“Wemarkyou,” he hissed, the truth of that claim far too clear in those slowly tracing claw-tips, in those glinting black eyes. “With our claws, our teeth, our scent. We make you ours.Forever.”
Rosa shivered, her fingers gripping at the desk behind her, as the orc came another deadly, prowling step closer. Sliding that warm hand down her neck, now, over her collarbone, slipping purposely downwards. Until it finally found the slight swell beneath, and gently, fully enclosed it in that big, heated palm.
Rosa’s breaths were already coming sharp and short, her body arching into the shocking, impossibly arousing feel of an orc’s hand cupping her like that — when suddenly, oh gods, his other hand came up to do the same to the other side. Using more force now, long fingers rubbing and squeezing, hard palms pressing tight. While pointed claws scraped purposefully against the too-thin fabric of her dress, sinking straight through to the delicate skin beneath.
“And webareyou,” he breathed. “We bare you not only for our eyes, but for all our kin. For all who wish to see.”
Rosa heard her mouth give a strangled, inexplicable groan, and in reply the orc smiled again, curving and wicked. “You think you wish for this, foolish woman. Until it becomes truth.”
And then, with a hurtling yank of his hand, hetoreRosa’sdress. Straight down the middle, popping buttons and ripping apart seams with swift, easy force, so that Rosa’s whole front was entirely open to him, and his greedy staring eyes.
She couldn’t help a startled gasp, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself — but the orc only gave another bitter smile, and in another rapid movement, he grasped both her wrists together, and dragged them up high above her head with a strong hand. Meaning that Rosa was entirely bared, exposed, trembling, while those assessing eyes swept up, and down, and up again.
“Such a small, frail woman,” he sneered, while his other hand came to tweak at her reddened nipple. “I shall be able to do whatever I wish with you.”
Rosa’s replying moan sounded more like a cry, especially when that hand began to caress further down her front, slow, teasing, merciless. Leaving faint red scratches on her pale bare skin, while goose pimples scattered again and again, and those black orc eyes kept looking, assessing, judging.
“Nearly too small to fit an orc-son,” that contemptuous voice continued, his fingers spreading flat against her waist, the claw of his thumb delving into her navel. “But mayhap” — his hand slid over to her hip, widening over the slight curve of it — “just enough, if you are very lucky. Do you wish to try this for me, woman?”
The first flare of true fear snaked down Rosa’s spine — he’d said she wouldn’t have his seed, right? — and the shake of her head was compulsive, immediate. Bringing a sudden, deep growl to the orc’s throat, as that big hand rose back to her neck, circling close and powerful around it.
“You forget, woman,” he said, mocking, “I am an orc. And thus” — something flashed across those eyes — “I shall have you. I shall plough you. I shall plant your empty womb with my sons, and fill you until youburst.”
The words brought another choked, desperate cry to Rosa’s mouth, her gaze searching his harsh face, bitter and cold and oddly, angrily triumphant. And for some bizarre, incomprehensible reason, she seemed to catch on that, on the look in his eyes, on the betraying, quiet gentleness in those fingers against her neck.
“Okay,” she heard herself whisper, as her fluttering hand reached again for that warm chest, for the still-hammering heartbeat beneath it. “If it means that much to you.”
She didn’t miss the flare of true shock in those eyes, or the hard movement of his throat — and suddenly, somehow, the game was gone, the mask was gone, the orc’s smooth face contorted with rage and pain and longing. And without warning those big hands grasped her, claws digging deep, and all but hurled her back onto the lending desk, straight onto her neat pile of sources. Sending paper and books sliding haphazardly, all under Rosa’s back, but in this moment it was the least of her thoughts, what with the huge orc looming over her, his hands clenched tight to her bare knees, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
“Foolish woman,” he growled, as he roughly thrust her knees apart. “Do you not know what this could do to you?”
But there was no speaking, no rational thought remaining, because somehow, instead of trousers at the orc’s groin, there was —that. A huge, bare, jutting grey orc-prick. Long, impossibly thick, slick all over. And leaking a viscous, white strand of shining, deadly orc-seed.
Rosa was frozen, staring, and far too late came the realization that she was on her back on the desk, with her legs spread wide and wanton. With every secret part exposed and opened for this orc’s eyes — and for his taking. For this.
“Do you not know?” his voice said again, sounding almost pleading, as he leaned in further, thrust Rosa’s thighs wider. Bringing that swollen, leaking hardness closer, so close it was just tickling at her coarse brown hair — and the sight of that, there, a huge, menacingweapon, waiting to impale her whole upon it, was wreaking wild, unthinkable havoc upon Rosa’s screeching thoughts.
“I know,” she heard her appalling voice whisper, bringing an immediate, tortured-sounding groan to the orc’s mouth — and a sustained, shuddering twitch to that hard length, brushing ever closer against her. Almost as though it was seeking her of its own accord, seeking its way inside, and Rosa could feel her own body giving its frenzied, frantic reply. Her eager, greedy wetness opening and closing, clenching and convulsing, fighting to reach for him, fighting for more —
“Foolish woman,” the orc’s voice rasped, but that hardness against her shuddered again, delving its smooth head just a shade deeper. Just beginning to spread her apart around it, and gods inheavenhe felt good, he had to keep going, the hunger was churning flyingmadness—
Rosa’s hands snapped up to clutch at his broad bare back, fighting to drag him deeper, deeper, please — but that big body over her stilled again, except for that hard cleft, still shuddering just inside her. “You cannot know,” that voice hissed, or perhaps begged. “I maybreakyou, woman.”
The intensity of those words seemed to cut through the madness for an instant, and somehow Rosa’s trembling hand had reached up to touch at his grey, angular face. “I know,” she said again, with an inexplicable, urgent conviction. “But you’d help me, too. Take care of me. Wouldn’t you?”
The orc’s eyes stared down at her, through her, his big body held unnaturally still — but then his head bowed, his loose hair falling over his shoulder in a sheet of silken blackness. “Yes,” he whispered, almost unbearably soft. “I will.”
That was that, then. That was all Rosa needed, and her hand on his face had tilted it back up, bringing those eyes to hers. And she could see the hunger flashing, the madness surging against her own, he would have her, she would have him, and the hardness still jutting against her suddenly knew it, flaring and flexing and filling all at once —
And then, oh gods, there was pressure. That huge, delving head bearing down, shoving its way inside, parting her wet, pink, swollen body around it. It was hot and solid and exquisitely smooth, a slick merciless velvet invasion, and Rosa’s hungry wetness was desperately clenching against it, dragging it in, deeper, more.
“Oh,” her breath choked, her chest hollowing, her fingers clutching helpless at his face, his back. “Oh, gods. Mylord.”
A hoarse, guttural groan burned from the orc’s throat, that thick hardness pushing further, faster, fuller. Truly impaling her now, trapping her bodily upon the huge twitching heft of him, shocking, powerful,alive.
And the sight of it, flickering across Rosa’s fluttering eyes, was just as shocking, just as powerful. This huge muscled orc leaning over her, his black hair hanging over his face, every hard line of him corded and taut and glistening. And at his groin, rather than just that jutting cock, there was also her own swollen body, flushed fuller and darker than she’d ever seen it. Wrapped tightly around that massive prick, taking him well over halfway inside her, and there was still somuchof him left, surely this was impossible —
But he kept bearing down, impaling her ever deeper with deliberate, exquisite care. And she was taking it, she was drinking him deeper and deeper, stretching even wider, her nerves fraying, the world stuttering and tilting sideways —
