“Please, Rathgarr,” she breathed, her body easing closer. “Come to me.”
And yes, she could hear his breath catch, could feel his hard, full-body shiver against her — and then his hand jerked forward, clamped rigid and clammy around her wrist. Flaring sheer, shuddering relief up her arm, all down her own trembling body, because he was touching her, he was here again, with her again. And she didn’t even pretend to resist as he drew her hand closer, guiding it around to his front, pressing it… oh. There. Between his legs.
It still felt soft and uninterested beneath the trousers, but instead of feeling insulted, like she had last time, Geva felt her breath quickening, her heartbeat picking up speed. Her hand willingly caressing him there, stroking, lingering, feeling him faintly shudder in return.
But damn it, it needed more, she needed to do this properly — and before she’d even realized it, she was fumbling at his belt, unfastening it, yanking the trousers downwards. And yes, there he was, still soft and slack in her fingers — but already she was stroking again, caressing, meeting him as he was.Awaken me. Seek to wield all your wiles to soften me. To tempt out my good seed toward you…
Rathgarr’s breaths had begun to deepen, the focus now shifting in and out of his eyes, so Geva kept touching, just the way he’d taught her. Gentle and careful at first, and then as he slowly shuddered and swelled, moving harder, firmer, smoother. Feeling him awaken in her fingers, responding to her, rewarding her. And the hunger of it, the power of it, felt almost dizzying, stunning, swirling the dim room around her —
And suddenly she was spinning, too. Whirling around beneath the grip of big, powerful hands, hands that were turning her away from him. So she was facing toward the stone wall, while behind her, Rathgarr was…
There. Here. Aware. His body huge and warm and close, his hips grinding hard and purposeful against her arse. His hands sliding down to her hips, gripping her skirts, yanking them up, so he could —
“Oh,” Geva gasped, as she felt his long, breathtaking hardness settling against her bare crease. As it began stroking up and down, easing itself deeper between with every cant of his hips — and oh, she could feel the liquid smoothing and slicking his strokes, could smell that telltale sweetness in the suddenly thick-feeling air. And she shuddered all over as those strokes kept deepening, oh hell — but now drawing away, and angling even lower. Lower than they’d ever gone before, because…
She startled at the sound — thefeel— of him kicking at one of the low benches, pulling it over with his boot, positioning it between them on the floor. And then — Geva choked — he lifted her up onto it, settling her feet onto the solid wood. And then he swiftly spread her legs wide apart, tilting her upper body forward, toward the wall before them. Meaning that she was raised up and bent over for him, fully exposed and opened for him, so he could —
“Ohhh,” Geva groaned again, her hands now flat to the wall, as that hard, relentless ridge now slid long and slow between her spread thighs, dragging along the full length of her open, pulsing heat. Against where he’d never touched her like this before, not with that, ever — and she could feel her slick, hungry body clutching at him, kissing at him, as he slowly slid past. And then he did it again, and again, vibrating harder and fuller against her with every stroke…
And when he bent her a little further forward, and let himself notch, just there, just into her wet waiting sheath, Geva shuddered and moaned, her back arching, her body eagerly angling out toward him. Holding him there, wanting him there, he couldn’t stop, not now, please…
“Please,” she choked, straining for him, begging for him. “Please, Rathgarr.”
There was a harsh, hitching exhale behind her, a clench of his hands on her hips, settling closer — and then he bore down. Pressed in. Slid that hard, throbbing strength slow and deep inside her, breath by agonizing breath. The movement so smooth, so easy, parting her willing clenching hunger around him, piercing her full of firm, rigid flesh. And firing out swarms of impossible heat, of pleasure, leaving her helplessly trembling and gasping as he pushed in more and more and more, there couldn’t possibly still be more left, there was somuchof him, he was — he was —
There. There. Sunk all the way inside her, his hips pressed to her thighs, his heavy bollocks bulging full and close. Just holding there, jutting strong and deep inside, while Geva writhed and whimpered and gasped, stuck whole and firm and unrepentant upon a huge, hungry orc.
