24. Willa
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WILLA
He set me on the bed and stepped back, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I need to see you,” he said.
My hands went to the hem of my shirt. I pulled it over my head and dropped it on the floor.
His gaze tracked the movement, then returned to my face before dropping to my chest.
“Keep going,” he said.
I reached behind me and unhooked my bra. The straps slid down my arms. I let it fall away.
His breath caught. His hands stayed at his sides, but I sensed he was aching to touch.
I’d never felt more powerful than I did right then, half-naked while he looked at me like I’d given him something he’d been starving for.
“Your turn,” I said.
He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it beside mine.
My mouth went dry.
I’d seen him shirtless before, but this was different. This was him offering himself to me the way I’d offered myself to him. His broad shoulders tapered to a defined chest and abdomen. Green skin that darkened at his collarbone and lightened along his ribs.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I want this to be right for you. I want you to feel what I do.”
“What do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been waiting for this my entire life.”
He climbed over me, bracing himself with his arms and legs, and kissed me slowly. Tasting. Savoring. When he pulled back, his eyes had darkened.
He settled beside me, one hand braced by my shoulder while the other slid along my collarbone.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“So are you.”
He huffed. “Orcs aren’t beautiful.”
“All of you is gorgeous. Your hands. The way you hold your tablet. How careful you are with the creatures. How you look at me when I’m not supposed to notice. You’re beautiful in all the ways that matter.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You notice too much.”
“I learned from the best.”
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hand sliding to my breast. His palm cupped the weight of it, his thumb brushing across my nipple.
I gasped against his mouth.
He did it again, lifting his head to watch my face.
“You like that,” he said.
“Yes.”
His head dipped. His mouth closed over my nipple, and I arched off the bed.
Ridges. I’d felt them before, when he’d pleasured me against the wall, but feeling them circling my nipple was different. Each ridge caught and tugged, the texture sending sparks racing across my skin.
He hummed against my skin, the vibration traveling to my core.
He undid my pants’ button and zipper and hooked his fingers in the waistband, pulling them down, taking my underwear with them.
I was completely naked now, spread out on our bed while he still wore his pants.
He sat back on his heels, looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re here.” His voice came out rough. “In my bed. Mine. You have been for weeks, but this is different. Special. We can’t turn back once we’ve crossed.”
“I don’t want to turn back,” I said. “I only want you.”
His growl of pleasure rang out.
He bent forward and kissed my hipbone. After crawling between my legs, spreading them, he kissed the inside of my thigh, moving higher. Higher still.
When his mouth found my core, I arched my back off the bed.
The ridges on his tongue dragged across my clit in slow strokes. Each pass made my brain skip. My thoughts dissolved into nothing except the feeling of him, the pressure, the—
The ridges started vibrating.
My hips jerked off the bed.
He hummed again, and the vibration intensified, the ridges moving against me in waves.
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything except feel the way his tongue stroked me, each ridge vibrating independently, creating sensations I had no framework for.
His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open, and he kissed and sucked and slid his tongue across my clit as if he had all the time in the world.
“Oh god,” I gasped.
One thick finger slid inside me.
“Yes,” I breathed. “More.”
A second finger joined the first, stretching me, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
He pumped them slowly while his tongue kept stroking my clit, the dual sensation making my vision blur.
“Traig, I’m going to—”
He pulled back.
“Don’t stop!”
“You’re not coming yet,” he rasped. “I want to be inside you.”
He slid off the bed and undid his pants, pushing them down. I was suddenly aware of how small I was in comparison to this male. I’d need both hands to wrap around his bicep. His palms could span my ribcage.
I wasn’t intimidated.
I’d read about orc anatomy. I’d tried not to think about it too much because thinking about it made me nervous and aroused at the same time.
But seeing it was different.
He was proportional to his size. This meant he was significantly larger than any human I’d been with.
“We’ll go slow,” he said, catching my expression. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know you won’t.”
He climbed back onto the bed, settling between my thighs. His weight pressed me into the mattress, and I wrapped my legs around his waist.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said.
“I will.”
He reached between us, positioning himself, the blunt pressure of him against my entrance making my skin prickle with need.
“Breathe,” he said.
I inhaled.
He pushed forward slowly, watching my face.
The stretch hit me all at once, too much and not enough, and I couldn’t decide if I needed more or needed him to stop or—
His ridges running along his length quivered against me with each inch he pushed forward.
I couldn’t think; only feel.
“Breathe,” he said again, his voice strained. “The ridges are—they’re sensitive for both of us.”
My hands flew to his forearms, gripping tight.
“Alright?” he asked, freezing.
“Yes. It feels good.”
He pushed deeper, bit by bit, giving me time to adjust. When he was fully seated inside me, we both went still.
