Part Four #2
“My beautiful Farrah. Don’t even know a proper pet name for ye, darling, with how beautiful you are, and how much I love you, more than any other thing I’ve ever seen, more than any other thing I thought I knew.”
“Ian... Ian, I love you the same way,” Farrah’s whisper turned into a moan when he dared to stroke the hot, wet spot under her panties, his fingers slipping under the fabric when her hips thrust forward. “Oh, yes,” she breathed out, voice low and hungry. “Touch me there.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. His thick, smooth fingers went to work, exploring as slowly as he could force himself to go, barely keeping his eagerness in check.
So soft. So slick. His fingers stroked up and down, learning her layers before settling into a more thorough exploration of the hard little button on top, hidden by curls the color of sun-bleached wheat.
Farrah’s voice was his guide, a siren’s song, telling him he was doing the right thing as he pressed down and around, learning the circular motion she preferred.
But that siren’s song couldn’t be refused, and it led him to the lips, telling him that if he really wanted to hear his bride crying out in pleasure, he needed to taste her.
Open her. Drink from her until she was literally making sweet rivers of juice for him to lap up.
He kissed his way south, sad to pry his cock from her warm fingers, but excited to explore, to please her.
“Ian—”
“What a gorgeous girl I have. So lovely and pink, and looking so tempting,” Ian shushed the faint note of caution in her voice as he knelt between her legs just long enough to slide her underwear off and pin her skirts up.
He undid his kilt with only a minor flash of worry about what Farrah would say, or if anyone might discover them.
He used the long yards of fabric (an Orc’s kilt being 30 feet instead of the human’s standard twenty-four) to extend their outdoor bed and lay himself down between her legs, nuzzling her soft inner thighs and sighing as he found a new favorite pillow.
“You’re so gorgeous, Ian. Beautiful. Your skin... It’s my new favorite shade. And I’ve always... I always felt better surrounded by green. My parents said it was the magic in me, the love of woodlore and herbcraft. That I belonged in a glen or a garden. I think I belong with you.”
“And I belong with you,” Ian assured her, rising up on one elbow, fingers stroking and teasing through her curls and down to her cheeks, stroking her outer lips lovingly. “And you’ll not just be surrounded by green, but full of it.”
“God, yes. Soon, please,” Farrah agreed.
He had to admit that the biggest boost to his confidence was the way she opened up to him easily, all while looking hungrily at him, as though she was excited, not nervous.
Any lingering nerves on his part took a little holiday. He bowed his head and nuzzled his lips into her curls, nose working in deep, silent inhales of her scent, a rich, sweet forbidden scent that was no longer forbidden.
This is my mate. My bride. My cup to drink from and fill. Ian let out a low, satisfied chuckle and dipped his head between her legs, tongue dancing, and tusks pressing her outer lips.
FARRAH’S HANDS SLAMMED into his head and held there, her eyes wide at the jolts of pleasure that came fast and hard.
Being licked and sucked on was completely different than being touched and rubbed, at least to her.
Maybe it was because Ian’s mouth was so large, and his tongue was long and wide—and deep.
“Oh, God!” she let out a startled gasp when Ian’s tongue slid deep into her pussy, and his upper lip rubbed and rode against her clit at the same time. His eyes locked onto hers, making her blush, pinning her in his gaze.
He’s inside of me. Licking me where his cock’s going to go. Making me so wet—and watching me.
That was what really undid her: his steady gaze as he did sinful things, licking her like she was an ice cream sundae and someone had told him he couldn’t use his hands or a spoon.
Farrah’s hands latched onto her breasts, tight, achingly hard, and tingly.
She cupped and rubbed them, teasing the nipples as Ian watched.
Giving each other a show, she thought, and she felt herself flooding his mouth with a fresh wave of excited warmth. Only with Ian would she ever feel comfortable doing such things, showing such things.
“You feel so good,” she whimpered. “And I’m going to return the favor,” she moaned, hips starting to scoot forward, eager to feel more pressure on her clit.
“This is all the favor I’ll ever need, love,” Ian laughed, lifting his head for a moment. He placed his lips around her clit and sucked, looking at her, watching her knead her breasts and squirm. “Good little mate, making herself so wet,” he crooned.
“You’re doing all the work,” she laughed.
