For a moment, I felt something shift between us—like a thread pulled taut finally easing. I didn’t understand it, not fully. But when Kof exhaled, a sound that was half-sigh, half-growl, the tension left his body. He let go—not of me, but of whatever had been holding him apart. “You smell like sulfur now.”
I flinched. If it was pungent to me—
“It’s good,” he said quickly. “The stink of larkwood is gone.”
Of all the things to have in common…the feeling of being boxed away was something I never thought I’d share. He’d been only a boy. And while his captivity was nowhere near as lengthy as mine, it was just as brutal…and delivered by the hand of his own father.
It seemed Kof and I shared something that went beyond man and orc.
His massive hands cupped my jaw with unexpected gentleness, and he gave a shaky exhale as he lowered his face to the crook of my neck. The sensation of his tusks against my throat sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through me, and I tilted my head back, baring my throat. Vulnerability felt foreign to me now. But I knew in my gut that I could trust Kof like no other.
His lips brushed against my pulse point, and I leaned into the slick of his tongue as he tasted my skin. His tusks trailed over my body, smooth and warm, as his mouth explored my neck, my collarbone, the curve of my chest. My nipple went taut and a small sound escaped me. His lips closed around the pebbled hardness—and it wasn’t just the suction that made my cock jerkand weep, but the feel of those massive tusks trailing down my body. He followed with his big, spear-roughened hands, which were gentle. Not surprising, given his typical restraint.
When his fingers reached the waistband of my breeches, he hesitated for just a moment before tugging them down, exposing me to the warm air of the cave. He took a deep whuff, drawing in the musk of my arousal with an almost reverent hunger.
He nuzzled his way down my groin, leaving a wet trail in his wake with lips and tongue. My cock rose to meet him, and I felt his breath ghosting over my sensitive shaft. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I waited for what would come next.
I reached out to touch his face, to reassure him that I wanted this—wantedhim—and he caught my hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to my palm. Then he lowered his head, and his mouth closed around my hard cock.
It didn’t quite feel like a human mouth. His teeth were no sharper than any others that had scraped along my shaft, but the mouth itself was broader. Deeper. And far, far hotter.
And then he sucked.
I gasped, and my fingers tightened into fists as I fought the urge to thrust upward into the heat of his mouth. Kof’s hands were firm on my hips, holding me in place as he worked his way up and down my shaft with excruciating deliberation.
I was lost in the sensation of his mouth, of being wanted—finally, fully—but then he pulled away.
And reached for the vial.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless.
His voice was low, unreadable. “I’m claiming you.”
Panic scraped the edge of the pleasure still humming in me. I sat up halfway, trying to catch his gaze. “You can’t,” I said. “You’d tear me apart.”
He slicked his hand with the oil that had numbed my wrenched shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
I swallowed…and nodded.
He echoed my nod. “Some things only seem impossible…until you find the way.”
Of course I knew just how big he was. Back in our snow cave, I could barely circle my hand around him. Even sliding between my things, he’d felt impossibly huge. But impossibility was my reality now. I’d slipped Pilgrim’s grasp. And I’d survived.
Careful of my bound shoulder, Kof eased me into position on his footlocker, face down, spread firmly over the curved lid. And then an oily finger trailed down the cleft of my arse.
I gasped when it breached me. Not because the feeling was rough, or even unexpected. But because it had been such a long time since I’d let anyone touch me that way—and I’d never dared hope that if I did again, I’d actually enjoy it. Dread had been my constant companion, me wondering whether it would be Pilgrim finally breaking his own toy, or encouraging the rest of his men to have their way with me for the pleasure of watching me break.
But now, against all odds, I wanted it.
The oil tingled. And when I let myself give over to the sensation, I realized the tingle made everything rush down to the point of contact. Where I expected numbness, instead I found atantalizing warmth that hinted at something I wasn’t sure I was ready for…but craved all the same.
“No one will touch what I’ve claimed,” he murmured.
I should’ve been angry at the idea. I should’ve fought it.
But, so help me, I canted my hips to encourage him.
And then something far bigger than a finger prodded my slick hole. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Relax,” he rumbled in that deep, low voice.
