I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down, pressing soft kisses to her inner thigh. When I finally pull back and look up at her, she's absolutely wrecked, panting and flushed and staring down at me with something close to awe.
"That was…you didn't have to—" She's struggling to form coherent sentences and the satisfaction of reducing her to this state is immense.
"I wanted to." I rise to my feet, keeping her leg hooked over my hip. "I've been dreaming about the taste of you for weeks. And now that I know—" I lean in, brushing my lips against her ear. "Now that I know how sweet you are, I'm going to do that every single day for the rest of our lives."
She makes a small whimpering sound that goes straight to my cock. "That's a pretty confident statement from someone who's still fully dressed."
I grin against her throat. "Is that a complaint, little baker?"
"It's an observation." Her hands find my belt, fumbling with the buckle. "One I'd like to remedy immediately."
I help her, because while I want to draw this out, want to savor every moment, I'm also rapidly reaching the limits of my control. My belt hits the floor, followed by my pants, and then there's nothing between us except the overwhelming difference in our sizes.
She looks down as her eyes go wide. I can see the moment the reality of the situation hits her, see the flicker of uncertainty cross her face.
"It's going to fit," I promise, cupping her face in my hands and making her look at me. "I'll make sure it fits. I'll be careful. I won't hurt you."
"I know." She takes a shaky breath. "I trust you."
Those three words, I trust you, undo me completely. I kiss her hard, pouring everything I feel into it, and then I'm lifting her again, carrying her back to the heavy wooden prep table. I lay her down carefully, following her down so I'm caged above her, my forearms braced on either side of her head.
"You're sure?" I ask one more time, even though it's killing me to wait. "Because once I do this, Quinn, you're mine. Completely mine. No take-backs. No second thoughts. You're my mate, and in my culture that's forever."
"I'm sure." She wraps her legs around me, pulling me closer. "I'm yours, Lanek. Now prove it."
I line myself up carefully, watching her face as I start to push forward. She's so tight, her body resisting the intrusion despite how wet she is, despite how much she wants this. I go slowly, inch by careful inch, giving her time to adjust.
"Breathe," I murmur against her temple, holding perfectly still even though every instinct is screaming at me to move. "Just breathe, little baker. Your body knows what to do."
She takes a shuddering breath and I feel her start to relax, her body opening for me. I push deeper, and the sensation of being inside her, of finally claiming my mate, is so overwhelming I have to close my eyes and count to ten in Orcish to keep from losing control immediately.
"Okay," she gasps when I'm finally fully seated inside her. "Okay. I just need a second to, oh , you're so big. How is this even?—"
"Because you were made for me." I start to move, shallow thrusts that make her gasp and arch beneath me. "Because you're my perfect mate and your body knows it even if your stubborn human brain took weeks to catch up."
She laughs breathlessly, then moans as I hit a particularly sensitive spot. "My stubborn human brain is the only reason we didn't do this on day one."
"We should have." I pick up the pace slightly, watching the way her eyes flutter closed, the way her lips part on little gasps of pleasure. "I should have thrown you over my shoulder and carried you to my bed the moment you strode into my shop."
"That would have been…ah…extremely illegal."
"Worth it." I lean down to capture her mouth in a kiss, swallowing her moans as I finally, finally let myself move the way I've been dreaming about. The way I need to.
The prep table creaks beneath us, the heavy wood protesting the force of my thrusts. All I care about is the woman beneath me, clinging to my shoulders, meeting me thrust for thrust despite the size difference. All I care about is the way she's saying my name like a prayer, like a curse, like the only word she knows.
"That's it," I growl, feeling her body start to tense again, recognizing the signs. "Come for me, Quinn. Let me feel you come apart on my cock."
"Lanek it's too much?—"
"You can." I slide a hand between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves again, and she shatters. I feel it, feel her whole body lock up as pleasure crashes through her, feel the rhythmic clenching of her body around mine. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced.
I follow her over the edge moments later, burying myself as deep as I can go and letting out a roar that probably wakes half the neighborhood. My release seems to go on forever, my body pulsing inside hers, marking her, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
When I finally come back to myself, I'm collapsed on top of her, my full weight pressing her into the table. I should move. Should check that she can breathe. But my body feels heavy and satisfied in a way it never has before, and the possessive part of my brain is purring with contentment at having my mate pinned beneath me.
"Can't breathe," she wheezes, and I immediately shift my weight, bracing myself on my forearms again. "Thank you."
"Sorry." I press a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her lips. "Got carried away."
