Page 62 of Protective Pucking Orc

When it finally faded, I collapsed forward, my forehead pressing against his shoulder, my breath ragged. “What the hell was that?”

His chuckle was dark, satisfied, his arms wrapping around me. “That’s what I was trying to warn you about,” he murmured, his lips brushing my temple. “An orc’s cock gifts his Mate with immediate pleasure. It’s part of our biology, to make the act smoother. More…enjoyable.”

I lifted my head, my cheeks flushed, my body still humming. “Good biology,” I breathed, leaning in to kiss him.

His mouth was hot, his tongue sweeping in to claim mine, his hands sliding up my back, holding me close. I rocked against him, my hips rolling, my pussy still clenching around his cock. The ridges dragged against my walls, each sending shudders through me.

His hands found my breasts again, rolling my nipples, tugging gently, his touch sending fresh waves of pleasure through me. I lifted slightly, then sank back down, his ridges dragging against my walls, his piercing hitting that spot inside me that made me gasp.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips trailing down my throat, his tusks scraping lightly. “So fucking strong. Look at you, riding me like this, taking your pleasure like a goddess.”

His praise sent a thrill through me, my body tightening, my hips moving faster. His hands slid down to grip my ass, guiding me, his fingers digging into my skin. The water sloshed around us, the steam tickling my skin, the heat of the water making my body even more sensitive.

His cock filled me, stretching me, each ridge dragging against my walls, his piercing an added sensation I couldn’t even process. I could feel the way my body opened for him, the way my walls fluttered around his thickness, my pussy already slick and aching from my first release. Orc biology had something going for it, I guess.

“Dakvaar—” My voice broke, my body coiling tight.

His hand slid between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing in tight circles. The dual sensations—his cock inside me, his fingers on my clit—sent me spiraling. His other hand gripped my ass, helping me rock on top of his cock.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough. “Come for me again, dkaar. Let me see you.”

His fingers circled my clit, his cock thrusting up into me, each ridge dragging against my walls. The water splashed around us, my thighs trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. His mouth found mine again, his tongue sweeping in to claim me, his tusks scraping my cheeks.

And then I was coming again.

My back arched, my orgasm crashing over me, my pussy clamping down around his cock. My nails dug into his shoulders, my body convulsing around him, my pussy milking him.

Dakvaar groaned wordlessly, and I could taste his pleasure.

So why hadn’t he moved at all?

I collapsed against him, my body boneless, my mind blissfully empty. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, his lips pressing kisses to my shoulder, my neck, the shell of my ear.

His cock was still rock hard inside me, but I could barely move. Why hadn’t he taken his pleasure? “Dakvaar?” I murmured, stirring against him.

“You were magnificent, Sofia.” His whisper was harsh, as if he was holding something back. “Thank you for that.”

“Thank you?” I lifted my head, reaching for him, cupping his face between my palms. “Thank you? Yet again, I got off, and you didn’t.”

His fingertips—the claws retracted, because he was also so gentle with me—dug into my ass. “You think I didn’t enjoy myself?”

I gave an experimental squeeze of my inner muscles—yay for Kegels, am I right?—and twitched a brow when his expression went suddenly, carefully blank. “I know you didn’t orgasm.”

“We’re in a hot tub. It would be unsanitary.”

I couldn’t help it; my smile burst out, and I lifted myself to press a kiss to his chin. “I love you, Dakvaar.”

He stilled. I stilled. We both sat there, frozen, me half-off his cock.

Finally, his fingers spasmed. “What?” he choked, and my grin grew.

“I love you, Dakvaar,” I repeated slowly. “Dkaar. Beloved. Mi querido.”

“Again,” he demanded, suddenly commanding as he sat up, pulling me with him. “Say it again.”

Gladly. As many times as he needed. “I love you, dkaar.”

“Mi querido,” he breathed, a moment before his lips crushed mine, and my heart soared to hear my language from him, and decided I could correct grammar later because we loved each other.