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With Shona Dove”
So damn sweet it almost made his tusks ache.
But if this woman delivered, well, human or not, he really didn’t care.
He adjusted the collar of his expensive chambray shirt, the waistband of his exquisite cut linen pants. He freakin’ hated wearing shirts. Back in Selig he proudly did business bare-chested under his traditional leather waistcoat. He couldn’t give a fuck if people didn’t like seeing his green, tattooed skin.
And normally his pants were leather, too.
But he wanted to prove something to the residents of Motham.
He wanted to prove he’d made it big. Even though he doubted most people here had even heard of his company. Sure, his name was well known over the mountain ranges, but Motham was still behind the times, and information was at least filtered, if not actively censored by humans. Despite its modern buildings, he wasn’t fooled. Motham was still largely controlled by Valley humans.
Tor stroked big green fingers down his tusks, slicked a hand over the thick, braided hair that hung in a ponytail down his back; a traditional orc style belonging to his clan that he’d chosen to maintain. He felt like that braided hair gave him strength from way back when orcs had been proud warriors.
Hah! Let Motham City see that orcs were still warriors.
With that thought, Tor Arquin strode into Dove Realty.
And ground to a halt.
Because the woman who stood up from the desk to greet him was drop dead gorgeous.
All glossy ash-blonde hair and soft golden skin and full pink lips. And huge baby blues blinking at him, fringed by impossibly long lashes. The whole package almost made his big strong warrior legs buckle.
As she moved out from behind her desk, he saw that she was wearing a smart lilac pants suit with a matching silk blouse. And even though it exposed nothing to speak of, just a tiny v of peach skin at her neck and the merest hint of rounded breasts tugging at the buttons of her shirt, that, and the seductive way she sashayed toward him, meant he was done for.
Fuck!
Tor tried to contain his wild orc genes.
And failed.
He simply stood there gawking, the blood rushing south quicker than the speed of light, and thickening his cock.
Thank the gods his pants were a loose cut.
Her eyes if anything got even bluer as she got closer, lips curving into a delicious smile, her hand extended.
“Mr Arquin?”
Almost on automatic pilot he took her hand in his. It was soft, but her grip was firm, even though it slid into his big fist like the smallest thing—like a… like a fucking dove.
“Shona?” he questioned gruffly, his body going off like a string of fucking fairy lights. He’d expected someone quite different. To be honest, he didn’t know what he’d expected. His opinion of humans had never been very high after working in a human-owned mine as a young orc.
But this vision, this angel… this freakin’ goddess…
No, he sure hadn’t expected her.
“Such a pleasure to meet you.” She was staring up at him now and he was struck by her heady perfume, the notes of her femininity beneath it, the rise and fall of her breasts under her lilac suit, the way he seemed to be drowning in the blue depths of her eyes.
“Likewise.” Tor mentally shook himself, told his burgeoning cock to go take a hike.
This was business.
Not pleasure.
He realized he was probably squeezing her hand too hard, and quickly let go.
