Page 7 of One Night with Her Mountain Orc

“Why—” words leave my mind. My feet shuffle forward of their own accord. Now that I’m up, the chill in the air on my bare legs and arms makes me shiver.

His sigh doesn’t sound annoyed, just tired, like my presence woke him from a long hibernation. “Your scent,” is all he says.

My scent woke him up? Or my scent caused him to stuff himself into a recliner made for a man—not an orc?

“I can’t get back to sleep.”

“That’s because your bed is in the other room.”

“Ha. You’re funny at two A.M. Where is your bed?” Before I can think of anything else to say, to ask, he’s up. Towering over me, I don’t think I was cognizant enough on the mountain to realize just how massive he is. At eye level, I’m looking at his chest—very muscular and well-defined chest. I gulp. He isn’t wearing a shirt, just a pair of sweatpants that do little to hide how muscular his thighs are, or how hard he is. I gulp again. My fingers itch to caress his skin.

“Your scent is driving me mad. And I don’t have much willpower at two in the morning. So unless you are prepared to be ravaged, I need you to go back to your bed.” How many times can one girl gulp in the span of just a few minutes? I smile a little, because I like the idea of driving the gigantic orc mad.

“By ‘mad’, do you mean—” I don’t get to finish, because Bjorn’s lips press against mine, kissing all logical thoughts from my brain. One of his large hands knocks aside my hands making quotation marks, then cups the back of my head, keeping me close. As if I would leave. His other teases up and down the side of my arm, causing chills, before resting on my lower back. One finger plays with the waistband of my panties. I let myself get swept up in his kiss. In the smoothness of his lips. In the exoticness of running my tongue over his fangs, of savoring his massive hard planes against all my soft curves.

When he releases me, it’s just enough to rest his forehead against mine and purr like the happiest cat in town. I gulp a breath of air.

“You are the most amazing creature I’ve ever met. Brave. Sexy. Stubborn. Now, please go to bed.” The words sound almost painful as he whispers them. “I’m no good for you.”

“No. You don’t get to decide what’s good for me. You don’t get to kiss me like that, light me on fire, then walk away for me to burn all by myself. That is not a kindness.” My whisper has an edge of slightly furious that he’s pushing me away.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, he asks, “What would be a kindness?”

“Tending to my fire,” I whisper, my heart thumps a million miles a minute, as I’m not entirely sure what that will entail, what that will look like with our sizes—our differences. He cocks his head like he is listening to something.

“Your heart sounds erratic. Are you sure?” Words fail me, so I nod.

“August,” he groans my name. My heart melts. “Your head and your heart clearly don’t agree.”

“Yes. I’m sure,” I say with the same confidence I had when I thought I could climb the mountain alone. What could go wrong?

With that one sentence, he swoops me up again and carries me back to the nest he made. Back on the squishy blankets, I sigh in delight. I’m warmer already. His hands stroke my legs, seemingly knowing where the knots in my calf muscles are. Slowly, he makes his way up and down my legs—to the top of my thighs and hips, then down to my one good ankle. In between strokes, he places gentle kisses along my torso, lifting my camisole to expose my stomach, dipping down my waistband to my hip bone. Kisses flit up to my shoulder, along my collarbone, my neck, back to my lips.

Inside me, part of me is fire, part of me is boiling water—churned and unsettled, needing more. When his hand reaches the top of my inner thigh again, I spread my legs wider. A whimper escapes me, making me blush. I never whimper, but Bjorn has a spell over me. One of pure craving and ecstasy.

“You like that, little goat? You like my hands on your skin. My lips teasing you.” When I don’t answer because my brain is a catlike puddle, purring in delight and oblivious to the need for words, he stops. Hands and lips off, he leans back on his haunches.

The absence of his hands startles me. Propping myself up on my elbows, I can see his erection through his sweatpants, and there I go, gulping again. It’s an architectural thing of beauty.

“Answer me, August.” I love the way my name sounds on his lips.

“I—what was the question?” I’m glad it’s dark so he can’t see me blush.

“I asked if you liked this. I need an answer before I continue.”

“What? If I don’t, you’re just going to walk away? Go sleep in that stupid recliner with your giant hard-on?” My eyebrow arches and my lip twitches in a smirk. A voice in my mind reminds me I’m playing with fire, but fire is the only thing that matters.

“Our species and size differences aside, consent is very important to me. You need to be a team player.”

“Team player? As in, more than one of you?”

“Gods, no!” He chuckles, then shifts to lie next to me, careful to leave millimeters of space between us. I bring my foot over to his leg, and he removes it from his body. I make a pouty face, and I wonder who I’ve become in the last twenty-four hours. Whimpering? Pouting? This is not me. “I mean, you have to be an active participant with me.Onlyme.” Theonlyis a growl that makes me quiver from head to toe.

“What do I have to do for you to believe me when I say yes?” One fat orc finger makes little circles, starting at my shoulder and working its way across my chest, slowly sinking lower toward my breasts which continue to betray my excitement with their pointed peaks.

“Say it again,” he growls into my ear, his finger tantalizing my skin. His skin is so smooth. I swear my finger tingles from the sensations of touching him, just like my chest tingles. Maybe he has magic tingly skin?

“Yes.” The word is a squeak as he twists my nipple.

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