The realization was enough to jolt her to stillness, her disbelieving eyes wide on the orc’s face — and the too-perceptive bastard smirked at her again, and once more jabbed his claw toward the ground. “Kneel, woman,” he repeated. “Now.”
And finally, foolishly, without at all intending to, Gwyn jerked a shaky little nod, and… obliged. Dropping awkwardly to the earth, and shifting so that she was indeed crouched on her knees before this tall, commanding, enraging orc.
There was an instant’s caught stillness between them, and Gwyn blinked up, glaring, perhaps daring him to mock or gloat — but his eyes on hers were strangely still, and she could see his chest expand, and hollow again. And his clawed hand, which had been hovering in the vicinity of her face, slowly lifted up, and smoothed against her hair.
The touch was surprisingly careful, or even gentle, guiding her hair back. Perhaps searching for the place she’d injured, and after a moment’s silent stroking, his other hand moved to join the first. His claws lightly trailing against her scalp as they parted her hair, as she felt a warm finger brush against a decisively sore spot…
And before she could possibly stop it, Gwyn felt her breath catch in her throat, a hard shudder wrenching down her back. A movement that abruptly stilled the orc’s hands, while a peculiar awareness rippled through the air — and Gwyn bit her lip, and squeezed her eyes shut. This utter bastard, he needed to get the hell on with this, whatever the hell this evenwas, and…
And then he grasped at a large handful of hair, and —pulled. Gentle, but surely purposeful, enough to slightly yank Gwyn’s head back. Firing a fierce, exquisite thrill down her already-shivery spine, and her loud gasp escaped before she could stop it, in perfect time with the harsh hiss of breath from the orc above her.
Damn, damn,damn. Gwyn flinched all over, and belatedly made to jerk away from him, out of that too-aware touch — but of course he’d anticipated that, and his long fingers against her head had spread wide, holding her still. Sending another furious flare of heat down her back, and she couldn’t help a furtive, fearful glance up at his face. Fully expecting his mockery now, his judgement, his triumph…
But no. No, he was still just looking down at her, his head tilted sideways, while the oddest look sparked through his too-intent eyes. A look that might have been…comprehension. As though he suddenly understood something he hadn’t before, as though a question had been answered, a puzzle decisively solved.
Something dark and shameful was churning in Gwyn’s belly, and she felt her throat convulsively swallow, her eyes dropping back to the earth. And what the hell was she doing, why was she still here, why in the gods’ names had she ever,everagreed to this —
Until there was another abrupt, close movement, as the orc bent over her — and then the feel of a big hand curling against the nape of her neck. And then — Gwyn’s shiver wracked her entire body this time — she felt the sure, staggering touch of his warm mouth, kissing her tender scalp with soft, careful gentleness.
Gods, it felt good. And even more so when those claws again carded smoothly through her hair, his kiss giving way to that slick, licking tongue. But it all stayed careful this time, cautious, gentle. As if he didn’t want to go further, didn’t want to take advantage of what he’d just learned…
And gods curse her,condemnher, because Gwyn felt herself yank slightly away from him, tightening his grip on her hair. Sparking another furious flare of heat up her spine, even as the shame flashed and burned, as her head ducked even lower. And suddenly there was the jolting, overwhelming urge to spit at him, to rage at him, to leap up and run for her life —
But she did none of those things. Only stayed there in place, pinned and exposed, as the orc’s warm hand slid around to her chin, and tilted her face up. Snapping her blinking, ashamed eyes to his, her cheeks burning, her lips shamefully parting…
But again, there was no triumph in his eyes. No mockery. Only the quiet, steady intentness. Seeing.Knowing.
And with another smooth, silent movement, his still-stroking hand dropped from Gwyn’s hair, and reached for his trousers. His tight, straining trousers, streaked with visible dampness, directly before Gwyn’s wildly blinking eyes…
And oh, hell, he was doing this. Slipping down inside, easy and shameless, and bringing out —that. That swollen, jutting length of him, tall and grey and smooth, with those twin weights bulging out beneath.
And as Gwyn stared, her heart thundering in her ears, the orc’s long-fingered hand brazenly ran over them. Stroking them,flauntingthem, before sliding further up, and circling around that hard base of him. And then his hand slowly, smoothly dragged up, pumping himself, milking out a thick, glistening bead of white.
Damn. Gwyn’s groan was loud, desperate, utterly humiliating — but the orc’s other hand kept gripping against her chin, now giving it a meaningful little shake. Dragging her gaze up, wanting her to look at him, to drown in the truth of her shame…
“You like,” he murmured, low but sure, his black brows raised, his nostrils flaring. “You wish me to tend you. Ach?”
And gods, Gwyn couldn’t even argue. Couldn’t pretend to resist or refuse. Not with her lashes so desperately fluttering, her throat swallowing, her tongue flicking out to brush against her lips. Yes, she liked. Yes, she wished. To taste. To know. To be…tended?
“Yes,” she whispered. “Please, orc. Tend me.”
9
Wait. What the hell was Gwyn saying. What was shethinking. Tend me.Tendme?!
It was unbelievable, it was appalling, it was utter and completeabsurdity. He was an orc, he was supposed to be staying away from her forever, and he was — he was —
Growling. Yes, growling, low and steady and deep in his throat. Perhaps even more like a purr, as his big warm hand gently caressed Gwyn’s hot face, tilting her chin further upwards. While his other hand slid back into her hair, catching on a generous handful, tugging it back, oh, oh —
And as that beautiful flash of tension soared down her spine, the orc leaned forward. Not quite all the way, but just enough that the hard, slick, now-dripping head of him was nearly brushing her lips. And gods, the smell of him was everywhere, so rich and deep, and surely he was taunting her now, surely —
But his eyes upon her face were pure liquid black, somehow both shimmering and still. And then his growl suddenly broke off, as if he’d perhaps stopped breathing. In favour of just watching this, wanting this, craving it with just as much strength as she did —
The first lick of her tongue toward him was furtive, tentative, ashamed. Nudging with trembling, breathless uncertainty at that slicked smooth head — but oh, thetasteof him. Sparking across her tongue like sweet spring sap from a sugar maple, all slippery perfect wonder, swarming her from the inside out…
Her moan was hoarse, helpless, heavy with hunger — and gods, surely the orc was laughing now. But she didn’t look, didn’t even care, because he’d also eased further forward, jutting that slick, sweet head directly between her parted, gasping lips.
Fuck. Gwyn jolted at the shock of it, the truth of an orc’s prick kissing at her mouth, pulsing its sweetness inside her — and then, oh hell, she was sucking. Dragging him deeper, drinking him up, lavishing him with her tongue. Needing more of this, more of him, whatever he would give her…
