Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
The boxer shorts I grabbed from the laundry basket in the dark before I ran out the door hang down low on my hips. I’m not a little girl, but Darrell, my friend and family by choice, has worn out the elastic and running down to the corner store these days to replace stuff is a thing of the past.
I focus on my anger, the warmth in my belly, trying to remember the purpose of my visit, but I stay vigilant.
“It’s impossible to sleep with your all-night construction going on. I moved here for the quiet,” I lie. I moved here because it was the first chance I’ve ever had to own a house, and a damn big one at that. After two years hiding and looking over my shoulder, the first auction of houses in this damaged area of Glenrose was announced.
Darrel and I decided it was time to settle down. Kent Masters, the demon from my past, was surely lost in the chaos of this new world, and the stolen money I’d been hiding was finally going to be put to good use. It was my turn for the life I never thought I’d have. Even in a world full of orcs and hatred, I started to believe.
I do what I can to keep my eyes on his face, but I lose that battle as well.
The orc does nothing to hide the bulging erection that holds his leather kilt out in front of him. Big dick energy, like I said, but it’s not like any dick I’ve seen before.
Not that I’ve seen many. An oops sighting now and then in the foster homes and on some tragic guys that have slid into my DM’s over the years, but holy eggplant. Orc cocks are like alive or something.
It pulses, the head more tapered and the size of my fist. Only the first five inches or so is showing, but dang, what a five inches it is.
“Hi, I’m Raven.” A human female that looks about ready to pop extends her hand, breaking my dick trance. “Mol…” She tips her head toward the other enormous orc standing there darting his eyes between me and the now exposed erection. “…Why don’t you see if you can help your brother out. Get things…” She offers me a soft smile then turns back to him. “…under control.”
Blood rushes in my ears as heat covers me. I know orcs and humans are generally enemies, but clearly this dark-haired woman is part of their tribe or whatever. So that gives me a moment to breathe, thinking I may not have put myself in as much danger as was possible stomping over here in the middle of the night to unload on my new neighbor with my noise complaint.
I swallow hard and keep my eyes upward. The orc that lives here is fierce, sure, they all are, but there’s more. Those red eyes feel like they are looking inside of me. His features are yeah, chiseled—like they always say in the box of old Harlequin books I’ve been lugging around since I ran away from foster home hell at seventeen. I’ve read and re-read them until the pages are falling out but I have no shame. They transport me to other places. Other times. And let’s be honest, we all could use a little transport now and then.
Especially these days.
His tusks peek out from behind a thick lower lip, the heat from his body warming me as the cool night air prickles my skin. Before the orcs returned, seeing a creature like this would have been straight out of a nightmare but now, they are a part of the world and outside of a general, self-preserving healthy fear of a seven-foot grump with a three-hundred-year chip on his shoulder, they aren’t so bad.
This group is clearly primal. They wear the leather straps and kilts, hair shaved down the sides and secured in colored leather holders down their backs. The colors have meaning. Red, I think means you’re like the big shit in the clan, green and red means you are a warrior as well as related to the big shit or something like that.
The two male orcs turn and step away, leaving me flushed and unsure about what’s just happened.
“Sorry about that.” The woman’s voice is apologetic but humorous. “Orcs sometimes have control issues.”
“Yeah,” I answer, rubbing my arms with my hands, suddenly chilled. “I just—” I look around. The interior of the rambling ranch is in the process of being re-modeled in the same manner as the exterior. Animal skulls and hides are sitting around the floor, ready to be applied to the exterior as well as the interior of the once mid-century modern human home. “Just, see, I love sleep. And, I need sleep. So, if they could maybe just, not be full-on construction crew from midnight to eight, that would be great.”