Page 4 of The Princess and the Orc

“So responsive,” he growled approvingly. “So perfect.”

One hand tangled in her hair while the other pressed against her lower back, molding her more firmly against him. The hard planes of his body felt amazing against her softness, and she could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against her belly.

Horror and arousal warred within her as she realized just how much she wanted this, wanted him. He was an orc, her people's enemy, everything she'd been taught to fear and revile. Yet her body sang for his touch, and when he captured her mouth again, she kissed him back with equal passion.

His tongue stroked against hers as his hands roamed her body, learning her curves through the thin fabric of her riding dress. Every touch left trails of fire in its wake. When his fingers brushed the side of her breast, she gasped and arched into the contact, wanting more. He tugged the top of her riding dress and the buttons sprang open, exposing her breast to the air. He cupped the mound, rubbing his thumb across the taut peak. The shock of his touch on her bare skin sent heat shooting through her body, straight to her core, which throbbed with a need she had never felt before. She moaned and pushed into his hold, trying to get closer.

He chuckled and tweaked the nipple. “Be still. I want to look at you.”

But he didn’t look for long. He bent down and sucked one tip in his mouth, his tusks brushing the side of her breast, his teeth worrying at the peak, skirting the edge of pleasure and pain. She buried her hands in his black hair, finding it smoother than she expected, and tugged him closer, twisting the dark strands in her fingers, holding him to her.

He nipped her and shifted to the other side, feasting on her while massaging the soft flesh, his dark green color a shock against her pale, creamy skin. He drew her dress further open and, baring her stomach, and began kissing his way down the gently curved belly. Shouts echoed in the distance, penetrating the haze of passion that clouded her mind. She shook her head and pushed him away.

“We have to stop,” she gasped.

Drogath slowly lifted his head, his eyes hazy with passion, and rested his forehead against her stomach. His breathing was as ragged as her own, his obsidian eyes dark with desire. Sounds in the distance penetrated, and his fog cleared quickly. He stood, pulling her dress closed.

“We need to move,” he said, his gaze looking around the forest surrounding them. “Before I take you right here in the forest.”

The words should have shocked her, should have snapped her out of this madness. Instead, they sent another wave of heat through her core. Images flashed through her mind. Those powerful hands on her bare skin, his massive body moving over hers, taking her with the same passionate intensity he'd shown in battle.

“Yes,” she whispered, though whether she was agreeing they should stop or begging him to continue, she wasn't sure. Her lips felt swollen from his kisses, her body trembling with a need she'd never experienced before.

He growled low in his throat and kissed her again, harder this time, his control clearly fraying. One hand slid down to cup her bottom, pulling her more firmly against him, and Amalia moaned at the friction. Her fingers slid under the leather straps, seeking warm skin.

A distant shout snapped her back to reality. The soldiers were still searching, drawing closer. Drogath pulled back slightly, though he kept her pressed close with one arm around her waist.

“Finish dressing before those soldiers find us,” he said, his voice rough with restrained desire. “Unless you've changed your mind about wanting to return home?”

The question held layers of meaning. Amalia fought to gather her scattered thoughts, horrified by how close she'd come to giving herself to an orc in the middle of the forest. Yet she couldn't deny the way her body still hummed for his touch, or how right it had felt in his arms. She fumbled with the buttons, avoiding his gaze.

“Take me home,” she managed, hating how breathless she sounded. “Please.”

His knowing smile sent another shiver through her. “As my princess commands.”

Shergar snorted from somewhere behind Amalie, having circled back to them. Drogath lifted her easily back onto her horse, his hands lingering longer than necessary.

“Know this. When we are alone, I will finish what we started here. And I will take my time with it. And you will like it, my mate.”

Amalia's face flamed, but she couldn't suppress a thrill of anticipation at his words. What had she gotten herself into? And why did the thought of being at his mercy fill her with such desperate longing?

* * *

Drogath kept a careful distance behind the princess as they traveled, close enough to protect her if needed, but far enough that she wouldn't feel crowded by his presence. His keen senses remained alert for any sign of the remaining soldiers, though they seemed to have withdrawn once he'd entered the picture. Smart of them.

His body still hummed from the interrupted moment they’d shared earlier, his cock aching where it pressed against his breeches, damning him for stopping when he had a willing female present. The princess had been a ball of fire in his arms, full of passion and heat, an unexpected surprise, and most welcome. He’d had his share of females, both human and orc.any human females found orcs irresistible, something to do with scents, according to their legends. But when an orc found his fated mate, the pull was undeniable, and his mate, whether she be human or orc, would be unable to resist. It appeared the princess would be a fiery mate to warm his bed, and he was grateful for his match.

While he had been frustrated at his attempts to see the king, his efforts appeared to have paid off in a most unexpected way. He had come seeking an ally, and he would leave with a mate and a stronger alliance, or so he hoped. His clan needed him to succeed. Their very existence relied on his ability to convince King Henrik that the orcs were not to blame for the border raids. If the king denied the mating pact and threw him in the dungeon, a very real possibility, his clan and the fate of all orc clans that he hoped would unite under one banner would be in jeopardy.

And all of it rested on the head of one spoiled princess.

Amalia kept her horse to a sedate walk, slow enough to allow him to keep pace and protect her, though a little ahead of him. She rode with her body rigid, her chin tilted up and away from him, acting as if he was her servant, not her mate. He allowed it, amused by her petty rebellion. It wouldn’t last once they were mated, though technically, in the eyes of his people, they already were since she accepted the bond. He doubted she would have gone along so easily if she understood what she was agreeing to, so he had decided not to share the details. Once he had her fully mated, he would take her in hand and she would be unable to resist him. For now, he would settle for admiring the curve of her ass as she rode her steed, and thinking about how she would ride him someday, her tight pussy clenching around him, her soft breasts bouncing, her belly rounded with his young.

He clutched the silk ribbon from her hair in his hand, plucked from where it had snagged on a branch during their interlude. It was infused with her delicate scent and teased him. He could still taste her on his lips, still feel the way she'd melted against him, desire overwhelming her fear and prejudice. But he wasn't fool enough to think that would last once she was back in her gilded cage.

When the castle towers appeared through the trees, her shoulders stiffened. Her horse sensed the change in her posture and pranced nervously. Drogath slowed his pace, giving her the space she needed to make her choice. He'd known this moment would come from the instant she'd agreed to his bargain. She would run from him, but she would never escape.

Amalia drew her mount to a halt, half-turning in the saddle to look back at him. For a moment, their eyes met across the distance. He saw the conflict there, the whisper of regret that almost made him hope that she would choose him.

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