Page 45 of Protective Pucking Orc

Who did this to you?

He’d placed himself between me and danger. And this male, who never showed emotion, had flung out his claws, thrown his head back, and roared at Anthony. He’d struck my ex-husband, knocking him down in a way I’d never seen anyone do to Anthony before, and in that moment, my relief had been so great my knees had gone weak.

Dakvaar would protect us. Not just from Anthony, but from all the bad parts of life.

Just look at how my daughter had thrived this week!

So I slowly nodded, having to swallow twice to get my voice to work semi-normally. “Rosa…Rosa will have fun on the bus, I think.”

It wasn’t until he exhaled and his shoulders slumped that I realized he’d been holding his breath, wondering what I would say. Well, I’m glad I said the right thing, judging by the softening around his eyes.

When he reached for the pan in the sink once more, I found myself watching his hands.

His touch was so gentle, so domestic. Doing dishes, turning the pages of a hardback classic… When he took my wrist, stroking the skin to make sure the bruises were healing. When he brushed Rosa’s hair, his claws extending just enough to deal with the tangles…

What would it feel like to have those hands on me? To have him stroke my skin in more intimate ways? To put that ridged tongue to good use?

I shuddered and squeezed my thighs together to hide the sudden burst of heat between them. I saw Dakvaar’s movements freeze, saw his nostrils flare, and remembered what he’d said about his sense of smell.

I fled the kitchen.

And later, after I’d crawled into bed beside my daughter, I flopped back against the pillows with a frustrated sigh. A sexually frustrated sigh.

When I’d come to Dakvaar’s house, I’d been sick and injured. He probably thought of me as a burden, just someone he had to protect. I shouldn’t be lusting after him. I shouldn’t be considering going to have another shower, just because the showerhead had some epic vibrating settings I could make very good use of.

I shouldn’t be considering masturbating while thinking about my friend, who’d been nothing but kind⁠—

Remember his hard on?

Oh.

Right.

With a quiet groan, I sat up in bed again, squeezing my eyes shut, even as my mouth flooded with saliva and my pussy flooded with arousal.

The memory of Dakvaar’s sweatpants bulging like that told me that he was big all over, and I wondered what his cock would look like. What it would feel like.

I owed him. I owed him so much. Maybe a little fucking would a) wipe the slate clean and b) scratch this itch I couldn’t seem to get rid of.

Maybe you ought to go masturbate in the shower.

Right.

That was probably safer, when it came to my heart.

I pushed myself to my feet and reached for the hem of my t-shirt, yanking it over my head. I emerged just in time to hear Dakvaar’s soft tread in the hallway. I held my breath as he halted outside the door, frozen in the act of removing my shirt.

He just stood there, outside my closed door, and I knew he was listening.

Listening to me.

He’d done it every night I’d slept here, even after he quit keeping guard outside my door. He stopped by my room to check on me—on us—before going to bed himself, the same way he checked that all the doors and windows were locked.

He was protecting us.

When he finally moved on, surprisingly silent for such a big guy, I felt myself exhale. He was protecting us, caring for us, providing for us…

And I could repay him.