He even reached for the books again as he spoke, plucking them out of Rosa’s grip with a single flick of his claw, and bringing his other hand heavy to her head. “Now,” he said, “before I think better of granting you such a gift.”
Rosa’s stomach was still grumbling, still flooding her with humiliation, but that last threat had done its work, because her trembling knees had fallen to the earth, seemingly on their own. And that huge, scarred, dripping hardness washere, directly in front of her face, and for a breathless instant there was a distant twinge of sanity, of rationality, what was she thinking, this was truly, breathtakinglyoutrageous—
But then John leaned forward, and his clawed hand nudged that thick, slick head between Rosa’s panting, parted lips. Spreading them apart around him as he gently, inexorably bore down, more and more, as that glorious sweet taste charged through Rosa’s thoughts, her consciousness, her veryself—
She let out another dragging, wretched moan, earning another chuckle from above, low and succulent and mocking. And he was such an utter bastard, a lying manipulativebeast— but there was scarcely room to follow that, to face that, when one was frantically and noisily sucking on a huge, liberally leaking, utterly delectable orc-prick.
He wasn’t even thrusting, or moving, just standing there silent and scornful, without so much as a gasp. As though being publicly sucked off by a desperately ravenous woman was a thoroughly unremarkable occurrence — and Rosa’s swift, shameful glance upwards proved it, his black eyes on hers cool, watchful, distant.
And maybe it was the fact that her stomach wasn’t quite so hungry, now, her eager throat having already swallowed a considerable quantity of that thick sweetness — or maybe it was that cruel comment he’d made about her weak mouth, or even the sudden vision of the night before, of all his careful distance wrenched away, showing the truth hidden beneath. But whatever it was, Rosa was swarmed with a reckless, raging need to show him, to impress him, she was damn good at this, and this bastard was damn well going to admit it —
So she drew back slightly, sliding up the full length of him, learning him, exploring him. Delving and flicking her tongue all over the head of him, deep into that luscious slit, almost as if to drink him from the inside out — and then, after a thick, bracing breath through her nose, she sucked him deep again, as far as she could go, pressing him firm and powerful against her throat.
There had been just the faintest flutter of those eyelids, his face otherwise still distant and composed, so Rosa did it again, harder this time. Sliding up the length of him, licking and lavishing that smooth slick head, and then sucking him as deep as she could, her throat working and convulsing around him. She couldn’t quite take him all the way, but circumstances had lain waste to her gag reflex years ago, and it was a very near thing, his coarse black hairs tickling at her nose —
There was a sound from John that might have been a gasp, even as his gaze remained remote, unmoved. So Rosa held her blinking eyes to his, daring him to ignore this, pleading with him not to ignore this — and then braced herself, and took him even deeper. Her throat flaring and twitching and silently shouting, jammed full of a huge invading orc-prick, while her fluttering hands came up and grasped for him, one to his warm hip, one to those heavy bollocks below…
That earned a hiss, a hollowing of his chest — and suddenly Rosa was driving her mouth onto him, with all the strength she could muster. Taking him urgent and powerful, sinking up and down his full length, her tongue twisting, her lips stretched and slurping, her throat screaming as she slammed his unrelenting heft against it again and again, and gods she needed this, she craved this more thanlife—
John’s eyes still hadn’t changed, not suggesting even the faintest interest in her efforts whatsoever, but that —that— was the unmistakable, thrilling feeling of his big hand, coming to rest against her head. His fingers skittering just slightly, those claws carding into her hair —
It was everything,everything, spurring Rosa on harder, faster, deeper. Her own hands trembling and clutching against him, her face burning, her eyes streaming water, that brutal demanding prick pummelling her throat again and again and again…
There was another gasp from his mouth, quiet, hushed, unmistakable. And those distant, dispassionate eyes finally flared,finallybetraying him, and those powerful hips snapped forward, digging him so deep that she very nearly choked —
And then he poured out into her, flooding her, drowning her. Swarming her mouth and her throat with surge after surge of thick melting honey, so much that it blocked her throat, filled her cheeks, leaving her coughing and fighting to swallow — until he finally yanked himself out from between her lips, and the seed immediately surged after him, spewing out thick and humiliating and obscene from Rosa’s gasping, swollen, reddened mouth.
