Chapter 22 #2
Inch by inch. I’m trembling with the effort of not slamming home. Every instinct says to bury myself to the hilt and thrust and fill her with my seed, but the look on her face — the way she’s breathing, adjusting, her body opening for mine — keeps me controlled.
When I’m finally fully inside her, we both freeze.
The sensation is overwhelming. The tight, wet heat of her surrounding every inch of my cock. I’ve imagined this. Stroked myself in the shower to the thought of this. Nothing compares. Not even close. “You feel—” I can’t finish. I don’t have words for this.
“I know.” She’s trembling beneath me. “Me too….Move,” she says after a moment. “Jonus, move.”
I pull back and thrust in slowly. She moans. I do it again, sliding in and out. She wraps her legs around my hips and digs her heels into my ass, urging me deeper.
“Harder.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. Harder.”
I give her what she wants. My hips snap forward and she cries out, but it’s not pain.
Her nails rake down my back and she’s making sounds that drive me out of my mind.
I look down at where we’re joined — my green cock disappearing inside her, glistening with her arousal — and the sight almost pushes me over the edge again.
But I manage to wait because I want to see her orgasm around me.
I reach between us and find her clit again, still swollen and sensitive. I circle it with my thumb, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
“Come for me, Sloane.”
Her inner walls clamp down on me and her back arches. She screams through her orgasm, her nails drawing blood from my shoulders, her pussy squeezing my cock in rhythmic pulses.
And that’s all it takes.
My back arches and a roar rips from my throat, primal and raw, echoing through the empty house. My cock throbs inside her, jetting seed deep. Wave after wave, filling her, claiming her. I grab her hips and grind into her, making sure every drop goes where it belongs.
When it finally ends, I’m gasping. I collapse beside her, pulling her against my chest. Seed leaks from where we’re still joined and drips onto the pile of clothes beneath us. A possessive growl rumbles in my chest at the sight.
She laughs breathlessly. “What was that growl for?”
“I like seeing my seed inside you.”
“I like it too. I could feel it happening. It was warm inside of me.”
I’m already hardening again. She feels it and her eyes widen. “Are you serious right now?”
“I told you I’d fill you. I wasn’t talking about once.” I roll over her again, bracing on my arms. I’m still inside her and the new angle makes her gasp. “Again?”
“You don’t even need a minute?”
“Orc biology doesn’t include rest breaks.”
She grins up at me. “Well then. Don’t keep me waiting.”
The second time is slower. I take my time and learn her body. What makes her moan versus what makes her scream. The spot inside her that makes her fingers grip my horns. The way she whispers my name when I hit the right angle, so different from the screaming.
“I love you,” I tell her mid-thrust, and the words come out raw and honest and I don’t even plan them. They just spill out of my mouth.
“I love you too.” She pulls my face down and kisses me and I feel her smile against my lips. “I love you and your tusks and I love your ridiculous cock.”
I bark out a laugh that turns into a groan as she tightens around me deliberately.
“Do that again,” I growl.
She does.
We come together this time, slower, deeper, and when I pour into her for the second time I press my forehead to hers — the orc gesture of devotion — and breathe her name against her lips.
The third time she’s on her hands and knees and I take her from behind, gripping her wide hips, watching myself disappear into her. I reach around and strum her clit and she screams into the carpet.
By the fourth time we’re both wrecked. I’m on my back and she’s draped across my chest, our bodies slick with sweat, the pile of clothes beneath us thoroughly ruined.
Seed is everywhere, leaking down her thighs, smeared on her stomach.
A possessive satisfaction settles in my bones.
I have claimed my female and filled her with my seed.
And if my nose is right, I’ve started our first son inside her today.
I run my fingers through her auburn hair. My body heat keeps her warm despite the empty house having no utilities. We have been here so long morning has now turned into afternoon.
“I’m going to be sore for a week.” Sloane lifts her head and grins at me. “Best kind of sore.”
I press my lips to her forehead. “Thank you for coming to me, trying to talk me down, but it was dangerous. The only thing I could think about was getting to you. I didn’t know if I’d—”
“You didn’t hurt me. Not once. Even when you jumped out a window.” She traces a finger along my jaw. “Even when you ran through the neighborhood and kicked down the back door to this house. You protected me the entire time.”
I swallow hard.
“You brought me here,” she says softly, looking around the empty room. “Of all the places you could have gone. Caves, mountains, the wilderness. In your winter frenzy state you brought me to the house you picked out for us.”
“I was half out of my mind.”
“And the half that was still in there knew exactly where home was.”
I pull her tighter against me. She nestles into my chest and we lie there in the quiet, listening to the nothing of an empty house.
“By the way,” she murmurs against my skin. “I love this house.”
I smile against her hair. “It’s ours. Escrow closed yesterday.”
She lifts her head. “What? When were you going to tell me?”
“I was going to tell you this morning but someone sent mercenaries to the house first.”
She laughs. “Inconvenient.”
“Very. I’m having a bed delivered Monday. This room, this exact spot. In the meantime, we can—”
Then I hear it. Voices outside. Car doors closing. Footsteps on the gravel.
Garlen’s voice shouts from below. “Jonus. Are you in there?”
I can also hear Aldar. “The back door is broken.”
“My family has found us,” I warn my bride.
“Oh shit.” She starts to scramble off me but there’s nothing to wear, my clothes are shredded and hers are scattered across the floor beneath us. I manage to pull on the remains of my torn pants. She wraps herself in my destroyed shirt, which covers her about as well as a dishrag.
Footsteps are on the stairs.
Dane appears in the doorway of the empty bedroom. He takes in the scene — the two of us barely dressed, flushed, on the floor of an empty room next to a cold fireplace, surrounded by scattered clothing and the unmistakable scent of what we’ve been doing for the last several hours.
His nostrils flare. He can smell everything.
A long pause.
“He’s fine,” Dane calls down the stairs. “They’re both fine.”
Garlen appears behind him. Looks at me and at Sloane. His nostrils flare too.“She’s not hurt,” Garlen confirms quietly. “I can scent it.”
“Can we please not do the scenting thing right now?” Sloane’s face is scarlet, her arms crossed over the shirt that’s barely covering her.
Garlen almost smiles. Almost. Then he sobers. “The police have been at the house for hours. FBI is en route to deal with the mercenaries and investigate who sent them. And Sloane — Aldridge has already been arrested in DC. The story went live about an hour ago. It’s the front page of every outlet.”
Sloane goes still beside me. “It’s live?”
“It’s live. It’s over.”
I feel her exhale. The weight of months — of a kidnapping, a pit, a jungle, a rescue, an article, an attack — lifting from her shoulders. She presses her face against my arm and breathes. “It’s over.”
From downstairs, Aldar’s voice carries up, “I’ve been on the phone with Kelt. Third scent bomb, same chemical signature as the ones used on Garlen and Keric. Someone is manufacturing these and getting them to humans and specifically targeting Irontrees.”
From the doorway, Garlen meets my eyes. A look passes between us. Three attacks. Three scent bombs. Three Irontree males who went feral. Someone is doing this deliberately and Kelt is going to hunt them down.
But that’s a problem for another day.
Garlen looks around the empty bedroom. The vaulted ceilings. The mountain view through the bare window. The soft carpet where I just mated with Sloane for the first time.
“Is this the house with four bedrooms?” he asks.
“Yes. Escrow closed this morning.”
“Good choice.” He turns and walks back downstairs. Dane follows behind him and all three Irontrees leave and return home.
I pull Sloane against me and press my lips to the top of her head. Through the window, the mountains are turning pink in the sunset. This room still smells like us. Like the beginning of everything.