Page 23 of Susie's Orc

Jeans removed, Susie settles back over me and I splay my hands wide across her lower back, fingers dipping beneath the waist of her underwear to give her ass another squeeze. Leveraging that grip, I flip our position so she’s sprawled across the sofa’s cushions, then make myself comfortable between her thighs.

She shifts, makes room for me, and sinking into the cradle of her hips is like the pull of a magnet, natural and inexorable. Her thighs grip me tight, and the mouth-watering scent of her wafts up between us.

I murmur some nonsense about it as I dip my head to taste her skin. I tell her how delicious she is, how incredible she smells, how much I can’t wait to have my mouth on her as I sink down, down, down to the slight curve of her stomach and the hem of her sweater.

Susie Grove and her godsdamned sweaters.

I’ll be seeing those sweaters in all my dreams and all my fantasies from now until forever. For as long as I live, I’ll be seeing those sweaters.

But right now, this one has to go.

I catch the tip of my tusk in the soft fabric, and Susie takes it as an invitation to pull it up and off of her, tossing it aside and leaving her bare except for her panties.

“No bra?” I ask, entirely unable to tear my eyes away from her perfect breasts, her rosy pink nipples catching the lamplight.

“Thought I’d make it easy for you,” she says, breathless.

I chuckle, wondering at the truth of it.

Maybe it always would have been this easy. Maybe if I’d had the courage and taken the initiative, we could have had this for years already.

But there’s no time to dwell on it now. Not when Susie Grove is all but naked in my apartment, and not when her lips are parted so prettily, just begging for another kiss.

I give her that kiss, and a few more as I work my way down the delicate lines of her throat, over the fluttering pulse point right at the base of it, over the dip of her collarbones.

Her skin is just as sweet as I imagined it would be. Lips fastened around one taut nipple, I suck and lick and nip at her until she’s crying out again, until she’s arching into me and tugging at my hair. Wild, writhing, heart pounding fast in her chest, I lavish attention on one breast, then the other, working her near to a frenzy before continuing toward my destination.

“I’ve been thinking about this since last time, how much I want to taste you,” I murmur, toying with the waist of her underwear. “Are you going to let me, Susie?”

Her fingers fist in my hair, urging me lower, and it’s all the answer I need.

But as much as I want to rip this little scrap of lace off her and bury myself between her thighs, I’m already too close. The muscles low in my abdomen ripple and tighten, my balls ache, and I thrust into the cushions a couple of times just to get a bit of relief.

Gods above, I’m going to come in my pants if I’m not careful. One good taste of Susie and I’m done for.

Catching my tusks in the elastic at her waist, I give it a gentle snap, and she gasps and squirms. I take a moment to study her, to admire the sight of her pretty pussy covered in delicate black lace and commit it to memory, searing it into my mind.

I lick her over the panties, cover her with my mouth and suck.

“Lace,” I taunt, running my tongue up her slit over the fabric. “How did you know lace was my favorite?”

“Lucky guess,” she gasps, and I must not be doing my job right if she’s still coherent enough to form words.

I slip her panties off and toss them aside. My mouth waters, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to lean back in and get a real taste of her, but I can’t resist pausing to look.

Gripping her thighs, I spread Susie open for me. A gorgeous flush blooms on her cheeks, races down her neck and stains her chest until she’s nearly glowing with it.

“Just so pretty and pink for me everywhere, aren’t you?”

I barely recognize the words coming out of my mouth, barely recognize the person I become when I have her like this.

Raw and instinctual, the pull that hasn’t left me since last Friday at the Bureau.

Gods, has it only been a week?

It feels like this hunger has lived in me for years. And maybe it has—dormant, waiting for me to find the courage to do something about it.

And now that she’s here, now that I’ve found that courage, I can’t wait any longer. Can’t wait to taste her. To devour her.

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