Chapter 10 #2
His fingers slid into me—one, two—twisting, stretching me, as his tongue focused on my clitoris, the wide tip driving me mad.
The ridges on his tongue were good, aye, but I wanted more. I wanted his cock.
A third finger slid into me, the stretch almost burning, but I knew he was preparing me for what I desperately needed, and I continued to rock against his fingers.
“That’s it, my wee wildcat,” he murmured against my skin in between laps. “My strong Mate. Ye taste so godsdamn good, love. I could lick ye forever.”
“I am not going to last forever,” I gasped, holding onto the top of his head. “Please, Vrogul?”
“Aye,” he drawled, before sliding his tongue along my swollen cunny. “Be a good captive and come for me now.”
With that, he closed his lips around my clitoris, and the sensation was so sudden, I gasped and bucked against him as my pleasure slammed into me.
“Vrogul!” I cried, the sound ripped from my lips by the north wind which blew up at that moment and whipped my hair around me. He anchored my hips in place as my body spasmed against his fingers and mouth, pleasure crashing over me again and again.
It seemed to go on forever, but eventually I could look down at him, kneeling reverently at my feet as he withdrew his fingers, and I traced the line of his jaw, his cheeks, in benediction.
Thank you didn’t seem enough.
Not for that life-changing moment.
But still, I wanted more.
I cupped his cheeks, bending down to press a kiss to his lips, and smiled when I tasted my own desire on them.
“Rowena, I’m leaving in two days for the mainland. I need to face Callor.”
My breath caught, and it had naught to do with the way the wind now whipped around me.
“To break your oath of loyalty? Because of what I said?”
He gently cupped my hands against his cheeks.
“Ye were right, love. Ye are the perfect chief’s Mate. ‘Tis an orcish tradition for a chief to claim his Mate in front of his people, so they ken she will breed the next chief, but the Islay Battleborn are no’ like that, since my father didnae think of himself as chief.”
I was too busy thinking of his mission—thinking he could very well die because of what I’d said to him, and wishing I’d kept my mouth shut—to really understand what he was telling me.
“I…do not understand,” I managed, with a shake of my head.
Because in that moment, hearing him say that he was going to make an enemy of a powerful laird, and could very well die, I realized I did love him.
My Mate.
Still, he smiled beneath my palms.
“I want ye, Rowena. Afore I leave, I want to claim ye. Here and now. If ye say nay, that ye’re no’ ready, then I’ll leave without this, but—”
I silenced him with a kiss, bending at my waist to claim him.
“Aye,” I whispered against his mouth. “Please. I have wanted you for days, Vrogul. Make me yours.”
His eyes flared green with victory, and in one movement, he’d stood and scooped me up, marching me toward a hollow in the boulders as he kissed me, his teeth tugging at my lower lip, whispering harsh words of praise and endearments.
When he knelt and laid me down, I realized we were protected from the wind but still had a hell of a view of the water. There were the remains of a campfire, a stack of dried peat, and a bed of dried grasses.
Vrogul removed his kilt, spreading it over the grasses, kicked off his boots, then reached for me.
I went willingly, reaching for his ridged cock, thrilled to be seeing it for the first time.
I stroked it—stroked him—marveling at the girth and length.
Just knowing what was to come sent another wave of moist desire to my core.
He lay back on the kilt, his eyes glowing as he pulled me down atop him.
I straddled his hips, my knees on either side of his body, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.
His hands immediately began to roam, sliding up my thighs, over my hips, along my waist. Each touch left trails of sensation in its wake, sparks that made my breath catch.
His palms were rough, callused from years of wielding weapons, and the contrast against my softer skin made everything more intense. He cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peaked, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
I gasped, arching into his touch.
“So responsive,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. “Every touch makes ye shiver, wildcat. I love watching ye react to me.”
His hands continued their exploration, sliding down my sides, tracing the curve of my waist, then back up to my shoulders.
He pulled me down, bringing my face close to his, and I was the one to finish the movement, to meet his lips.
His tongue slid against mine as one hand tangled in my long braid, tugging gently to tilt my head back.
When I broke the kiss with a gasp, his mouth moved to my throat. He dragged his tongue along the column of my neck, his tusks scraping lightly against the sensitive skin. I shuddered, my hands bracing on his broad chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms.
Knowing him.
“Mine,” he growled against my skin. “Ye’re mine, Rowena, and I’m yers. My Mate, my wildcat.”
His mouth found that spot just beneath my ear—the one that made my toes curl—and he nibbled, his tusks grazing the tender flesh. I moaned, my hips rocking forward instinctively, seeking friction. The movement pressed my wet cunny against his stomach and he groaned in response.
“That’s it, love. Show me how much ye want this. How much ye want me. Is it as much as I need ye?”
One of his hands slid down between my legs, his fingers stroking through my already-swollen folds. I was soaked, my arousal coating his fingers as he explored me. He circled my clitoris with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp.
“Fook, ye’re so wet for me,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect. So ready. Ye respond to me like ye were made for this, made for me.”
His fingers slid inside me, two thick digits stretching me, preparing me. He curled them slowly, hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids. His thumb continued to work my clitoris and I could feel another climax building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.
