Page 47 of The Orc's Innocent Plaything

“We heard ye call herdkaar, Vartok, and yer eyes are glowing fiercely.”

“Mayhap I’m angry.”

“Yeareangry,” he shot back with a shrug. “Because ye havenae claimed her fully, aye?”

I wasn’t going to answer him. Wasn’t going to give him details of my love life. So I went back to scowling at the females across the cottage.

“Myra needs rest, cousin.” His tone had gone oddly formal. “Yesterday ye allowed her to rest in yer home. Will ye allow it again?”

“Aye, of course.” I shot him an irritated glance. “’Tis why I’m still standing here. She’ll work herself to death if someone doesnae force her to stop.”

“So ye’re saying ye’re here to drag her to yer bed?” Mkaalad’s lips twitched.

And I, normally the irreverent one in any conversation, gave up trying to maintain propriety.

“Aye,” I sighed. “And do what I must to ensure she falls into a deep sleep.”

Snorting, my cousin slapped me on my back.

“Such a sacrifice ye make for yer clan. Have her back tonight, aye? Amma, Nan and I will be here throughout the day to care for Avaleen.”

I took in Mkaalad’s tired eyes, the way his shoulders drooped.

“And ye? Will ye rest?”

“I’ve been sleeping where I can. Avaleen was the true warrior, laboring through the night. Her strength isnae back, and…”

When he trailed off and looked away, I frowned.

“What is it?”

He shrugged. “I dinnae see how she can possibly recover. The bairn… Even Nan agrees the lassie was large. Avaleen is bleeding.”

“Bleeding is normal, is it no’?” I hazarded.

Mkaalad’s grin looked forced. “Aye, ‘tis. There’s naught to worry about, for certes. My Mate is getting the best care possible, between Myra and Nan.”

“Aye,” I agreed. But as I collected an exhausted Myra and led her back to my cottage, I couldn’t help worry about the way my normally cheerful cousin had seemed uncertain.

I tucked Myra into bed and went to my forge to finish work on her mother’s knife. I never had taken the time to measure her hands, but now all I had to do was remember the way she’d gripped my cock to know their size.

Working a forge with a cockstand is fooking inconvenient, in case you’re wondering.

I prepared a meal for my Mate that afternoon, and when she woke—comfortable, sated and refreshed—I fed her. Then I stripped us both of our clothing, climbed into bed with her, and taught her three more ways to reach climax.

“This time, when ye come, pet, ye’re going to scream my name.”

“But—” she’d panted, rocking atop me, her palms flattened on my chest. “People will hear…”

“Aye, they will, just like every other time.” I’d reached up to tug on her nipples, causing her to moan. “’Tis the point. Ye’remine, Myra. My innocent little human plaything. Aye?”

“Aye, Vartok.”

And she screamed it again when she found her release.

And again, I spilled against her skin, rather than deep in her cunny.

I could see her mind working behind that satiated smile as she trailed her finger through the thick seed coating her stomach. When she licked it off her fingers, I groaned and pulled her to me again, my mouth finding her cunny and making her scream in ecstasy again.

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