Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Ginger
Grak sweetly sets me down on the edge of the tub as he turns the hot water on in the shower in my en suite bathroom.
I’m not sure why he’s treating me like I’m helpless, but I’m not going to fight it.
I’m too tired. Too filthy. Too overwhelmed and happy to question anything.
Steam fills the room as he drops his kilt. And there it is again. My goodness, the girth of it.
I blush as I stand up and begin to strip off my long underwear and bra, having already discarded my extra layers as soon as I came downstairs to my apartment.
I don’t question how both of us can possibly fit inside this shower. I just know he’s here with me, and that’s all that matters.
The scent of his sweat is already giving my surroundings a homey, familiar feeling.
“You don’t have to … I mean, if this is too cramped…”
“Shush, wife. This is where you are, and therefore I am here too. I need my eyes on you.”
The hot water runs over me, and Grak stands behind me, circling his big arm around my waist. His other arm hugs me close across my upper chest.
I look back at him, at his massive shoulder. His chiseled jaw. The prominent forehead.
This creature I married is a work of art.
A sigh escapes me as he moves and caresses those thick fingers through my hair, thoroughly wetting it.
I grab the shampoo and show him how to use it.
“Wait,” he says.
For the first time, I watch as Grak undoes the warrior bun and lets his long, sleek, jet-black hair fall. And fall. And fall. I gasp as it extends downward, almost all the way to his backside.
It’s glorious, and I want to wrap it around my whole body.
“This is going to take a lot of shampoo,” I say.
I show him how to work it through his scalp, which he has to duck down under the spray to get wet.
We laugh and explore each other, washing each other’s hair, rinsing everything out, behaving like teenagers getting away with something.
We move on to the soap, gently scrubbing away the dirt and sweat from a long day of work. Though, as square footage goes, I’ve got a lot more ground to cover with washing this orc.
I work the loofah over his mighty trap muscles, over the vast plain of his chest, behind his ears.
He takes it and sweeps it over my throat, then leans in to press his lips there.
“You smell good.”
“I’ll smell even better if we ever finish washing up without getting distracted,” I tease.
Grak rumbles and dips his head lower. Rough fingers sweep over my nipples, and I jump slightly.
“These…I like these,” he says, filling both hands with my breasts, using his thumbs to toy with my nipples.
Sensing my arousal, he lowers his head and takes one nipple into his mouth. The sucking is a whole experience with Grak’s tusks scraping me there.
By the time he switches to the opposite nipple, I’m wide awake and buzzing with arousal.
But Grak doesn’t take it any further. Not at first. We finish washing up, and he turns off the water. Then, he wraps me in a fluffy towel and carries me to bed.
He is damp and naked over me, his wet hair tied up in that infernal man bun once again. I’m shivering.
I reach for him, but Grak is already locking his arms around me and taking what he wants.
He kisses me hungrily, molding my body against his.
I feel every inch of him, and it is delicious.
He pulls away from the kiss only to paint my face with his lips, dabbing smaller kisses everywhere.
“I cherish this face,” he says.
Once again, he presses his mouth over mine, coaxing it open with his tongue. I moan against him, savoring the sensation of our wet, sensual kiss.
He pulls me on top of him, then, sliding his hands over my lower back, massaging me just where I need it.
My eyes flutter closed at the pleasurable massage.
“Are you ready for sleep?”
“No!” I say, my eyes flying open. “Why would you suggest that?”
“Tomorrow is Sunday, and the farm is closed to the public.”
How did I forget what day it was, but he’s already fully adjusted to life on the farm?
“Well, I’m not tired,” I lie.
“You are. And so am I. Let’s go to sleep. We have all day tomorrow to take this as far as we want,” he says.
One thing about Grak, he doesn’t lie.
He’s asleep almost instantly, the moment I curl up and cover us both with the blankets.
And he takes up almost the entire bed. But I don’t mind this, finding his torso surprisingly comfortable to lie on.
And he’s just the right amount of toasty.
All night, he holds me close, our legs tangled together. Although he’s nearly three feet taller than I am, I find that my body fits in perfectly snug next to his. Everything about this arrangement makes a weird kind of sense. And isn’t that true about a lot of things when it comes to Grak and me?
I fall asleep with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Morning comes with two big orc hands holding on to my breasts as I lie on my side, still on top of my husband.
My body goes tight at the feel of his hands there, not knowing if he’s doing this to wake me up or if he reached for me like this in his sleep.
I lightly feather a kiss over his mouth.
He sighs, and I take it up a notch by licking over his bottom lip.
The girthy cock moves, now hard against my hip.
I smile.
Grak cups my face and pulls me down for a growly, sleepy kiss.
I run my hands down his chest, exploring all his many ridges, ripples, and veins. So not human but not that much different, either.
Needing to see him, I push the blanket away to reveal the pole he’s sporting.
His shaft is stiff, long, and thick, the tip resting against his navel.
“Touch me, wife.”
Well. He doesn’t have to ask twice.
Grak sucks his breath in through his gritted teeth as I run my fingers over the hard length. His jaw tics as I gauge his thickness with my fingers and measure his inches with the span of my hand.
I’m wildly curious…will it fit?
Wetness pools just thinking about the possibilities.
“I need you, Grak.”
“You will have me whenever you like,” he says, quickly hauling me up until I straddle him. I gasp as he seats me on his cock.
Teasing, I lean forward and tug at the warrior bun. He swiftly tugs the band loose, and the jet-black locks tumble out onto the pillow. That’s my husband.
I run my fingers through that luxurious hair. As I do this, he wastes no time teasing one of my nipples with his mouth. I moan, and he does that thing with his tusks and rough tongue that makes me crazy.
Electricity zaps through me as I move over him, taking his cock in my hand and guiding the tip to my damp core.
“There you are,” he says. “There is my wife.”
His wicked mouth opens me up, and I slip the tip inside.
“Go slow, little human.”
I sigh. No one has ever called me little. On top of this orc, I feel dainty and pretty and spoiled. And I love that feeling.
His eyes are tender and soft as I move over him, sliding him in deeper, inch by inch.
I slowly stretch and adjust to his girth.
“Tell me I’m yours,” I blurt. “I need to hear it.”
With a low growl, Grak pushes up into me. “You are mine and only mine. I share you with no one. Anyone touches you, and I’ll rip them to shreds. I will flay your enemies on the battlefield and I’ll do it with a smile on my face.”
I don’t know why, but it works. I take all of him. Every damn veiny, ridged, hard inch of that orc.
My cunt is stretched to its limit, but the pain is nothing next to the wonder, the ecstasy of watching this fierce warrior beg underneath me.
“Fucking hell, Ginger.” He curses some more and thrusts upward.
He’s so forceful that my knees come up off the mattress.
He’s so big, and I’m so small in comparison, I have nothing to hang on to.
And I’m done for as he reaches between us to thumb my clit.
“That’s my wife. I fucking own that pussy.”
“Yes!”
My voice cracks as my first orgasm of the morning rips from my throat.
My heart gallops.
Heat explodes inside me as my husband’s body goes stiff under me. Grak’s grunts and strange curses vibrate the room as I milk him dry.
My husband. My orc. Mine. All mine.