Page 47 of Bound to the Orc Hunter

“Touch me, Branikk.” I step forward so that his fingers brush the underside of my breast. “Kiss me.”

Love me.

I can’t make myself say this last part out loud, not yet. But I don’t need to.

He surges forward, crushing me to him as his lips take mine.

All the promise of hours of teasing, all those little licks of fire he started in my body burst into a bonfire of desire.

Branikk growls, his mouth eating at mine, his tongue plunging into me over and over, just as I want his cock to.

I press closer, rubbing my breasts back and forth against the firm muscles of his chest, my nipples shooting bolts of electricity straight to my clit. Then I push forward to straddle his thigh, grinding against it, too hungry to wait to get naked. Ripples of pleasure roll through me. I fist his shirt, pulling myself even closer.

He thrusts his leg forward, pushing the heavy muscle of his thigh even more strongly between my legs.

I moan into his mouth and bear down, riding him, my whole body moving.

His hands are in my hair, tearing it from its bun so he can dig his fingers into its length and yank my head back. His mouth slides from mine, licking and teasing the sensitive skin of my bared neck.

I gasp, my heart pounding, my body moving faster as pleasure builds.

His other hand finds my hip, pushing me down onto his thigh so I grind even harder.

“Oh, god, yes!”

He nips at my neck, his tusks scoring my skin in a delicious scrape that joins with the press of his thigh into an overwhelming whole.

My orgasm explodes through my body, tingles racing outward like fireworks fizzing my blood as my mouth falls open on a silent scream.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Branikk

Feeling my bride climax in my arms is amazing—her breathy gasps, the tight clutch of her hands on my shoulders, the way she writhes against my thigh—and not nearly enough.

Grace comes back to reality slowly, her beautiful blue eyes a little dazed as they flutter open. She offers me a soft smile. “That was great.”

“Thatwas only the beginning.”

I set her gently on a mound of moss and pull everything from the saddlebag. Impatience lending speed to my movements, I spread the leather of the tent flat across the ground and pile the furs on top. The evening air is balmy, and this wisteria grove is far too lovely for us to hide inside the tent. If I cannot give her aproper bed for our first time, I will at least offer my bride a bower of copious flowers.

My cock strains against my pants as I pick her up and lay her on my furs, her lips red and swollen with my kisses, her gaze satisfied, her hair spread golden around her head like the rays of the sun.

Only her clothing keeps it from being utter perfection.

I remove her boots quickly, familiar with their human fastenings. Her feet are soft and a little ticklish when I first touch them, making her muscles tense in a little, involuntary kick. But I press my thumbs firmly into the soles until she moans, every muscle in her body melting.

Her legs fall open, bent at the knees, and I crawl up her body to hover over her. The deep vee of her pink shirt taunts me, making my tusks ache to rip the fabric from her. “Do you like this shirt?”

“Yes.”

“I was hoping for a no. But I can improvise.” I smirk, letting my tongue tease around my tusks. Then I dip to grip the hem of her shirt with my lips, dragging it up her stomach. My hands slide under the fabric in the back, lifting her up enough that I can pull the entire thing up over her head.

Her glorious breasts await, their plumpness straining the pink triangles of the thin-strapped garment she still wears. Hard nipples poke upward, begging for my mouth, and I fall on one, sucking on it through the fabric, wetting it with my tongue.

“Oh, god!” My moon bound’s hands bury in my hair, holding me to her.

I move only enough to drag the damp fabric to the bottom of her breasts, baring her raspberry nipple to my eager mouth. “You’re so sweet.” I swirl my tongue around the tight bud. “I love how you taste.”

---