he fits.
Brain no longer cares.
I know vaginas are stretchy, but I swear that tea is part magic potion and part herbal infusion. Whatever it is... I like it.
So full. So hot. So wet. So everything.
My orgasm has been building and ebbing with the discomfort of stretching and the pleasure of having every inch of my pussy packed full. There’s nothing to compare it to, not even the session with the toy I just had.
King’s hands rub up and down my thighs, then one hand joins mine against my clit.
“So beautiful. So full of me. So beautiful,” I hear him whispering reverently, my eyes still closed, chasing the final burst of pleasure.
“Look at you loving me,” he murmurs, the awe in his voice enough to penetrate the chase for bliss and make me open my eyes.
My sweet King. He’s mine. He called me mate—and I liked it. “You do things to my body and brain that ought to be illegal...but I love them. I love... I love being loved by you,” I admit.
“Good. Because you always will be.” One hand laces with mine on my leg, and I grip it hard, bearing down as the final wave blasts over me.
The noise I make isn’t a word or a scream, just an animalistic burst through clenched teeth, then a long, happy wail as my pussy ripples and grips his cock, and I feel his answering throbs.
“Oh!” King lets out one little gasp, and I feel his release merging with mine, much smaller than it was earlier, still a flood.
He brings me forward to his chest, still staying inside of me. “My Ingrid. My star.”
“My King.” I curl up tight, head on his shoulder.
We should get cleaned up.
Neither of us moves.
“You stay here. Until I slip out of you.”
“But—”
“No buts. It’s good practice for knotting. I’ll be hard inside of you for a long time. Maybe half an hour, give or take. That’s lots of time for you to have more pleasure.”
I want to ask things, say things—but I don’t. I’m thinking about how even when he’s injured, he’s so giving. How he spoils me with himself, and how things that would be too intimate or too “committed” for the men in my past to handle don’t even faze him.
“Are you sore?”
“Tomorrow I will be. Oh, and my period is going to start in the next couple of days, so this... This can’t be routine just yet.”
King nods. “Whatever you like. I wouldn’t mind being with you any day of the month, but I bet it’s uncomfortable.
Don’t worry. We’ll do things like... Eat chocolate and use hot water bottles?
” His voice breaks with a yawn. “I can keep stuff for you at my house. Pads and stuff, so you can still come over.”
I sit up. “First, you buy dog bowls and dog food—and now pads. What are you trying to do, be boyfriend of the year?”
King smiles slowly, but there’s something sad under it.
“That shouldn’t make me boyfriend of the year.
Taking care of your family and having the stuff they’d need under your roof is basic.
And to an Orc, failing to provide for your family is.
.. Ooh. It’s up there with capital offenses.
It makes you less than an Orc, less than a man.
Everyone you’ve ever met and been with should have done this—but I’m glad they didn’t. ”
“So you can be the best boyfriend ever?” I kiss his pectoral and smirk up at him.
“Temporarily.” His hips buck against mine, and our juices make a splashing, squelching noise as ripples of pleasure dance inside of me. “I’m campaigning for the best husband ever, but I have a long way to go.. Don’t worry. I know that.”
For a second, I can’t breathe.
Just afterglow talk. Pillow talk.
I don’t believe that for a second, King means it. He called me family. He called me mate.
I close my eyes and hug him tight as we start again, slow, tender rocking, pleasing each other in a lazy way.
Might not be as long as he thinks.