One of his hands had come to her waist, spreading wide and quietly worshipful against it, and Ella gave a shaky little nod. Earning a flash of an approving, sharp-toothed smile, and then a slide of his hand upward, cupping at her already-fuller breast. “And made to hide my jewels also,” he murmured, plucking at the ridge of the hard ring beneath the multiple layers of fabric. “Such an upright, pretty fine lady tonight, who play-acts as though she should never wear orc-rings in her teats.”
Ella could only seem to nod, and arch deeper into the delicious heat of his touch, the warmth of his smooth voice. Into the truth of his other hand, coming up to curve against the other side, teasing against the new gold ring there. Which he’d placed under Efterar’s watchful supervision this time, making sure there’d been no pain, and that Ella could still nurse their son without any difficulty.
“Ach, but I know better,” Natt’s thrilling voice continued, and in a quick, fluid movement, his hands snapped up to the low neckline of Ella’s dress, slipping down inside — and before she’d quite caught what had happened, her breasts were spilling out over the top of the dress, looking full and peaked and utterly obscene, their gold rings glinting in the dark.
“Natt,” Ella whispered, with a scandalized glance toward the not-quite-closed door, but he only replied with a low growl, a warning tug at her nipple-ring. And as Ella watched, dry-mouthed, he reached up to trail a claw against the necklace she was wearing — a long, thin gold chain, looped about several times — and then he snatched it off, with the uncaring ease of one who’d given it to her. And then he carefully threaded it through first one nipple-ring, and then the second, stringing them together, and then stepping back to admire his handiwork.
“Mark this,” he murmured, reaching an insolent hand to tug on one end of the dangling chain, sending hard jolts of pleasure into both breasts at once. “Such a pretty fine lady should never wear trussed-up teats with her fancy frock. Should she?”
Ella swallowed hard, shook her head, and Natt came a smooth step closer again, the mouthwatering smell of him whirling through the air. “And a fine lady,” he breathed, as he grasped for a generous handful of her heavy skirts, “should never wish to have an orc up her skirts at such a fine party.”
Ella had to choke back a moan, but shook her head again, and in return Natt flashed her a broad, sharp-toothed smile. “Speak, my pretty lady,” he purred. “What should one such as younevertake joy in, at a fine party such as this?”
His hand was already sliding up her thigh, warm and purposeful and possessive, and Ella’s eyelashes fluttered, her gaze still bound to his. “A lady like me,” she gasped, brazen, breathless, “shouldneveragree to be impaled upon an orc’s long tongue, at a party like this.”
Natt’s grin was broad and wolfish, utterly spine-melting — and within a breath, he was on his knees before her, and shoving her skirts up toward her hands. Silently saying hold these, I want you to see what I do to you — and Ella eagerly yanked them up, and feasted her starving eyes on the sight. The sight of a rugged, vicious orc, kneeling before her, leaning in to press a soft, sweet kiss to her bared rounded belly, while his careful hands slid down between her legs, spreading her swollen lips apart —
There was no warning, only the sudden, shocking thrust of his slick, massive tongue, sinking up deep inside. Dragging a sound much like a scream from Ella’s mouth, and she belatedly clasped a hand over it, staring down at Natt’s watching, glittering eyes. At the fierce kiss of his mouth, the faint brush of his teeth, the curving writhing torture of his long tongue, already plunging and twisting and slurping inside her.
“Fuck,” Ella choked, into her hand, as she fought to spread her legs further, take him deeper — and in a quick, effortless movement, Natt thrust her left leg up to rest on his shoulder, while his strong hands held her steady, trapped, opened wide. His tongue and his kisses already pressing harder, stronger, his hot slick mouth fully open against her now, consuming her whole, lurid and wild and obscene — and Ella choked back another cry as she felt his tongue catch on something. Her secret gold ring, hidden deep inside.
Natt moaned against her, his eyes briefly closing, the room suddenly caught, hung still all around. With an orc kneeling in supplication before her, his sharp-toothed, deadly mouth opened wide and gentle over all her most secret places, his tongue caught on his gold, on his promise.