“You’re so tight,” he growled. His whole body trembled.
I squeezed around him.
He groaned, his head dropping to the headboard. “Don’t. Not yet. I need—” He sucked in a breath. “I need a moment.”
Pulling slowly out, he pushed forward again, seating himself fully again.
Words dissolved. He was too big, I was too small, this wouldn’t—and then it did. My body made space for him because it had been waiting for exactly this.
“Mine,” he growled.
“Yours,” I said. “And you’re mine.”
His body shuddered. “Yes.”
Sliding out, he drove forward again.
My moan shot out.
“Better?” he asked.
“So much.”
He started pumping. In and out. The friction made me gasp.
“Good?” he asked.
“Very good.”
He set a steady rhythm, rocking into me while I held on. Each thrust dragged his ridges against me in ways that made my vocabulary disappear. In, the ridges caught. Out, they dragged. The friction was everywhere, constant, maddening.
But I needed more, something I couldn’t name.
“Harder,” I said.
His control cracked. He withdrew almost completely, then thrust back in.
I cried out.
“Like that?” he asked, his voice strained.
The ridges moved in waves along his length, each one vibrating independently as he thrust.
“Yes. Just like that.”
He did it again and again, building momentum until the bed shook with each thrust.
But I still wasn’t where I needed to be.
“Wait,” I said.
He stopped, concern crossing his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I pushed his chest. “Can we try something different?”
“What do you need?”
“I want to turn over.”
His eyes darkened. “You mean on your hands and knees?”
“Yes.”
He withdrew carefully and helped me flip over, his hands steadying me as I got into position. Then he was behind me, his hands gripping my hips, lining himself up again.
He pushed forward slowly, and I dropped my head, clinging to the sheets.
“Alright?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
He started moving, his hips driving deeper. From this angle, every thrust made my elbows nearly give out. When his ridges started vibrating again, my arms gave way, and I dropped to my forearms, making the angle even deeper.
His grip on my hips tightened. “I’m trying to hold on. Feels so good.”
“Don’t try.” I pushed back against him. “Give me everything.”
One of his hands left my hip and slid around to my front, finding my clit. The combination of him filling me and his fingers stroking was too much.
I gasped. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice was hoarse in my ear. “Come for me, Willa. Let me feel it.”
His ridges vibrated harder, the waves cresting in a pattern that matched the circles of his fingers, and it was too much.
Everything went still.
I shattered. Every organized part of me that liked filing systems and counted good things gave up and let go. I came with a cry, my body shaking, and he followed me over, his grip tightening on my hip as he thrust once, twice before going still.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, before he withdrew carefully and helped me collapse onto my side. He curled around me, pulling me back against his chest, his arm wrapping around my waist.
“The ridges,” I said. “You didn’t tell me they could do that.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” His hand traced lazy circles on my hip. “Did it work?”
“I think I left my brain somewhere on the ceiling.”
His laugh rumbled through me. “Good.”
We lay in the dark, our breathing gradually slowing.
“I need to clean you up,” he said after a while.
“In a minute.”
“Willa—”
“Just hold me for now.”
His arm tightened around me.
We stayed like that until my body stopped trembling and my heart rate returned to something approaching normal.
He rose, kissed my shoulder, and slipped out of bed.
Water ran in the bathroom, and he returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned me gently. When he was done, he climbed back into bed and pulled me against his chest.
“You know,” I said, “if this is what happens when I reorganize your spice cabinet, I’m going to mess with your things more often.”
His laugh vibrated through me. “You can mess with anything you want.”
“Dangerous offer.”
“I mean it. Reorganize it all. Make it yours. Make it ours.”
Our mating marks caught the moonlight coming through the window.
“About what you said earlier. Know that I’ll always care,” he said softly. “That’s not conditional. That’s not something you have to earn.”
Tears prickled the backs of my eyes. “I’m still learning that.”
“We both are.” He kissed the top of my head.
I pressed closer, my ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Whatever the Council decided, we had each other.
His hand moved in slow circles on my back.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
“How to document this.”
“You’re not seriously thinking about your tablet right now.”
“No. I’m thinking that I have no explanation for this. No way to prove I’m doing it right.” He looked at me. “Loving someone doesn’t fit in my filing system.”
My lungs forgot how to work.
“You love me?” I whispered.
“I’ve loved you since the message pad.” He ran a fingertip across my mating mark. “Maybe before. I didn’t have words for it yet.”
“I love you too.”
His hand stilled on my wrist. “Mate. My precious mate.”
Fred grumbled in the living room, and I’d bet anything Amanda’s crown had turned bright pink.
Even the creatures knew.
Traig’s breath evened out, sleep pulling him under.
I stayed awake a little longer, feeling the weight of his arm around me.
The Council could send their judgment.
We’d already made ours.