Chapter 43
Kneel. Beg.
It should have been shocking. Humiliating. Especially in this crowded room, full of watching, listening orcs. Orcs who would witness this, and judge.
But Raye’s swift, furtive glance around the room didn’t find any judgement in the orcs’ eyes.
Only curiosity, and warmth, and approval.
As if this was expected of her, somehow, especially at an important gathering like this.
And Othan had begun stroking his drum in a lazy, suggestive rhythm, while before the fire, Eyolf and Iyolf had already curled up together, Iyolf softly nibbling at Eyolf’s throat.
“Did you not hear your mate, saeta?” came Gaelfr’s voice from beside Raye on the sofa, as he finished tugging off her dress, leaving her clad in only her lacy red chemise. “He said to kneel, and beg.”
Raye’s cheeks were already burning, and her gaze snapped back to Kalfr’s face, to his glittering waiting eyes. And at the sight, she rapidly nodded, and slipped off the sofa, onto her knees on the fur before him. A movement that felt too natural, too easy, almost… eager.
“Please, voreur,” she managed, through her too-dry throat. “Please, allow me to — to honour you.”
Kalfr’s eyes flickered, but he arched his brow, and didn’t reply. Waiting, wanting more, and it shouldn’t have coiled like that, deep and needy in Raye’s belly. And she shouldn’t be thinking of last night, on that very sofa, when Gaelfr had said, She needs this from you. You need this, also.
“Please, voreur,” Raye said again, steadier this time. “Please, let me tend you. Touch you. Taste you.”
Her cheeks burned even hotter, but she held her gaze on Kalfr’s face, waiting. And she only half-caught how Gaelfr huffed a satisfied grunt from the sofa, and leaned forward, and tucked something into her hair. A flower, perhaps plucked from one of the vases now dotted around the room.
“Ach, touch him, saeta,” he murmured. “And keep begging, also. Keep showing him how sweet and pretty and hungry you are.”
A hard shiver rippled up Raye’s body, even as she cast another uncertain glance up toward Kalfr. Did he want this kind of — interference — from Gaelfr? And did he really want her to touch him?
But Kalfr’s brow only arched higher, waiting for her to obey Gaelfr’s command — so Raye gulped down a breath, and settled her hand carefully against his thigh.
And when Kalfr didn’t protest, didn’t resist, she hauled in another breath, and began sliding her hand higher over his trousers.
Feeling the hard lean muscle beneath, the way it spasmed at her touch.
And the way the trousers already felt taut, strained, because oh, that telltale bulge was growing in front, pressing out against the fabric.
And when Raye glanced back up at Kalfr’s face, that flutter of his hooded eyes said that yes, he liked this.
He liked her kneeling before him like this, dressed only in her red lace, with Gaelfr’s flower in her hair.
He liked her touching him, begging him, needing him.
He wanted this power over her, and maybe he still wanted her punishment, her humiliation…
But in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, but the rising hunger, and the stark, desperate need. Raye was proving this, keeping her vow, meeting him, with this touch, this breath, this longing.
“Please, voreur,” she ventured, as her trembling hand skittered up over that bulge in his trousers, and felt its answering flex against her fingers. “Please, let me tend you, and suck you, and worship you. Just like your ástvinur promised I could.”
It was perhaps a risk, drawing Gaelfr into it again, but yes, Kalfr liked that too, flicking a knowing sidelong look toward Gaelfr that was equal parts amused and appreciative. To which Gaelfr easily grinned back, and carefully stroked at Raye’s hair, making sure not to dislodge her flower.
“Ach, I did promise her this, for us both,” he murmured. “You will not refuse our mate, will you, ástin mín? Most of all when her mouth is so tight, and so sweet.”
As if to demonstrate, Gaelfr slipped his hand down Raye’s hot face, and tugged his finger imperiously at her bottom lip.
Drawing her mouth open, so he could smoothly slide that finger all the way inside, all the way to the knuckle.
And when Raye obligingly sucked on it, drawing it as deep as she dared into her throat, Gaelfr’s smile was fond, his booted foot nudging approvingly against her arse.
“See, ástin mín?” he asked, his low voice curling deep in Raye’s belly, as he slid his finger out of her mouth, and back in. “She is hot and soft and sweet, and ready to please you.”
But oh, hell, Kalfr was still just watching, his eyes glinting with meaning Raye couldn’t follow.
But perhaps Gaelfr followed, because he chuckled, and drew his finger out of Raye’s mouth with a lurid-sounding pop.
