“Wait,” she gasped, as a distant trickle of awareness edged into her thoughts, just in time. “I can’t. I’m —”
She held out her sticky, shaky hand toward him, showing him how it was coated with fresh, dripping white seed. With the certain risk of hisson, damn it. And she could see the awareness flashing through his eyes too, chased by a brief, unmistakable relief.
“Ach,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. “No. Even if you wash it off, some may yet remain. Thus —”
“Then… you do it,” Geva heard herself whisper, impossible,appalling. But she was already stepping closer toward him in the basin, almost near enough to touch… and her sticky, shivering fingers had brushed at his wrist, above his dry hand. Feeling how it shifted forward, into her touch. Wanting this.
And gods, she wanted it too, the furious longing spinning so strong it was consuming all sense, all reason. And when Rathgarr’s eyes flicked open again, hot and blazing on hers, he was right there with her, his head jerking a hard nod, his long black tongue again brushing his parted lips.
So Geva guided that big, warm, willing hand toward her, until those fingers nudged against the dark hair between her thighs. Their touch soft and careful — he’d even drawn his claws back in — and she shifted her stance a little wider, easing him lower. Until his warm solid palm was pressed against the curve of her, his big fingers slipping willingly, almost eagerly, beneath.
Oh, it was good, it was that perfect combination of hard pressure and teasing gentleness, and Geva’s eyes fluttered, her head arching back, as she pressed him closer. As her audacious other hand slid back up to her spattered-wet breast, streaking the seed against it, just as he’d asked.
That was another growl from his throat, rasping and breathless, his ravenous eyes sweeping between Geva’s hand stroking her seed-smeared breasts, and his own hand seeking between her legs. His palm grinding harder, his fingers delving deeper, as if wanting to sink inside…
“Clever thinking, poppet,” he breathed, his voice catching. “This shall help, also. With the scent.”
Yes, yes, of course, that made perfect sense — and Geva felt herself almost preening as she rapidly nodded, circling his palm a little tighter against her, shuddering out more whirling pleasure. And then, in another unthinkable flash of daring, she released her grip on his wrist, in favour of smearing both hands against her sticky breasts.
Rathgarr hissed another low, approving growl, and his hard palm kept circling, with the exact same speed and pressure she’d shown him. Even as those fingers teased lower, closer, until one settled justthere, nudging light and tentative at first, but slowly sinking, deepening…
Geva’s gasp was more like a shout, her hot, inflamed body frantically clamping against his thick, steady, beautiful invasion. Against him inside her, sinking even deeper, oh, oh…
Her own hands faltered, lost in the impossible tightening tension between her legs — but then they twitched, and began caressing even faster, rubbing him in all over. Smoothing over her slick breasts, slipping down to her belly and thighs, and even up to her neck and shoulders. And in return, it was as though he couldn’t decide where to look, his eyes darting between his hand against her crease, her hands streaking in his seed, her breasts now fully coated in shiny sweetness, dripping white from her peaked nipples…
“Ach, thus,” Rathgarr breathed, heated and low. “Cover yourself in me. Make yourselfreekof me, whilst you tremble andwhimperupon my touch. Ach, thus, woman,ach—”
Oh hell, that was it, that wasit— and Geva’s coiling pleasure sparked, and exploded. Flashing and flaring through her groin in pulse after desperate pulse, clamping in furious rhythmic clutches against that finger sunk so deep inside her. Sweeping away all her vision, all her breath, leaving only arching wheeling sensation, devouring her, destroying her…
And wait, wait, there wasmore. More of that shocking spattering sweetness, streaking warm across her breasts and her belly. Because oh, Rathgarr’s other hand wasstillpumping his bared length, and he was again spurting out, painting her with yet more thick strings of fresh white. Not nearly as strong as before, but still there, still hers,hers.
This time, Geva’s hand found it, streaked it wide — and then brought it to her mouth. Slipping her dripping-wet fingers between her swollen-feeling lips, and tasting it. So sweet, so succulent, even richer than before. And oh, he liked it, he wanted it, his eyes wide and arrested as he watched, as his hand between her legs kept stroking, caressing up and down her slick crease with an almost proprietary gentleness. Almost as if he were petting her, approving of her,rewardingher,oh—
But then, without warning, he was —gone. Gone, whipping out of her, away from her, whirling around so fast his cloak flew in a sweeping black arc behind him. Almost catching against where Geva was still standing there, alone and gasping and untouched in the bath, but for the mess of sweet-scented stickiness covering her, and her own finger still caught in her mouth.
Oh. She dropped the finger, and felt herself blinking and biting her lip, her gaze darting up and down Rathgarr’s back beneath his cloak. His huge, heaving back, gone forbidding, distant, cold again.
“That ought to be enough for now,” he said, the words quick, clipped. “You may bathe now.”
Right. A stark, bitter chill was snaking up Geva’s spine, tangled with a strange, stilted awareness. Right.Right. To him, this had only been about…that. About the scent. The job. And that was all.
And as she was still digesting that, standing there in the chilly humiliating misery, Rathgarr lurched away, toward the door. He was leaving — leaving?! — and Geva couldn’t choke back the yelp in her throat, the way her still-sticky hand reached out after him.
“Where — are you going?” she stammered at his stiff back. “You’re not —leaving?”
But Rathgarr didn’t turn around, didn’t even glance toward her. And his big hand — the same hand that had just touched her, had beeninsideher — had already grasped for the latch, and yanked the door open.
“Ach,” he said, his voice hard. “Our work here is done for the night, and you did not wish to share a bed with an orc, ach? I shall meet you again come morning.”
And with that, he strode out the door, and slammed it shut behind him.
10
Geva barely slept that night.
It was as though the previously innocuous inn had turned into something dark and menacing, even with the room’s heavy door firmly latched, and the lamp still flickering a soft light onto the solid wood walls. And every time she heard a sound in the corridor, her heart leapt in her chest, her ears straining to listen, her eyes fixed on the door.
But it never opened. Rathgarr was gone. Until morning, he’d said.
