And surely — surely he even meant that, because there wasn’t a trace of arrogance or triumph in his eyes. Only an odd, quavering intensity, as his warm hand reached to stroke down Gwyn’s front, trailing from her shoulder to her breast to her belly, his long clawed fingers lingering, spreading wide over her navel.
“You like too,” he said, still with that tenuous uncertainty on his mouth. “Ach?”
She blinked back at him, and found herself numbly nodding, and maybe even attempting a smile. Needing to see him smile too, somehow, and yes, there it was, tugging rueful at the corner of his mouth.
Her stomach flipped, fluttering in her belly, and she felt her own smile broaden, her fingers closing over his against her waist. “I don’t suppose,” she began, waving her other hand down toward the mess, “we could have a bath?”
Joarr’s lips quirked again, and he reached to grasp her hand, easing them both up to standing. An action that instantly worsened the mess by multiple degrees, streaming it down her thighs, sweetening the air with its scent.
Gwyn’s face burned even hotter, her mouth grimacing — and before her, Joarr actually winced too, his eyes intent on hers. “Is this pain?” he asked, his voice sharp. “You need herbs? Or my tongue?”
The sudden, powerful vision of that somehow sparked even more hunger in her belly — surely she was not already eager to goagain? — and she heard herself bark a laugh, her hands rubbing at her hot face.
“I just — the bath would be lovely for now, thanks,” she said. “And besides, you surely don’t want to go there right now. With your tongue, I mean.”
She grimaced again, shot him a chagrined half-smile — and his grin back was wolfish, dangerous, gleaming. “You wish to test me on this?” he purred. “You ken I draw no joy from this truth of my seed upon you?Withinyou?”
Gwyn’s breath choked in her throat, the hunger pooling harder, and she had to scramble for thoughts, words. “Later, you messy menace,” she managed. “Bath.”
He laughed at that, but accordingly nudged her toward the north side of the garden, against the mountain’s sheer stone. Toward the little waterfall he’d shown her the day before, pouring down the side of the mountain, and gathering in a small stream below.
“Oh, gods, yes,” Gwyn gasped, and instantly waded in. The stream was only up to her knees, and the water was bitterly cold — but it still felt utterly glorious, and she promptly set to scrubbing, cleaning the morning’s mess away.
Joarr had been standing slightly to the side, unmoving, watching her with entirely unreadable eyes. But when Gwyn reflexively jerked her head toward the water — saying, again,come— he inclined his own head, and shucked his trousers to the earth.
And for a frozen, stolen instant, it occurred to Gwyn, far too late, that she’d never actually seen him fully undressed before. There had always been those ever-present trousers, hanging off his hips, hiding at least part of him away. And now — she stepped slightly out of the streaming water, in order to better blatantly stare — it was just…him. All smooth grey skin and lean rippled muscle, his shaggy hair brushing his shoulders, his face stark in the light of the rising sun.
And further down, that heft at his groin was casting stark shadows too. Already bobbing out half-hard toward her, and swelling even fuller as he came a fluid, graceful step closer.
Gwyn didn’t even try to hide her gasp this time, and didn’t look away, either. And when Joarr flashed her one of those sly grins, and stepped into the pool, she immediately reached for him, and drew him close.
“Thought you wish for later,” he purred, taunting, mocking — but gods, Gwyn didn’t even care. And when she shoved down on his shoulders, shameless,appalling, he dropped with instant, insolent ease, his eyes glittering on hers as he thrust her thighs apart.
It led to her standing on one foot under a waterfall, with her other leg hitched on an orc’s bare wet shoulder, while he once again buried his face between her legs. That long tongue slurping and slithering up inside, dragging out her gasps and shouts, her body trembling, her hands fisting tight in his hair. Until the release screamed over her, for the second time in one damned morning, so strong that she nearly lost her balance, and toppled into the water below.
But Joarr was far too quick, his hands instantly snapping to catch her waist, holding her steady until she found her footing again. And without even thinking, Gwyn dropped her own still-trembly hands down to that heft at his groin, and milked it with fast, forceful strokes until he was the one gasping, and spurting out all over her breasts and belly.
This time, she couldn’t seem to find the slightest shame in it — especially not with the water pouring over them like this, already washing it away. And before it could all disappear, she even found herself catching a thick drop on her shaky finger, and slipping it into her mouth. Revelling in its hot, slippery sweetness, and in the way Joarr’s eyes instantly darkened as he watched.
“Witch woman,” he murmured, and Gwyn actually heard herself laugh, the sound surprisingly warm and bright in the sparkling morning sun. And perhaps she would have even started all over again, if there hadn’t been a loud, unmistakable scraping noise, coming from the mountain behind them.
It was the stone door opening, damn it — and Gwyn leapt out of the waterfall at once, lunging for the new clothes Joarr had brought. While he too tugged on his trousers, shaking the water from his hair like a dog, and then strode for the door.
The sound of speaking voices soon revealed that this new arrival was Stella, come to see the garden, as she’d promised. And when Gwyn went to greet her, still smoothing out her clean new dress, Stella was blinking uneasily up at Joarr, her dark eyes looking even more tired than before.
“Thank you so much for having me,” she was saying. “I do apologize for Silfast’s absence, but he had several crucial commitments that he just couldn’t —”
“Ach, ach,” Joarr interrupted, with obvious impatience, and Gwyn gave him a surreptitious elbow in the side as she stepped forward, smiling at Stella’s wan face.
“We’re so glad you came,” she said warmly. “Now, where should we begin? Perhaps with a tour?”
Stella returned this with a relieved smile, but beside them Joarr was still looking distinctly unsettled, his mask already slipping over his eyes. Enough that Gwyn slid her hand up and down his back, and even squeezed his firm rear end, almost as if to…comforthim?
“I know Joarr had some work to finish up this morning too,” she said. “So perhaps I’ll take you around, Stella. And Joarr, we’ll ask you if we have any questions, all right? And we certainly won’t change anything without consulting with you first.”
That seemed to help somewhat — Gwyn could feel him slightly relaxing against her — and he even patted her arse in return before turning and stalking off. Leaving her alone with Stella, who truth be told, was looking rather relieved, too.
“Well, let’s get started,” Gwyn said, as brightly as she could. “And just let me know if you need a break at any point, all right?”
