CHAPTER 3 — Where’s the Harm ? #4
Nearly panting with the need to have him push me down and shove into me, I self-evaluate and decide that I’m ready to agree to almost anything, and his rule sounds delightfully reasonable, so I nod.
“Okay.” I turn in his grasp, until I’m facing him, legs tucked under me, not dislodging his hand.
“I’ve told you I want you. Why aren’t you helping me undress? ”
His brow furrows, my words seeming to trouble him.
Absently, he strokes his strong hand up and down my shin, making my whole body shiver with hungry heat that he seems oblivious to.
“It wouldn’t be proper to go further than this,” he tells me seriously.
“A man lays with his wife—and then he cares for her, supports her.” His gaze drops to where his hand is still stroking me—and he stops, pulling away slowly but with resolve.
“I won’t join with your body until I have your marriage vows. ”
I stare at him. I wait.
He doesn’t say anything.
“You’re serious?” I croak. I could leap on him, I’m so ready.
He looks me right in the eye. “I would never jest on a matter such as this. You’re my guest who will leave this room untouched save for what we’ve done above your dress, or you are my wife who will make love with me for the first time tonight.”
Candle and lamplight cast an awfully romantic glow on a man.
Roarg’s jaw is so square. And whatever I drank was really strong.
And speaking of strong, so were his capable, talented, skilled hands.
Also, he smells like the best idea ever.
My pussy clenches, aching and empty. But I see in Roarg’s face that he means what he says: he won’t touch me more unless I tell him that I agree to be his wife.
My insides flutter, and I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, inhaling more of his burnt metal scent, plus fresh sweat. It shouldn’t smell good, but damn it really does. It really, really does. I gulp as my mouth starts to water, thinking, What are a couple of words?
I’m so primed, I’d say just about anything. “All right,” I tell him faintly.
His gaze sharpens. His jaw goes tight. “You give me your vow? You will marry me?”
Hesitation stalls my tongue—it’s something about his severe eye contact, his seriousness over me giving him this promise. I have the impression he’s going to want to hold me to whatever I say.
But… as veridical as this situation seems to be, a few hours ago I was in the real world, my world, living my completely normal life.
I can barely comprehend how not illusory this Orc place seems to me, and it follows that just like I arrived here in a nanosecond, at any moment, I could get sucked right back home.
Whatever I say and do here now won’t matter when I go home to live real life again.
Right?
Roarg shifts, and a length of iron brushes against my knee.
Yeah, it’s his cock. And it’s so hot, I can feel it through my dress.
“Yes,” I tell him quickly.
He swoops down and captures my lips with his, his hand coming up to cup the back of my head and hold me in place.
It’s a good thing too, because the feel of his big tusks making impressions along the sides of my mouth, the ivory feel of them pressing into my cheeks and bumping my nose when he angles his head a little—it’s such a surprise that I almost fall back.
He’s got ahold of me too tightly for that, though. His fingers sink into my hair, and strange tusks aside, I sink against his mouth, my hands tentatively rising to his ribs.
Which are so solid, it’s like placing my hands on a wooden barrel.
He’s wide and hard, not an ounce of fat on him, and his skin is slightly rough.
My fingers are curious and they start to stray, sliding until I’m touching his pecs and meeting his chest hair.
When I tug on it, he growls and attacks my mouth harder, bowing me back until I’m falling under him, submitting to him on his bed.
My breath catches as he takes advantage of my surrender, swiftly moving on top of me, his hand going to my thigh, gripping it over my dress.
Yes! Yes! I’m mentally shouting, hands going to his hair, sliding my hungry touch to the cords of his neck, enjoying myself a moment before my fingers find and start measuring the insane width of his shoulders.
I sigh into his mouth and tentatively test the feel of one of his tusks with my tongue, giving it a lick.
He growls and jerks my dress up to my waist.
More than ready, I start to raise a leg to his hip, but he catches my ankle and pushes it to the bed.
It’s a show of domination so small it shouldn’t set off the riot of wetness that creams my pussy lips. And yet, without panties, I feel the effect his strong grip is having on me all too well.
I hold still, waiting for him to do something… but he doesn’t. He just keeps my leg pinned down.
I pull back from his mouth, already feeling the beard-burn he’s given me, head thumping to the covers. “Why are you stopping?”
Panting above me, eyes on fire, his voice is guttural. “Because I have the sense you aren’t…”
“Ready? I’m so ready,” I assure him.
“Committed,” he finishes.
