And Gwynknewfull well what he was doing, the bastard, but she still felt her throat swallow hard, her tongue reflexively brushing her lips. And in return Joarr chuckled, close in her ear, as his warm hand somehow found her bare knee beneath her skirts, and slowly, surely, began slipping upwards.
Gwyn twitched, her eyes again darting toward the room full of watching orcs — but in a breath, Joarr’s other hand snapped up to her face, and spread to cover her eyes. “No,” his hot voice hissed in her ear. “Me.Onlyme.”
The words had deepened to almost a growl, and somehow, Gwyn found herself jerking a short, furtive nod in return. Earning a slow exhale against her ear, an approving clutch of his claws against her bare thigh.
“You like,” he murmured, so soft — and ohhell, that was a gentle, purposeful nip ofteeth, against the skin of her earlobe. Firing a streak of damnable heat into her lower belly, followed by another low laugh in her ear, a slow slide upwards of that hand beneath her skirts…
“You hunger,” he whispered, as that wandering hand brushed at the join of her thighs, which were still pressed tightly together. Still safely concealed under the weight of her skirts, because Joarr hadn’t yet lifted them, or made even the slightest attempt to undress her. And there was a twitch of hazy gratefulness, a slow exhale of her own breath, perhaps even a tilt of her head toward his lingering mouth…
He rewarded it with another brush of teeth against her earlobe, harder this time. Making her entire body shiver, and his answering laugh felt like a shiver too, a ripple of silvery light in the darkness.
“You like,” he breathed again, as that audacious hand purposefully gripped her thigh, and slid it sideways. Opening her, exposing her for his touch — but Gwyn’s jolt of stillness was instantly chased by another gentle tug on her ear, a featherlight touch of claws against the parted, quivering heat between her legs.
“You wish for more,” he said, or perhaps taunted, as those sharp, deadly claws brushed against her, teasing their velvet threat against her most vulnerable places. “Wish me in you.”
Gwyn’s answering shudder wracked down her spine, and Joarr’s nip at her ear was even harder this time, just edging at pain. “Keep still,” he breathed. “Keep eyes upon me.Onlyme.”
Gwyn’s head was nodding, jerking against his other hand, still over her eyes — and after another bated breath, that hand slowly slid away. Bringing back the room, the watching orcs, him.
Butonlyhim, he’d ordered her, and her blinking eyes were already catching on his. Drinking up the heat in them, the hunger, theadventure.
And his smile was surely genuine this time, all quicksilver impishness and deadly white teeth. While his hand slipped down to the front of her dress — to her buttons — and with an easy flick of his claws, he deftly tugged the top button open.
Gwyn’s dazed eyes instantly froze on his, her breath catching — but then, curse the bastard, his claws still under her skirts traced her again. Slowly teasing up and down, lingering sharp and dangerous against her parted, frantically clenching heat…
“You undress,” he whispered, those eyes flashing light, “and I tend you.”
Tend her. Gwyn’s breath came in a shuddering gasp, a desperate flutter of eyelids. And Joarr’s devilish smile only twitched up more, his amused gaze pointedly dropping back to that row of buttons, all the way down the front of her dress.
Gwyn groaned aloud this time, but the bastard was relentless, his claws settling even closer, stroking her slightly harder. As if to sink inside her, just like this, oh hell — and somehow,somehow, her shivering fingers were skittering to her dress. Yanking open one button, and then the next, and the next, what was she doing, she couldn’t be doing this, she was…
Shewas. And her reward was already here, in those fingers nudging so careful against her, opening her, spreading her further apart. While a knee — his knee? — settled close beside hers, purposefully guiding it wider…
And by the time Gwyn’s trembling, traitorous fingers had finished unbuttoning her dress, Joarr’s lean, muscled body — still wearing his trousers — was kneeling on the stone between her thighs, his free hand whisking the dress fully aside. Moving so swiftly that she didn’t protest, perhaps didn’t even notice — at least, until she somehow found herself sprawled naked on her back, with a tall, shaggy-haired orc hovering over her on one arm, his other hand still toying between her legs.
Damn. Something hot and shameful was creeping up Gwyn’s bare chest, heating her neck and her cheeks. And suddenly the temptation to look at the room was almost overpowering, what did they see, what in the gods’ names was she doing —
But then, from above her, Joarrgrowled. The sound raw and rich and close, and when Gwyn blinked up, there was pure danger in those eyes on hers, in the command that she felt even before it escaped his lips.
“Me,” he hissed, the word rolling in his mouth, in her ringing ears. “In you.”
Ohhell, yes, and Gwyn was nodding, jerky and wild, her eyes furiously blinking — and then following Joarr’s other hand as it dropped, and shoved down his trousers. Releasing that long, powerful, swollen-solid hardness, jutting straight toward her over bulging bollocks, dripping a thick string of delectable white from its slit…
And the bastard was watching her look, hewantedher to look, and he made a show of drawing away from her, up onto his knees. So he could circle his other hand so shamelessly around it, pumping himself up firm and slow. Oozing out more thick white, dangling it down toward her…
“You like,” he breathed. “Wish to milk more from me. Drink me into you. Ach?”
And it was utter insolent arrogance, it wasabominable— but Gwyn couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t deny her head nodding,nodding, needing him, needing more…
“Yes,” she choked back. “Yes, Joarr.Please.”
There was another deep, guttural groan from his throat, a hiss of words in his incomprehensible black-tongue. And in another flashing rush of movement, he’d grasped for both her hips, and easily flipped her over on the soft stone. So that Gwyn was on her hands and knees on the altar, facing toward the crackling fire, her cheeks flooding with its steady warmth.
And behind her, she could feel Joarr’s body shifting, rising up — and then, oh hell,that. That slick, dripping-wet hardness, nudging its smooth head just up against her open, clutching heat.
Gwyn cried out, loud and shameful, and behind her Joarr actually laughed, his delving heft vibrating with the movement — but before she could turn, look, follow that, she felt both his hands gripping her arse-cheeks, pulling her wider apart. Perhaps exposing her more for his eyes, for the room’s eyes, and even as she shuddered with shame, the heat rolled higher, hotter. Her greedy body shivering and clamping, as if indeed fighting to drink him, to milk him, to swallow him whole…
And then, as if she’d shouted her thoughts aloud, Joarr sank inside. Carving into her in one single, fluid stroke, plunging himself to the hilt. Hurling a sheer, shouting furor down Gwyn’s back, across her eyes, and she felt her whole body desperately arching up, the shout tearing from her throat —
