“Is it, lass?” Natt whispered, and with a silent shift of muscle there was the feel of his huge solid thigh, moving between hers. Giving him better access to this, spreading her apart for him, but Ella found that she didn’t seem to care. Just gasped and shuddered at the feel of it, that strong orc leg between hers, that hot orc finger now delving deeper between her folds, and slipping itself slowly, just slightly, inside.
“Is this a small thing, lass?” he insisted, his other hand come to Ella’s chin. Making her look up at him, into those eyes, even as that single finger drove deeper between her legs. Exploring her, invading her, while her tight, swollen body clenched hungry and frantic around it. Almost as though she craved it, welcomed it, needed it with a rising, swarming desperation that was trammelling all conscious thought.
“Speak, lass,” Natt said, low and commanding. “When last I knew you, you oft could not breathe for your constant words and questions and laughter. Where is your voice.”
Ella felt herself twitch against him, around him, as another whirl of memories paraded behind her eyes. She’d indeed been a chatterbox back then, much to her mother’s displeasure — but thankfully Natt had never seemed to mind, and had even seemed to welcome her incessant questions. Things like where do you live, who is your mother, how can youeatthat, do you ever wear shoes. Why don’t orcs like us, why do you always raid like you do, do you really want women forsport.
Ella hadn’t even truly known the meaning of that last one, at the time, but like all the rest, Natt had carefully considered the question, and had given a quiet, measured answer. My fathers wish for women most of all because they long for kin, he had said. They long for sons. And they do not wish for orcs to fade from the land forever.
“Speak, lass,” Natt purred, as that finger slid ever deeper, flaring more sparks behind Ella’s eyes, under her skin. “Is this a small thing.”
Ella took a shaky, guttural breath, let it out. “No,” she heard herself say, her voice choked. “It’s not.”
There was an approving circle of that finger inside her, and a flash of those white teeth. “No,” he agreed. “It is not. And a hungry male does not stop at this. If you saw that piddling man do this to another” — his lip curled, contempt flaring in his eyes — “you may be sure that he has filled her with his prick, and his seed, as well.”
His finger slipped a little deeper inside her as he spoke, as if to soften the strength of that claim, and Ella felt her body arch against it, even as her sinking thoughts twisted and churned. Natt was right, about Alfred. Of course he was right. But she still had to go back after this, everything would be fine, she would wear that dress, walk down that aisle, keep her family’s home, become a real lady…
There was a low growl from Natt’s mouth, almost as if he’d somehow followed her thoughts. “We shall have our vengeance for this betrayal, lass,” he hissed. “You shall find deep joy as you scream and writhe upon my tongue.”
The words should have been horrifying, but instead Ella had actually moaned aloud. While her dripping wetness convulsed violently against him, telling him very clearly that indeed it would like more, please…
“Good lass,” Natt murmured, and suddenly there was the feel of a second blunt finger below, nudging soft and wet against her crease. Pressing, delving alongside the first, feeling very tight and tenuous and full, so full, oh —
“You must breathe,” he whispered, his black eyes steady on hers. “You must make your womb soft and open for me. You must think of blooming enough to welcome my tongue inside you.”
Oh. Sothatwas what he was doing, then, he was implying that his tongue was thicker than two entire orc-fingers, and Ella felt her whole body shudder and gasp, clenching against that too-tight invasion of him. Bringing another sharp-toothed smile to his mouth, one that looked almost patient, or affectionate.
“I saidopen, lass,” he purred. “Were you any other, I should gladly break apart your maidenhead on my tongue. But you” — his smile faded, his voice dropping — “you shall open yours for me. You shall welcome me inside you. I shall not have your blood on my mouth. Not yet.”
The words were deeply appalling, in far too many ways to count, but Ella had only groaned again as those delicious fingers circled and delved, seeking a way in. But not succeeding, not yet, and despite her harsh breaths, her attempts to relax, it still felt far too tight, too close, what if it couldn’t, what if she couldn’t —
Natt’s head tilted, studying her, and then he slowly, purposely, slid his other hand around, behind her head. Sinking his fingers deep into her hair, almost as if cradling her — and then he drew her forward, andkissedher.
