Gwyn’s gasp nearly choked her throat, a full-body shudder rippling her to stillness. Because this wasn’t his hand, wasn’t a precursor or a tease. No, this was alreadythat, slick and hard and demanding. Its smooth head nudging her apart, opening her around it, seeking its way inside.
Gwyn shuddered again, her body clamping tight against him, halting him there — and gods, he was somuch, even just slightly jutted inside her like this. Stretching her so wide apart, invading her softness with his solid, uncompromising heat, swelling even fuller against her…
Gwyn’s gasp almost escaped her mouth this time, but Joarr’s warm hand clamped back over it, quick and meaningful. His eyes still gleaming, still speaking of amusement and anticipation, his head giving a slow, purposeful shake.
Be quiet, woman, it meant,whilst I take you.
More heat streaked to Gwyn’s already-convulsing groin, clamping it tighter against that jutting head — but she somehow nodded, sharp and fervent against his hand.I know. Don’t stop.
His grin flashed white, the sight again clutching at Gwyn’s belly, wrenching her closer. Even as she froze again at the sound of another man’s voice, almost directly beneath them.
“Any sign of him?” it called. “Should we come back that way?”
Gwyn’s heart thundered louder, her fingernails digging deeper into Joarr’s bare back, but his eyes on hers kept glimmering, hungry, fearless. And those eyes kept holding hers, that hand flexing over her mouth, as his hardness swelled again, and then slowly, surely, pushed inside.
Fuck. It was beautiful torture, exquisite agony, her still-inflamed heat once again crushed open around a piercing, plunging orc. An orc who didn’t care if she was wildly shivering against him, her nails dragging at his back, her mouth gasping into the press of his strong hand. Because no, that was still only hunger in his eyes, only triumph, as he finally sank all the way inside her, settling her bare, swollen, split-open groin tight against his.
She felt his exhale rather than heard it, his breath hot and sweet against her face. His hand clenching on her arse as he ground his hips against her, wrenching her deeper, dragging another choked, desperate gasp from her still-covered mouth.
And he liked that too, his lashes fluttering, his lips parting — and when the men below shouted again, still far too close, Gwyn felt another exhale of his breath, harsh against her skin. And then an unmistakable flare of challenge across his eyes as that hand on her arse gripped tighter, drawing him out, leaving her trembly and empty in his wake…
But then he sank back in, smoother this time, faster. His hooded eyes still watching Gwyn as he did so, his hand tightening on her mouth. Perhaps testing her, taunting her, seeing if she would stay quiet, how much she would take…
But this time she bit back her gasp, pressing it down into the convulsive shivering of her body impaled upon him — and yes, that was surely approval, answering on his face. And when he dragged out again, his thrust back inside was even faster, harder, smoother, driving Gwyn full and deep upon him.
But somehow she still kept quiet, now biting at her lip behind his hand. And his approval came in a very slight smile this time, as he held her pinned against him, circling his hips, making her feel it, perhaps even rewarding her —
The men’s voices were calling again, but perhaps now from further away, and of course Joarr took full advantage, dragging out, and plunging back inside in one deep, devastating stroke. Hard enough to shake Gwyn all over, nearly rattling her teeth, but she only bit her lip harder, choked back her scream into her throat —
And yes, that was more approval, more greed, kindling bright in his gleaming eyes — and he slipped his hand away from Gwyn’s mouth, and instead grasped a thick, careful handful of herhair. Pulling back just enough to expose her neck, while she seized and flailed upon him, her eyes shocked and wide and staring, he wouldn’t, he — he —
He was. Slamming deep and deadly inside her, again and again, that hand gently yanking at her hair with every thrust. Whirling up a roaring, rioting mass of light and sheer sensation, her entire body struck and scrabbling upon him. Silently shouting at him, raging at him, her teeth biting so hard that the tang of blood filled her mouth.Don’t stop you asshole, don’t stop, more more more—
The ecstasy flashed like a flood, blazing beneath Gwyn’s trampling skin, bubbling and burning for escape. Consuming every last drop of her willpower in the charge to stay silent, to not betray this, pierced and clamped and arching upon an orc, her rapture raging to the sky —
And then it was Joarr arching, his throat and teeth bared, his hand in Gwyn’s hair yanking hard enough to be painful. And that driving heft inside her suddenly locked to shuddering stillness, buried as deep as it would go — and then, ohhell, it released. Surging out pulse after pulse of hot molten euphoria, flooding her with the pure power of his hunger, his approval. Of his bright, burningtriumph, fused and sealed within her, reborn again as one. As…hers.
She could feel her conquered, swollen heat still clutching against him, as if milking him, dragging out every last drop — and him silently answering, squeezing it out, wringing himself dry. His head tilted back, his eyes closed, his throat bobbing, his jaw sharp and striking in the dappled sunlight.
And when it finally ended, Gwyn couldn’t move, couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t breathe. Could only wait, and watch, and feel the truth of him still inside her, his hard strength slowly softening. His breaths silently heaving through his chest against her, his hand releasing her hair — and then even giving her head a quick, almost apologetic caress.
And then, finally, were his eyes. His hazy, unguarded eyes, blinking back to hers again. And speaking, so bare and clear, of his deep satisfaction, his approval, his triumph.Ach, yes. Well done, woman.
Gwyn felt herself sag against him — had she perhaps been expecting his censure, his distance? — and belatedly released her tooth’s still-sharp bite on her lip. Scarcely even noticing as a trickle of blood slipped down her chin, but Joarr’s eyes immediately dropped to it, his body tensing against hers —
And before she’d even seen him move, his mouth was there. Brushing heated and eager against her bloody lip, his tongue lingering at the wound with astonishing gentleness. And gods, he smelled good, tasted so good, so close — and when Gwyn’s own traitorous tongue slipped out, perhaps to test this, to meet this, he instantly met her in return. His kiss long and languorous, his slippery tongue twining against hers, easing her into his warm mouth —
And curse her, but it was that, of all things, that drew the low, betraying moan from Gwyn’s throat. Not loud, not piercing — but still enough that Joarr utterly froze against her, his head and his kiss whipping away, his full attention fixed toward the east. Toward the…men.
“Did you hear that?” came one of their voices, far too audible in the twirling, crackling silence. “Came from this way.”
No.No. Gwyn’s body was shivering again, gooseflesh breaking out on her arms, her breaths heaving in harsh little pants — and Joarr spun back toward her, his brow furrowing. And in another flash of movement, his hand had tightly clasped over her mouth again, his eyes sharp with warning.
Be silent, they said.Be still.
Gwyn didn’t even dare a nod, but just held those eyes with her own, her body locked tight against him. Waiting, waiting, as the men’s steps crunched closer, and with them the distinctive sound of snuffling, sniffing dogs.
“Any sign of him?” one of the voices asked. “There was definitely a noise around here.”
