Page 54 of The Orc's Innocent Plaything

‘Twas almost alarming.

Nay, notalmost.

My climax had faded and the rough thrusts meant I couldn’t appreciate his ridges, couldn’t find pleasure in the movements.

I…I didn’t like this.

“Stop!” I gasped, finally able to find my voice. “Vartok, please! Stop!”

His response was immediate.

Vartok yanked hard on the reins, pulling me backward until I was fully seated atop his cock, his arm holding me steady.

“What is it?”

I struggled to breathe, to find words to explain. I was speared, pinned by him, my body invaded. But I didn’t want to disappoint him…

“Lass, tell me.” He wrapped the reins around his wrist and lifted his fingers to smooth my curls away from my face. “Are ye crying?”

Was I? My body still thrummed from my climax, but the pleasure had turned to a confusion of pain and invasion, and I wasn’t surewhatI was feeling.

“I—I am sorry,” I whispered, my voicecatching on a sob.

And in a flash, his cock slid free of my sore cunny and he was swinging from the saddle, lifting me down as well.

Vartok didn’t set me on my feet, but instead cradled me against his chest, striding toward a pile of boulders left by some long-ago disaster. I pressed my face against his fur cloak, trying to understand what had happened to my body.

He dropped the reins and turned to settle against one of the boulders, his kilt covering him once more as he settled me in his lap.

“Now, Myra, talk to me,” he murmured, using his fingers to wipe tears from my cheeks. “Did I hurt ye?”

“You—” He couldneverhurt me. “I am sorry. I wanted to make you proud.”

He was watching me, and Isawthe moment his expression crumbled, when the look of concern in his eyes turned to regret.

“Fook me with an ax,” he murmured, crushing me against him once more, rocking us both atop that boulder. “I am sorry, lass. Whatever happened, whatever pain I caused, ‘twasmyfault. Never yers. Ye have made me proud from the verra first moment I met ye, Myra, and I will never no’ be proud of ye.”

The very first moment? But that was lastsummer.

I thought of how he’d confessed that he’d dreamed of my taste for months.

But…

But he’d treated me so differently, treated me like he hadn’t wanted anything to do with me…

I sniffled against his cloak, knowing there was no one else in this world or my old one who could get me to show this much emotion so readily.

“Please say something, Myra. I’m sorry I hurt ye. Please ken that I would cut off my own arm afore hurting ye. I would never doaughtto hurt ye?—”

His panic was obvious, and I pushed myself upright.

“Vartok, you did not hurt me.”

Green eyes darted across my face, looking for the truth.

“That cannae be true. Ye wouldnae cry if?—”

“Mayhap ‘twould be better if I allowed myself to cry a bit more often.”

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