Orc Me Out

He’s loud, green, and built like a fantasy. I should evict him. Instead, I let him orc me until I forgot my own name.

The noise from 4B isn’t normal. It’s rhythmic. Deep. Like he’s chanting ancient mating spells straight into my ovaries. I file a complaint. He delivers muffins.

Then reads me a love poem in six languages and fixes my shower shirtless.

Now I’m the one making noise. I don’t do flings. Or neighbors. Or men who growl when I stop touching them. But this orc? He recites Shakespeare like a sin and kisses like a damn apology.

I wanted peace. I got primal vowels and a tongue that ruins me. Technically, he broke the lease. Also technically…

The bed.

Read on for hallway heat, surprise muffins, monster moans, and a massive orc who conjugates verbs and loves hard. HEA Guaranteed!