Page 18 of Accidental Orc Daddy

Mustaf's lips return to mine, and we kiss passionately, our tongues tangling together. I can feel myself getting lost in the moment, lost in the feeling of his body against mine.

“If you don’t stop,” he pants out. “I’m not going to.”

I kiss him roughly. “I don’t want to stop.”

CHAPTER 9

Meiko

Outside the bar, Mustaf's hands are all over my body, skimming every contour and grasping me to him. My tongue explores his mouth as I reach up onto my toes for better access.

He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing myself into a knowing firmness against me. The kiss deepens. An unspoken agreement of where the night is going to end is made when Mustaf grips my ass, grinding me down against himself as he lets out a low throaty groan against my mouth.

Pulling back, he sets me back on my feet, steadying my shoulders as I sway from the headiness of him. The night is balmy and warm, and the anticipation of what lies ahead buzzes between us like a current. He slips my hand into his and leads me down the path to his private villa.

“Are you ready?” he whispers huskily.

Every feeling in my body is heightened as I just nod, my throat suddenly dry. A need begins to build between my thighs. “Yes,” I finally manage to croak out, surprised by how hoarse my voice sounds. It’s like someone else is speaking.

Mustaf turns the key in the lock to his villa and the door swings open with a soft click, welcoming us into its depths as we become cloaked from the world outside. Our gazes lock, speaking volumes about what is about to happen as he backs me over the threshold into his place.

He hungers over me, pressing his lips to mine as his hand wraps around my waist. As we cross the threshold, I'm struck with a wave of his scent, musk, cedar, and something undeniably him.

Mustaf leads me through the foyer, our intertwined bodies sending electrifying shockwaves through my skin. His grip loosens around me, slipping his hand in mine as we ascend the grand staircase leading to the upper level. “This way.”

A beautiful chandelier sways gently above us as we climb, its light casting flickering shadows onto the wooden steps beneath our feet. The air is thick with a heady mixture of our mingled colognes and the rich aroma of night-blooming jasmine drifting in from an open balcony door somewhere nearby.

His bedroom is washed in soft ambient light from the moon's glow cascading through floor-to-ceiling windows. Mustaf’s touch is deliberate, his hands finding my waist as he pulls me close. His gaze holds mine captive, a silent command that asks for surrender. And without hesitation, I do surrender to him.

As I do, that voice of hesitation attempts to whisper its words of so-called reason, but the power Mustaf wields flushes it out of my head. Rightfully so. I won’t let it rip me away from what, or who, I so desperately want.

The world outside dies away as his hands move to unfasten the buttons down the front of my blouse. He tugs the fabric apart gently, revealing my skin to the cool air of the room. It sends a chill down my spine, but his touch chases it away, trailing warmth in its wake. The blouse and then my shorts pool at my feet with a soft rustle, leaving me exposed in the moonlight filtering through the windows.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice sounding almost reverent. His eyes soften with obvious desire, taking in the sight of all of me in nothing but the moonlight.

“Thank you,” I reply with a nervous giggle. His own shirt joins my clothes on the floor, discarded with an ease that speaks of familiarity and confidence. Moonlight dapples his bare skin, accentuating the hard planes and contours of his muscular chest.

We stand there for a moment, two bodies poised on the precipice of intimacy. Our breaths come in shallow whispers that resonate through the quiet room. Then he steps forward, closing the gap between us until I can feel the heat radiating from his skin against mine.

His hand finds mine again, only this time it guides me toward the bed swathed in expensive cotton sheets. With a gentle nudge from him, I sink into their cool embrace while he stands overhead, an imposing figure bathed in shadow and moonlight.

Then he kneels beside me on the bed, a dark silhouette against the silver glow of the moon.

His hands, firm yet gentle, begin to trace lines down my arms, raising goosebumps in their wake. His warmth seeps into my skin, driving away any remnants of cold and replacing it with an all-consuming heat that has nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

His lips whisper soft words against my neck, each syllable sending vibrations along my skin and causing my heart to stutter in response. My fingers find their way into his hair, soft strands slipping through like black silk as he continues this tantalizing exploration of skin and sinew.

There is no rush. Each caress, each whisper, each mingling breath seems suspended in a world born from our mutual desire.

Slowly, so slowly, Mustaf leans forward until our lips hover mere millimeters apart. His stormy gaze searches mine one last time before he closes the gap between us in a kiss that completely eclipses any coherent thought from my mind.

Our tongues meet among the breathy sighs and gasps as our bodies meld against each other. The warmth of his skin against mine stands out to me in a rush of excitement.

His fingers explore the fine line of my waist, tracing each curve like an artist lost in his work, and I shudder under his touch. He responds to each of my sighs with a tenderness that further intertwines us.

His body is an expanse of warmth against mine, a delicious contrast to the cool sheets beneath us. His hands, while exploring, seem to memorize every inch of me.

His lips move from mine to trail kisses down my throat, each one searing a path down to my heart. The air between us grows heavy with desire as he continues his way down the valley of my breasts… to my stomach... and lower. Each kiss draws a soft gasp from my lips, and each sigh encourages him further.

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