And as Ella swallowed hard, she could feel that clever tongue clasping at his gold, sliding it onto its length. Drawing it down and away, and then out of her entirely, leaving her pulsing wetness open, empty, bereft — but instead here was the sight of him, her wicked mate with his wicked tongue ringed in her gold, licking his lips with dazzling, deadly intent.
He rose to his feet without warning, swiftly dropping Ella’s leg back to the floor, his strong hands finding her face, claws spread wide. And then that beautiful, slick tongue delved between her lips, opening her mouth for him, slipping that gold ring deep inside.
It tasted of her, he tasted of her, and his crackling eyes on hers spoke, without speaking at all. It pleases me to find my gold inside you, they whispered. It pleases me to know that you are always mine, even when you play-act as a fine lady.
He drew away from her, leaving only the ring behind, and Ella slid it onto her own tongue, and brushed it against her parted lips. Saying in return, Yes, Natt. Yours. Always.
His throat convulsed, his eyes fluttering, his hand spreading on her cheek. “My fine, lovely lady,” he murmured, so smooth, so delicious. “Who first has her fat teats trussed, and then begs for an orc’s tongue up her womb. And who now” — the danger caught, flared in his eyes — “shall beg for an orc’s prick, to fuck her tight little ass.”
Ella nearly choked on her ring, her face flushing, and for an instant she was held still, gaping at him, while that image— and those words — rang through her thoughts. Natt’s filthy vocabulary had only expanded these past months, as he’d plumbed the depths of her truth for the most shameful words she knew, but he couldn’t truly mean — she was wearing a newdress, she had to go back to aparty—
But Natt had brought a single claw to the chain connecting her bared nipples, giving a brazen, purposeful tug upon it. “A fine, proper lady,” he breathed, ordered, “who shall beg an orc for a hard, rough ass-fucking, at her fine fancy party, whilst she holds her orc’s womb-ring in her mouth. Ach?”
The hunger was rising, pounding, shoving away all Ella’s protests at once, and she gave a red-faced nod, and dragged up her courage — and then obediently turned away from him, bending slightly, putting her hands flat to the wall behind her. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered, around the ring still in her mouth. “I wish you to —“
Natt was already yanking up her skirts again, exposing her bare arse, drawing her hips toward him. Spreading her apart for him, exposing everything with an easy, efficient familiarity, and Ella was quivering, trembling, the words caught, choked —
There was a light, purposeful slap at her arse, a warning squeeze of a clawed hand on her skin. And then the feel, shocking and thrilling and terrifying, of a single clawed finger tracing down her parted crease, slow, gentle, deadly.
“A fine lady,” Natt purred, “who wishes for what, lass.Truth.”
Oh gods, but Ella desperately nodded, drew up truth. She wasn’t a lady. She was pretending. And in truth she was Ella, of Clan Grisk, and always had been. And she wished for this, so desperate it was consuming her alive —
“Please, my lord,” she gasped, thrusting her bare arse back, into the touch of his claw. “Please. Take me.”
Natt’s heated, answering growl was truth itself, and so was the sudden, jolting feel of that hard, slick, tapered cockhead, pressing justthere. Kissing her there, with sweet, lurid approval, while Ella kissed back, helpless, wriggling, shameless. Knowing what he wanted, without him even saying it. Her voice. Her truth.
“Please,” she choked. “Please, my lord. My husband. My Speaker. Fuck me, with your huge, gorgeous orc-prick.”
But Natt only held her there, trapped and writhing on just the tip of him, silently demanding yet more, while his mouth let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. And too late it occurred to Ella what she must look like at this moment, fully done up, dressed in her costly new frock, but bent over double in her side drawing-room, with her bare arse jutting out, kissing at an orc’s bare cock, desperately seeking to take him deeper.
But in this moment, in this truth, there was no shame. Only arching back more, bringing down her own shaky hand to pluck at her exposed nipple-ring, and then to curve over the swell of her waist, feeling the heat of Natt’s approving eyes following her every movement. Truth. She could speak truth.
“Please, my lord,” she breathed, her voice husky, hungry, sweet. “Please, take me. Fuck me. Fill your lady’s tight little ass with your huge orc-prick, and your hot dripping orc-seed, at this fine, fancy party.”
