Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“Come here.” I lift her and place her to sit facing me, gathering her hair in my grip as she gasps and I crush her lips against mine.
Her eyes shut as our lips work to know each other. It feels natural for my tongue to explore hers, both of my tongues, and her body heats under my grasp, softening as wonderful chirping and moaning sounds vibrate in her throat.
She begins to squirm on my lap, her tongue twisting and playing with mine as she gives herself to me freely and I’m losing control.
I want her like I have never known wanting before.
“You are mine.” I growl as she pulls away, her chest rising and falling. “I smell your need for me. It is warm and wet against me. Even through the cloth between us, I feel your heat.”
The storm rages above and inside of me. I will claim her, if not today, in time. I will never stop until she is full of me, dripping with me, round with what I will put inside her.
I rock her body against my aching length, the mud from our chase is drying and falling off, making dirt and friction between us.
“Kind of itchy.” She crinkles her nose on a whisper.
“Does it bother you?”
She shrugs, then nods. “Yes. It sort of does, maybe I can take a shower? Then—” Another shrug, then she adds, “Maybe we can take a shower…together.”
My world lights up and I’m on my feet, carrying her on my hip like a child as she quips and laughs, her hands circling my neck. She kisses my shoulder as I roam to the doors at the back of the room, opening one, then the other, to find a large space with a human-sized commode, but luckily, an enormous open shower, but no bathtub.
“Orcs bathe. We do not shower.”
She wiggles down off my hip, walking to the wall and turning the knob, then another and another until three sprays of water fill the large open concrete shower space.
“Well, there’s a bench, you can just watch then, but might be more fun to join in. Your choice.”
I strip my leather and throw it through the door. She leaves the strips of white fabric that cover her ripe breasts and her lower region in place, but soon enough she will show me all of her. If she is reticent, I will not push her.
Not yet.
My erection is thick and tall, the lower member pulsing and pumping back and forth. I do know that when the female is ripe and fertile, there is a green glow that will happen. I will save any spend until this happens but I can still take pleasure without emptying my balls. This I will save until I am deep into my mate’s center, against the opening to her womb where my seed will find it’s purpose.
The water warms and she is a vision. She closes her eyes, head back, letting the water rush over her hair, slicking it back as she runs her hands down her face, her neck, her chest…
Fuck. I cannot see. I’m spinning and dropping to my knees. I crawl toward her, stuffing my nose into the crease between her legs, making her yelp as she tries to step back, but my hands grip her ass, keeping her dainty little cunt on my lips.
I bite at the fabric, hating it for being in the way. I take a breath, trying to calm the possessive mating storm inside of me as the water wets my face and back, her scent scoring me forever.
“I want to taste this. It smells good enough to eat.”
Her belly is soft but it hollows and her legs begin to shake. Her sounds are like music and I begin to hum into her center, pulling the fabric down her legs, her body thin but solid and she holds on to the sides of my head as I tug the undergarment off her tiny feet.
“I do not know if this is right,” I say, looking up. “I do not know but I must be honest, I do not care what is right anymore. I will lick you here, I want to know every part of you, my female.”
I use my thumbs to open her little girl parts. There are light-red hued curls adorning the top and edges and they tickle my nose as her fingernails dig into my scalp.
“It is beautiful. Pink. Warm. I want to know everything. You must tell me when it feels good.”
I spread her with my tongue, holding the outer edges open as she quivers and hisses, my tusks pressing into the crease of her thighs.
“That feels good,” she mutters, so I lap harder, deeper, my lower tongue working what feels like her mating opening as my upper tongue discovers a little spot that is harder than the other flesh and I work it in a circle with the tip. “Oh God, that, that is good. Better. Best.”