Page 23 of Vexing the Grumpy Orc

But his skin burned beneath my fingertips, and the memory of our bodies tangled together during the ritual flashed through my mind with startling clarity. And those eyes, so dark, so watchful and hungry, held me trapped in the moment I didn’t want to end.

“Magnificent.” The syllables were barely a puff of air, but the word was written on every inch of his face.

The first brush of his lips against mine was gentle, almost hesitant. Testing. My eyes fluttered closed as I leaned into him, answering his unspoken question.Yes. This.

The ritual had drained me, but this—his mouth on mine, his heat surrounding me—brought me back to life. I pushed myself up, ignoring my body’s protests to get closer to him. His other hand came to my waist, steadying me as I shifted to my knees on the bed.

Digby made a distressed sound and leapt from the bed, but I barely registered his departure. All I could focus on was Galan—his taste, his scent, the way his hand slid from my cheek to my neck, thumb brushing my pulse point.

He surged forward, one knee on the bed as he claimed my mouth with newfound hunger. His tusks grazed my lips, adding to the ache building betweenmy thighs. I pushed at his chest, creating just enough space between us to reach for the buttons of his shirt.

“Let me thank you,” I murmured, working the first button free. “Properly.”

He swallowed hard, the movement visible in his throat. “You don’t need to?—”

I silenced him with another kiss, softer this time. “I want to.”

Another button. Another kiss, this one tracing the edge of a tattoo that peeked above his collar. His breathing grew ragged as I worked my way down, savoring each new inch of revealed skin.

“What is this one?” I traced the black lines of what looked like a mountain range inked across his left pectoral.

“Clan territory,” he said, voice strained. “Given when I reached adulthood.”

I kissed the peaks and valleys, imagining the pride he must have felt receiving such a mark. Another button revealed more of his abdomen, the muscles taut beneath my exploring fingers.

“And this?” I traced a spiral pattern near his ribs.

“Successful hunt.” His hand settled in my hair, not guiding, just holding. “First deer I took down alone.”

When I reached his stomach, I felt his muscles jump beneath my touch. The final button gave way, and I pushed the fabric off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor.

I sat back on my heels to take him in. Green skin stretched over defined muscle, marked with more scars and tattoos that told stories I wanted to learn. I palmed his cock through his jeans, feeling him throb beneath my touch.

“Let me,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “Please.”

Something flickered in his gaze—vulnerability, maybe, or uncertainty. But he nodded, his hands falling to his sides.

His breath hitched as I unbuttoned his pants, sliding the zipper down with agonizing slowness. I glanced up, watching his face as I hooked my fingers in his waistband and tugged. He lifted his hips, helping me slide the fabric down his thighs.

His cock sprang free, hard and thick against his stomach. I wrapped my fingers around him, marveling at how he filled my hand, at how his skin felt like velvet over steel.

“Fuck,” he hissed, hips jerking as I stroked him slowly.

I maintained eye contact as I lowered my head, letting my breath ghost over him. His pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the dark irises. When my lips closed around the head of his cock, he made a sound that was half-groan, half-growl.

“Your mouth,” he rasped. His hand came up to cup the back of my head, not pushing, just resting there as if he needed the connection. “So fucking hot.”

I hummed around him, taking him deeper. His tastefilled my senses—earthy, masculine, addictive. I worked him with lips and tongue, alternating between teasing licks and deep, sucking pulls.

His breathing grew ragged, the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath my hands. I glanced up to find him watching me, his expression a mixture of awe and hunger that made my core flood with heat.

“I can’t—” His fingers tightened in my hair. “Hannah, I’m going to?—”

I doubled my efforts, taking him as deep as I could. His cock pulsed against my tongue, and then he was coming with a guttural groan that seemed torn from his very soul. I swallowed everything he gave me, working him through the aftershocks until he tugged gently at my hair.

I released him with a final lick, looking up to find him collapsed against the bed. His chest heaved with each breath, staring at me with something like wonder.

“Can I...” He hesitated, eyes darting to the junction of my thighs. “Can I taste you, too?”

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