“Or,” he drawled, “mayhap you wish her to tend me first, as she promised? I shall gladly weigh her skill, and make sure she is ready for you.”
Fuck. Kalfr’s eyes flashed, his nostrils flaring, and Raye swayed on her knees at the sight.
Yes, that was exactly what Kalfr wanted.
And instead of arguing that, or being insulted by that, her mouth was watering, her groin throbbing with hunger, and she raised her chin, and brushed her hand against her heart.
“If that’s what you wish, voreur,” she said, with unthinkable steadiness, “then I will be honoured to oblige.”
Kalfr replied with only a slight incline of his head, but it was a yes, it was, oh gods.
And when Raye wrenched back toward Gaelfr, he smiled indulgently toward her, and one of his hands caressed her hot cheek, while the other lazily unfastened his trousers.
Pulling them apart with slow, insolent tugs, and drawing out his thick, hungry cock into the open air.
“Open up, then, saeta,” Gaelfr purred, as his hand again found her lips, and tugged her mouth open. “Show us what a good, worthy mate you are.”
With that, he guided her head down, aiming his cock up to meet her — and then he slid himself between her lips.
Filling her, occupying her, with such casual, proprietary ease, as if he had every right — and maybe he did, because Raye groaned around him, casting him a look that felt almost grateful as she sucked him deeper into her throat, and her mouth swarmed with the taste of his wondrous sweetness.
“Ach, that is better, is it not, saeta?” he crooned, with a pat to her cheek. “Now, keep sucking, so your mate can witness this, and judge.”
Gods damn him, damn them, because Kalfr had dropped to sit on the sofa beside Gaelfr, and he was indeed watching this. He wanted to watch this. Wanted to see Raye kneeling over Gaelfr’s groin like this, with Gaelfr’s fat cock stretching her lips apart, his crown prodding deep against her throat.
“Good, Raye,” Kalfr said, his voice both soft and commanding, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “But I have seen you take him deeper than this, ach? Show us.”
His eyes flicked up as he spoke, sweeping across something behind her.
Suggesting that their audience was still attentively watching — show us, he’d said — and Raye inhaled through her nose as she fought to relax her throat, and take Gaelfr’s blunt head deeper.
And surely she was succeeding, based on how his shaft was spasming against her lips — but oh, Kalfr wasn’t even watching, because he was gesturing toward someone, his brows raised.
And a moment later, someone passed a mug of ale into his hand, and handed one to Gaelfr, too.
“Thank you, Grum,” Kalfr said, and his voice was still impossibly easy, impossibly calm. “Gael, is there aught else you wish for?”
Gaelfr considered that, glancing toward the kitchen, even as his cock powerfully vibrated between Raye’s lips. “Some of those spicy nut dumplings, mayhap,” he replied, with abominable nonchalance. “With a few dollops of that sweet sauce on the side, also.”
It was ridiculous that Gaelfr could even speak amidst this, let alone make a detailed order for snacks.
Enough that Raye’s teeth — which were already lightly scraping him — clamped down rather harder than she meant.
Earning her a sharp downward glance from Gaelfr’s eyes, and a gentle slap against her flushed cheek.
“Behave, woman,” he ordered, though he softened it with a small quirk of his mouth. “I have not forgotten you are there. Now you seek to enjoy your good feeding, whilst I enjoy mine.”
Raye should have scoffed, because there was no way she was enjoying this.
No way her own mouth quirked up, too, even as she began easing herself up and down his thick length.
Trying to take him deeper every time, because he liked that, and Kalfr liked that.
And when Grum handed Gaelfr his plate, and Gaelfr tossed a small dumpling into his mouth, his moan of pleasure surely wasn’t all for the food, was it?
No. He wanted this. They both wanted this.
Raye was doing this, proving this, even if it meant bringing up both hands, so she could milk and caress Gaelfr’s shaft, his bollocks.
Even if it meant easing his crown entirely out of her mouth, so she could sip and kiss at his steadily pulsing seed like he was her favourite treat.
Even if she occasionally let it smear across her lips, or spatter across her cheek, because he fully stopped to stare at that, the dumpling held halfway to his mouth.
“How is she, Gael?” Kalfr coolly asked, as he plucked the dumpling from Gaelfr’s slack fingers, and tossed it into his own mouth. “Is our mate pleasing you?”
Gaelfr’s tongue brushed his lips, and he took a too-fast drink of his ale. “She shows promise, mayhap,” he said, though his voice sounded more strangled than before. “But you see she has not yet milked out all my good seed, either.”