Page 22 of Susie's Orc

There’s nothing but the pink flush on her cheeks and the uncertain smile on her lips. Nothing but the scent of her—gods,the scent of her—and the soul-deep need to touch her.

“Susie.” I barely recognize my own voice, as husky and pathetically steeped in need for her as it is, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Hi.” The flush on her cheek deepens. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shifts from one foot to the other, a reminder that I shouldn’t keep standing here gawking at her like an idiot.

I step back and gesture her inside, suddenly hyper-aware of my space, trying to see it through her eyes.

Are the lights too low? Is the decor too rustic? Is it too much of a bachelor pad? Would it have been better if I’d offered to come over to her place rather than—

She unzips her jacket, and instinct takes over—apparently the only thing stronger than my debilitating, self-conscious indecision.

“Let me help you with that,” I offer, resting my hands on her shoulders.

Susie relaxes under my touch, leaning into me and drawing a low, unstoppable rumble of pleasure from the depths of my chest.

I don’t even have time to wonder if it’s another misstep, if I’m going to freak her out byrumblingat her, before the jacket’s off and set aside, and my hands land on her hips, nudging her to turn and face me.

With a slow, delicious smile spreading on her lips, she complies. She raises her arms and loops them around my neck, pressing the full length of her body against mine. Her fingers toy with my hair and that rumble gets louder, more insistent.

Right. This is right.

Susie is right.

The two of us here, together, touching, is right.

The last of my doubts and hesitations and chronic overthinking slides away.

How could I hold on to any of it when I’m here, in Susie’s embrace, feeling like some piece of myself I didn’t even know was missing has finally, finally slotted into place?

“This has felt like the longest week,” she murmurs, fingers still working into my hair and the intoxicating smell of her arousal blooming between us.

“Missed me?” I can’t help but tease.

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I might be able to guess.”

Unable to stop the hunger gnawing a hole in me from the inside out, I dip my mouth to hers. She rises up on her tiptoes to meet me, and the kiss she presses to my lips lights up every nerve ending and every instinct to taste her, to fuck her, to keep her. To hold her and never let her go.

We both groan, a desperate chorus to accompany our grasping hands and straining bodies, like neither of us can be close enough to be satisfied, like this hunger isn’t just mine alone. Like this makes just as much sense to her as it does to me.

I run my tongue along the seam of her lips and they part immediately.

Is this only the second time I’ve had the opportunity to kiss her?

Could have fooled me, because there’s something about kissing Susie that feels like years and decades. Like we’ve done this a hundred times, a thousand, and will do it a thousand more.

I stroke into her slowly, teasing, building, until I can’t, until urgency takes over and I plunge into her, plundering, claiming.

Reaching down, I grip Susie’s pert, perfect ass and haul her up against me. She wraps her legs around my waist, presses her denim-clad pussy into me and groans.

Fuck, I’m already hard as stone for her.

There’s no way she can’t feel it with the way I’m holding her. Greedy and insistent, I press against her and she groans again. By the time I walk us over to my sofa and sit, settling Susie against me so she’s straddled over my lap, she’s rolling her hips on me, grinding into me. She grips my hair harder, leans in, and runs the tip of her little pink tongue over my tusk. I growl and give her ass a light smack, and she yelps in delight.

“Are you still so greedy for me, Susie? Still so impatient?”

Her only reply is another roll of her hips and a whimper, such a desperate, lovely sound that I chase it with my mouth and get to work on removing all the layers between us.

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