“G-good, poppet,” came his husky voice behind her, as his hips ground harder, closer. Even circling a little, shifting that rigid pole inside her, wanting to make her feel it, make her thrash and moan upon it. “I had hoped you could swallow all of me, ach?”
He’d hoped. Oh, gods, he’d hoped, he’dthoughtabout this, and Geva moaned and nodded, her body gripping back upon him, clutching at him, craving him, like she’d never craved anything in her life.
“Yes,” she whispered back, desperate. “All of you, Rathgarr.”
His growl was dark, approving, alive, his hips circling deeper, his big warm hands spreading wider on her bare flanks. “Yes,” he repeated, breathless. “Good. And now…”
Geva strained to hear him, waiting, her heartbeat hammering, her breaths sharp and short, her body convulsively pulsing upon him with every gasp. “And now?”
A long, sustained shudder inside her, a heated laugh from behind. “And now,” he said, deeper, steadier, “I shall finally fuck you, my sweet.”
Geva’s moan was frantic, hopeless, her head vehemently nodding — and he was already drawing out, slow, smooth, stunning. Dragging it on, making her wait, because now, now he was going to —
His sharp slam inside felt like light, like a revelation, like the entire world flashing white behind Geva’s fluttering eyes. Like an empty, echoing ache finally filled, finally alive again, sparked and sustained by the deep driving thrusts of a hungry, powerful orc. By him making her his, in a way he’d never done before, filling her and feeding her and stoking the flame. Plunging in again and again, whipping it higher and hotter between them, his breaths rough and guttural, hers rising to choked, frantic moans. And then breaking into shouts as his hand slid around her front, found her, hurled one last breath on the flame —
Geva’s release flashed raw and staggering, ripping through her in a burst of fierce, blazing brightness. Clamping her again and again on the solid strength still filling her, feeding her — when suddenly it was erupting, too. Blasting out deep inside her with sharp, shattering surges, flooding and dousing her with wave after wave of molten heat.
Geva trembled all over as she took it, met it, welcomed it. As her own echoing shudders kept rippling through her, melding and fusing with his, milking out that liquid surging heat in long, lingering clutches. Until the blaze slowly, softly faded, settling into something shivery, almost sweet.
She could feel the shaky heave of Rathgarr’s exhale, his hands spasming against her hips. And even though she was already expecting it, dreading it, she winced at the feel of his softening strength drawing out, away. Until it fully dropped from her with a slick-sounding pop, and — Geva winced again — that liquid heat poured out after it, splattering on the bench and the floor beneath her.
Her face was burning, now, her eyes squeezing shut, her body trembling, waiting, until it finally slowed into a thick, oozing trickle. And Rathgarr had exhaled again, his hands clenching tighter on her hips, before she felt him stepping away, leaving her leaking, exposed, untouched.
“I — I did not think — to bring a rag,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Should you wait here for a short spell, I shall go fetch one.”
Right. Geva’s face was still flaming, something plummeting in her belly, but she swallowed hard, and nodded. And then she could hear him walking away, could hear the faint rustle of fabric as he went, because of course he’d been dressed throughout all that,again. And when he came back, would he offer her a coin, too? Maybe a bonus, for her foresight in now making this kind of pleasure possible, too?
She heard herself groan at the thought, and leaned heavier against the wall, buried her face in the crook of her arm. No.No. This was still just a job. Just about the coin. And knowing all of Rathgarr’s horrible history didn’t change a thing, did it? He’d been so clear, again and again and again, and gods, even with that apology of his last night, she still knew how he truly felt, didn’t she? One month — three weeks — and then the sea.
It was at least enough to hold Geva’s body steady and silent as Rathgarr came back in, as she felt the careful brush of a damp cloth against her upper thigh. Wiping up in firm, gentle strokes, mopping the wetness away.
