Page 50 of Orc Me, Maybe

Gid.

I don’t need it.

Nor do I want it.

“Gods you’re so wet,” he growls against the back of my neck. “So wet for me, Julie. So good for me.”

"Fuck, yes." I choke on a gasp as he leans forward, tusks grazing my ear. “Fuck me, Torack, please. Yes!”

"Language, Miss Wren. How many times must I remind you?" His breath scalds my neck, voice all boardroom calmexcept for the hitch when I clench around him. "This is a family establishment, not a truck stop diner."

I arch backward, forcing him deeper.

“You fucking love it.”

His groan vibrates against my spine, proving me right. One hand snakes under me, fingers finding my clit.

I lose myself completely in the sparks of pleasure his fingertips ignite. My hips bucks against his hand, helpless between it and his cock ravaging me from behind.

I’m in heaven

I let out more strained yelps of pleasure, moaning and groaning as he works his magic below my hips.

“So demanding, Julie. You’re never so vocal during board meetings.”

“I –ah!-- can actually think my words –oh!-- through during board meetings!” I protest. Torack chuckles in response.

“I never said that was a bad thing.”

The cot protests as he picks up speed, my blouse riding up to trap my arms. I bite the blanket to muffle a cry when his thumb circles just right between my folds, the wool scratching my tongue. His other hand splays across my stomach, holding me flush against him as he grinds deeper.

His growl shakes the cot springs. The hand at my stomach shifts to the crook of my hip, pressing down until the mattress groans. My vision blurs at the edges, the generator's hum outside syncing with the slap of skin on skin.

I reach back blindly, nails raking his thigh. "I'm gonna?—!"

“I know,” he says roughly. His fingers dig into me deeper, his cock pushing in harder. “Come for me, Julie. Now.”

I can’t help but obey.

My back arches like a drawn bowstring, every muscle seizing as the orgasm detonates.

Torack’s growl vibrates through my spine. His grip on my hip leaves bruises as he slams home three final times, tusks grazing my shoulder when he stills. Heat floods me, his breath coming in ragged bursts against my neck.

We collapse sideways in a tangle of limbs and half-undone clothes. My blouse hangs off one shoulder, buttons sacrificed somewhere near the torn curtain. Torack’s dress shirt clings to his chest, translucent with sweat.

My fingers trail through the hair dusting his chest, nails catching on the gold chain around his neck.

"Do you…have to run again?" I ask, remembering the cold night I spent alone the last time we did this.

He captures my wrist, bringing my palm to his mouth. The scrape of tusk against skin makes me shiver. His thumb traces the pulse fluttering in my wrist. “No.”

CHAPTER 21

TORACK

Lillian tugs on my sleeve for the fourth time. “Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.”

I don’t look up. The schedule in my hands is riddled with notes—volunteer rotations, spellsite maintenance logs, magical inventory tallies that don't match Groth's latest counts. The meeting starts in twenty minutes and we still haven’t figured out who’s warding the west cabins since Renault’s sabotage upended the entire charm crew's rhythm.

---