A tiny pang, something related to guilt, tries to emit a tiny flare in my chest. I rub it away and pant, “I’m committed, Roarg.” He’s so big above me, making me feel… something primal, I can’t explain it. Whatever it is is driving me crazy. I’m nearly moaning.
And I’m not the only one experiencing this need. Hearing me say his name makes him growl. Eyeing me fiercely, he grits out, “Fine. I want you naked.”
Back to my brooches I go, fumbling with the pins.
Hands shaking slightly, Roarg brushes my fingers away. “Let me, my new love.” His eyes lock on mine hungrily.
Suddenly shy, my hands slide to his back and I bite my lip, looking up at him as he undresses me.
He groans and leans in to take my mouth in a quick, hard kiss, giving me another bracing gust of sweet root beer breath.
Just as fast, he’s pulling back. And to my confusion, his gaze starts to cool with a strange determination.
“Your shyness speaks loudly. I won’t make you admit that this is your first time. ”
I blink up at him. Then I have to bite back a rueful smirk. “With an Orc,” I tell him wryly, “it will be. But,” I shake my head, hair mashing into his mattress. “This won’t be my first time having sex.”
He eyes me as if to gauge my honesty, and then he’s divesting me of my dress so quickly it makes my head spin. So does the sight of my naked skin brushing his.
He’s so… green.
This is weird.
As if he can sense my onset of nerves, he runs his hand up my thigh, over my hip, and scuffs along my belly with his callused but careful hand. “I’ll make love to you gently,” he promises, his voice a tender, soft rasp.
I catch his fingers, making his eyes fly from the spot between my legs to my eyes. “I’m nervous—but you’ve driven me so crazy, I don’t necessarily want gentle.”
A sudden predatory glint fills his eyes. An excited one. “If you change your mind, you have only to tell me,” he warns.
And then he grabs me by the hips and jerks me into his lap, rolling back so I pop up on top of him, my breasts hanging over his face, my butt planted on his stomach.
The ease with which he maneuvered me up here has me staring down at him in shock—but he doesn’t notice.
He’s been hypnotized by my nipples. “Great forges in the sky—this is what dreams are made of.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve never dreamed of a woman’s nipples,” I tell him seriously.
This gets him to glance past my breasts to see my face. He stops my breath with the wicked smile he slants me. “That’s because you aren’t seeing your nipples like I am.” And he sucks one into his mouth.
I throw my head back, gasping. My hand curls around his head, the softness of his short hair dimly registering as wonderful even as I’m bombarded by the heat and wetness of his lips clamped around my areola.
His tusks press along the sides of my breast, like ivory brackets. It’s an alien feeling, but it doesn’t hurt. In fact, the alienness of it is weirdly exciting. Pleasure shocks travel down my belly straight to the spot between my legs, and I grind myself on his delightfully ridged abdominals.
His hands go to my ass, fingers digging into my muscle, thumbs rubbing my thighs. He bucks his hips at nothing—I’m sitting too far forward for him to enjoy contact—but for my part, the sharp movement, the inherent need in it, sets off an answering ache deep inside me.
Sucking in a breath, I try to scooch back, to seat myself on him, but his grip on my butt prevents me from moving. Instead, he makes me bounce on his stomach, mimics what he wants me to do whenever he decides to let me ride him.
It’s another act of control, of domination, no matter how subtle, and it makes me cry out. “Roarg!”
His mouth pops off of my nipple—and it’s so swollen from his sucking that I gasp. His tongue curls out, and he licks it softly as if in apology. “Yes?” he tries to ask calmly—but he’s as breathless as I am.
“Please,” I beg, tensing my thighs and pushing up to escape his grip that’s keeping me sitting squarely on his stomach.
I try with all my might to edge up and back far enough to get the relief I need, but my best effort is no match for his incredible strength.
Until he lets me up, I’m not going anywhere.
He makes a vibrating sound deep in his chest, his eyes slowly leaving mine to focus on my breast—the one that feels ignored. “Please what?” he asks as he casually leans forward and kisses it.
My whole body shudders in reaction. My sex weeps and my legs start to tremble. “Roarg, let me—”
He sucks my breast into his mouth, and bites my nipple.
“—please, ahnnnnh!”
The coil that’s been tightening at my center snaps. The strength of my orgasm makes me screech. My muscles lock, my hands fuse to his chest.
Very consciously, very intentionally, he covers one of my hands with his own and laces our fingers.
It makes my belly clench.