She could feel his eyes watching, waiting until it subsided into a steady dribble, pooling messy and slick off her chin. And curse her, but even now her aching, shivery tongue had slipped out, licking at what she could, and swallowing it down her distinctly sore throat.
But John hadn’t laughed, or mocked her, and when Rosa risked a furtive, shameful glance up toward him, his eyes weren’t angry or regretful, like last time. Just watchful, intent, and that big hand in her hair slowly tilted her face up, showing him the utter mess he’d made of her, her chin still dripping with his thick sticky white.
“Foolish little pet,” his voice said, so low she could barely hear it. “Ach, youwerehungry.”
Rosa couldn’t seem to speak, only blinking up at him through oddly wet eyelashes, her heartbeat echoing erratic through her ears. And John’s head tilted, those claws lightly scraping against her scalp, and he brought his other hand up, tracing the back of his finger into the mess on Rosa’s chin.
“Here,” he murmured, as he brushed that finger up against her parted lips — and there was only doing it, obeying it, licking and lapping at his skin. And again, when he went for more, and then again. Desperately drinking up whatever he would give her, as much as he would give her, until her face was mostly clean again, and she was sucking the last of his leavings from that gentle, careful finger, now sunk deep into her mouth.
“Do not put your tongue to my claw,” he warned, still soft, when she perhaps went too close. “It shall cut you, should you not know just how to take this.”
Rosa managed a nod, swirling her tongue more carefully, until his hand finally drew away. Reaching behind him, for where — Rosa’s hazy eyes fought to focus — he’d at some point set down the package of books on a nearby rock. And now his other hand slipped away from her too, pulling out from her hair to carefully turn over the package, as if inspecting it for dampness or damage.
It left Rosa there gasping on her knees, cold and shaky and untouched, and suddenly flooded all over with shame. Why had she done such a thing, given this orc such a thing, when he clearly barely even cared? Certainly not as much as he cared about the books, based on how he was currently frowning darkly at a corner of the package, and then lifting it to his nose, inhaling deep.
Gods, it was allmadness, and Rosa scrubbed at her still-sticky face with her clammy hands. She was here for a reason. She was here for research. She was getting Lord Kaspar his war, and saving herself from a hellish future, and that was all. Three weeks.
With effort, she staggered up to her wobbly feet, grasping onto the nearby tree for balance, while John continued to blatantly ignore her, in favour of untying the package, and then rewrapping it with deliberate care. Only sparing a brief glance back toward Rosa once he’d finished, his eyes again shuttered, somewhere else.
“Come, woman,” he said, his voice clipped, utterly lacking the warmth of only moments before. “We have dallied long enough.”
The hurt surged again, before Rosa’s rational brain could stop it — no, no, this was research, that wasall— and she made herself nod, and walk her shaky body back toward him. Until she was close enough that he could again grip that powerful arm around her, and hoist her bodily up onto his hip.
“You must hold tight,” he said, without looking at her. “Now that I have renewed my strength, I shall run with all speed.”
Rosa mutely nodded, and that arm tightened against her — and then, with a forceful kick of his leg, they were off. Again tearing through the trees at a breathtaking pace, following some unknowable path, into terrain that became harsher and rockier with every passing moment.
But again, Rosa somehow seemed to sink into the curious, inexplicable safety of it. His big body shifting and striding, his chest close and bare and warm, his strong hand firm under her arse. His other hand even coming to touch her, sometimes, holding her steady against him as his graceful form leapt and dodged and climbed. Almost as though this were a frolic together, or a game, or maybe even a dance.
“I must drink,” he said abruptly, perhaps in mid-afternoon, once they’d approached what appeared to be a cliff, with the distinct sound of a rushing stream below. “Stay.”