“I can do more. Think it might help,” Ian offered. His lips went back around her clit, and the pressure from his soft, steady sucks threatened to make her explode. And then, she felt his finger tracing her entrance, soft and eager after he’d tongued all around it as well as inside.
His finger was different. Solid and thick, sliding into her gently.
Even though she’d certainly not been fully innocent with a few boys she’d met in college, things had never reached this stage.
She’d played and pleasured herself before, but there was rarely any penetration.
She knew Ian wasn’t some daft male who would expect blood-stained bridal linen, but she also knew it was going to be a new sensation, being opened up on anything of his size—and that was just a finger.
“Hm?” Ian asked her blessing with his mouth full of her clit, his eyes glinting with lust as she neared her climax.
“Your fingers are huge. All of you is huge, compared to other men. Human men. Just go nice and steady,” she urged, already feeling him pressing deeper and wider than anything she’d ever felt.
She was so sweet and ready that his intrusion only felt like a deep, burning stretch, the kind that made her gasp and close her eyes—but at the same time made her squeeze down tight and push forward.
“Oh, Ian. That’s actually so good. I’m getting so close. ”
Ian nodded and shifted position, which made her want to protest at first. “I love your mouth,” she whined as he sat up, wiping his chin.
“And I love your pussy. I’m going to be feasting on it every night if my lady wife gives her blessing.”
“All the blessing you could ever—no!” Farrah let out another little squeak of dismay as she lost the thick finger only moments after it had been inside of her.
“I know you’re not done, Farrah mine, don’t worry,” Ian said, and lifted her into his lap, one of his hands landing between her legs across her belly, and the other underneath her, his finger sinking into her slow and deep, making her tense, breath caught in her throat.
“You’re so good at this,” Farrah whimpered as she realized how Ian was trying to make things as wonderful as possible for her, one hand rubbing her clit and curls, the other buried inside of her.
The combination made her eyes shudder closed and her head and neck fall backward, leaning on his chest.
“I have you, love. I’m never going to let you go now. Never.”
“Forever with you. Best wedding present ever,” Farrah moaned, feeling the tight stretch turn into waves of pulsing heat, everything pressing on her sensitive spots from inside and out.
“Fuck me just like that, Ian,” she begged, and could tell by the way his thighs jumped under hers that he liked the suggestion.
In fact... “Lie back, lie back with me on your chest,” Farrah urged, and Ian obeyed at once.
She sprawled on him, turning her head to kiss him, feeling him pounding inside of her, thick finger parting her until she could feel his knuckles against her inner thighs as she squeezed her legs shut around him, quivering and coming. “Ohh. Oh, Ian, that was so good.”
“It certainly was,” Ian answered, voice a rasp as he withdrew from her and sucked his finger clean.
Farrah was surprised how that single gesture awakened a primal sort of lust in her, but she’d explore it later.
With Ian, she’d explore it forever. Right now, she half sat up, reaching for his cock, hand not quite closing around the bell-like head.
Ian was slick with his own essence, and his hips bucked up into her hand.
She slid down, pressing her still throbbing slit against his thigh while her hand stroked, reveling in the beauty of the sky above them and the feel of Ian’s strong chest under her.
“There’s something called knotting tea,” he murmured. “I’m supposed to tell you about it, so you can make it. I won’t fit in you today, love, but—”
“Do you mind if I use magic?”
Ian sat up now, just for a moment. “To make the tea?”
“To make things more expandable so you’ll fit,” she laughed gently. “I won’t be a giantess, and you won’t suddenly be half your size—although that would be more than plenty.”
“Won’t that make you have to concentrate, Farrah?” Ian’s voice was serious now, a frown on his lips when she turned to look up at him. “I want you to enjoy everything. Of course, if this is too big, I suppose it wouldn’t feel very enjoyable. I just—”
“I just want you to be quiet for a minute. I’m not going to do anything drastic.
I’m just going to find a way to be closer to my husband,” Farrah whispered, eyes closing, concentrating.
Expanding charms were something she was an expert at, having used them on virtually every flight since she was ten to be able to cram far more clothes and toys in a standard suitcase than was “normally” possible.
She’d never tried to do anything similar on a living being, but she let out a breath and felt her magic seeping through her, warm and soft, and she directed it down, settling it into her core.