It was an explosion of colour and scent and heat, warm lips and slick wetness and a succulent musky sweetness. His mouth soft and open and clever, his tongue brushing light against hers, perhaps in a silent invitation — and to Ella’s silent astonishment, she answered it. Slipping her own tongue into that hot orc-mouth, and feeling the strength of his huge orc-tongue, brushing back. Gentle and soft and open still, perhaps the sweetest, filthiest kiss she’d ever had in her life, and a stilted, distant part of her seemed to understand all at once what Natt was doing, what he was showing her. Using his body to speak, like he always had.
So Ella felt his mouth’s openness, revelled in it, drowned in it — and willed herself, somehow, to do the same. To open back to him, to welcome his explorations, to do between her legs what he was doing with his mouth, soft and wet and obscene — and oh gods, it wasworking. That second finger finally slipping up into her, filling her almost shockingly full of him. And while it was tight, there was no pain, just the base wanton thrill of it, an orc with two whole fingers sunk deep between her legs.
And now here was that tongue, suddenly slick and sinuous and powerful, pushing back into Ella's mouth. Driving, invading, just like those fingers below, and itwashuge, it was an unspeakable indecentmonstrosity. Stretching out her lips, her jaw, around it, curling and tasting inside her, strong and impossibly large — and then, slowly, drawing back again. Even as those two fingers below drew back too, nearly all the way out, leaving her body feeling swollen, strange, empty.
But no, it just meant it was Ella’s turn, her turn to kiss and taste back, to explore that warm, willing mouth with hers. And to do the same below, to embrace the gentle nudge of his fingers, to be open and willing against them, to welcome them as they slowly, purposefully sank back inside, and that huge, glorious tongue did the same.
Gods, it felt good. Felt easy, right, and even more so when Natt kept going deeper, his tongue brushing against her throat, his fingers below sunk to the base. Almost powerful enough to lift her off her feet, but there was no chance of falling, not with his tongue and his fingers locked inside her, holding her firmly in place.
When Natt finally leaned back, ending the kiss, Ella found herself hot and trembly all over, her eyes trapped to that mouth. And her hand, that hadn’t been touching him all this time, seemed to lift up on its own, coming to brush against his lips. Touching an orc,voluntarily, but that orc’s dazed dark eyes had fluttered at the contact, his lips parting, his black tongue slipping out to curl against her fingers.
Damn. There was no way an orc — anorc, doingthat— should be so wildly arousing, but then that orc’s fingers between her legs slowly slipped out of her, away from her entirely. Dropping her skirts again, leaving her panting and untouched, while — Ella let out a keening gasp — he brought up those fingers, still glistening with her wetness, and took them deep into his own mouth.
He watched her as he did it, his eyes gone hard and challenging as he sucked with deliberate intent. Tasting her, wanting to taste her, drinking her up — and then he slowly brought those same fingers to Ella’s own mouth, sliding them inside. Tasting now of him, and her, a strange blend of salt-sweetness, an even stranger intimacy passing between their locked eyes. Raw and earthy and obscene, sharing kisses juices fingers, peeling away Ella’s innocence piece by agonizing piece.
“Are you ready, lass?” Natt whispered. “Shall you now welcome my tongue deep between your legs?”
A hard groan escaped Ella’s lips, and her replying nod was immediate, with no trace of doubt. But Natt was still waiting, black eyebrows raised, and Ella gulped for air, made herself speak. “Yes,” her voice rasped. “Very well, I will.”
She was rewarded with an approving flash of those white teeth, and then the sudden feel of his big hands coming around to her arse. And then he hoisted her bodily up off the floor, light and easy, as though she weighed nothing.
“Brave lass,” he murmured, his huge hard bulk suddenly far too close — and it was moving, striding, carrying her, across the room. To where there was an old upholstered couch, set in front of the cottage’s largest window, and Natt gently deposited Ella down upon it, and then lowered himself to the floor before her. An orc, kneeling between her legs, looking up at her, his face stark and scarred in the dappled moonlight.
“You shall speak, lass,” he said, as she felt both those warm hands against her bare ankles. “You shall speak if I vex you, or bring you pain. You shall pledge me this.”