“Please,” I whimpered, my nails digging into his chest. “Vrogul, I need you. I need your cock.”
“Aye, wildcat. Ye’ll have it. Take what ye need.”
He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving mine. The filthy sight made my cunny clench with need.
I braced my hands more firmly on his chest, raising myself up on my knees.
The sheltered hollow between the rocks protected us from the worst of the wind, but the cold caress still whispered across my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms and back.
I reached down between us, wrapped my hand around his thick, ridged cock, and positioned it at my entrance.
The head of his cock pressed against me, and I began to sink down slowly. The first ridge stretched me, a delicious burn that made me pause, adjusting to the sensation.
Vrogul’s hands gripped my hips, steadying me but not forcing me.
“That’s it, dkaar. Take yer time. Take all of me. Ye’re doing so well,” he encouraged, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.
I sank lower, the second ridge pushing into me, stretching me wider. The sensation was overwhelming—each ridge a distinct feeling, each one requiring me to open more for him. I gasped, my eyes squeezing shut as I focused on the feeling of being filled, claimed, possessed.
“Look at me,” Vrogul commanded.
My eyes flew open to meet his glowing gaze.
“I want to see ye when ye take all of me. Want to see ye become mine.”
The third ridge slid in, then the fourth. I was panting now, my body trembling with the effort and the pleasure. My thighs shook as I lowered myself further, taking more and more of his length.
“So good, dkaar. Ye’re taking me so perfectly. Just a bit more, love. Almost there.”
The final ridge pushed past my entrance, and I sank down completely, fully seated on his cock. The sensation of being so utterly filled, so completely stretched, was indescribable. And then, without warning, an orgasm exploded through me.
I went rigid atop him, my back arching, my mouth falling open in a silent scream. My inner muscles clenched around his cock, spasming wildly as pleasure crashed over me in waves. ‘Twas sudden, intense, unexpected.
Vrogul’s hands were on me immediately, stroking my skin, my sides, my thighs, soothing and praising.
“That’s it, love. Let it take ye. Ye’re so beautiful like this, coming on my cock.”
When I could breathe again, when the waves had subsided enough for me to think, I gasped.
“What was that?”
His grin was pure male satisfaction.
“Part of orcish nature. Our Mates climax as soon as we are inside them in order to ease the way for what’s to come.”
Oh my.
This might be my new favorite part of orcish nature.
“What’s to come?” I murmured. I rocked forward experimentally, gasping at the pleasure which shot through my limbs.
His hands clamped down on my hips, taking control of my movements.
“Fooking ye, love. Are ye ready for me?”
I met his challenge with my chin high.
“So ready. Please claim me, Vrogul.”
His answering grin was feral. He guided my hips, showing me how to lift and lower myself, how to rock forward and back. The ridges on his cock dragged against my inner walls with every movement, creating friction that made coherent thought impossible.
“That’s it. Ride me, my wee warrior. Take what ye need.”
I found my rhythm, rising until only the head of his cock remained inside me, then sinking back down, impaling myself on his length. Each time I lowered myself, each ridge stretched me again, the sensation building and building.
Vrogul wasn’t passive beneath me. He planted his heels on the ground, using the leverage to thrust up into me as I came down.
The force—the sounds—of our bodies meeting drove him deeper, made the pleasure more intense.
His hands guided my hips, controlling the pace when I faltered, urging me faster when I found my stride.
“Ye feel so fooking good,” he groaned, his eyes locked on where our bodies joined.
“Watching ye take my cock, watching ye claim yer pleasure, ‘tis addicting, Mate. Ye’re mine, Rowena. Mine.”
Sweat beaded on my skin despite the cool wind. My long braid swung with each movement, the end of it brushing against his stomach. The muscles in my thighs burned with the effort, but I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. The pleasure was building again, higher and higher.
Vrogul’s thrusts became harder, more urgent. He pulled me down as he drove up, the impact sending shockwaves through my body. I could feel every inch of him, every ridge, every throb of his cock inside me.
“So close,” I panted, my nails scoring lines down his chest. “Vrogul, I’m so close.”
One of his hands left my hip, sliding between our bodies. His thumb found my clitoris, swollen and sensitive, and pressed down with exactly the right amount of pressure.
I came undone.
My orgasm tore through me, more powerful than aught I’d ever experienced. I screamed his name, the sound carried away by the wind as my body convulsed atop him. My cunny clenched around his cock, milking him, demanding his release.
Vrogul threw his head back, his neck corded with strain, and bellowed his own release. I felt the hot rush of his seed filling me, felt his cock pulse and throb inside me as he emptied himself. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me down on him as he came.
Claiming me.
We stayed locked together, both of us trembling, gasping for breath as his seed leaked from our joined bodies.
The world slowly came back into focus—the sound of the waves below, the wind whistling through the rocks, the cry of seabirds overhead.
I collapsed forward onto his chest and his arms immediately wrapped around me, holding me close.
“Mate,” he murmured into my hair. “My Mate. My Rowena.”
And lying there in his arms, claimed and sated, I knew he was right.
I was his.
He was mine.
And I wasn’t going to let him go.