Page 55 of Enchanted with the Orc
“Take them off,” she murmured against my lips, hooking her handsinto my belt loops and tugging down.
My laugh was soft and husky as I took those hands into mine, pinning them beside her head. Her eyes went wide with shock and I paused, but the gleam of interest there told me everything I needed to know.
“No touching,” I murmured against her lips, stealing kisses between the words. “Iwant to touchyou.”
“Then hurry,” she gasped, arching her back until her breasts were pushed upward, crushed against my bare chest.
She isn’t playing fair.
“I want to take my time with you,” I told her, running my tusks along her skin, marking her with my scent. Instead of pulling away, she pressed into it, arching harder against me for my mark.
Fuck, this female is everything.
Chapter Thirty
Tasia
Icircled my arms around his waist, feeling so very close to him, rubbing myself against his tusks, smothering myself in his delicious scent. I knew what he was doing. He was marking me, but I didn’t care. I was tired of being cautious. Tired of needing to make the safe choice all thefucking time.
Especially when I was with him. I didn’t need to be. I could be recklessly wanton and know that I was perfectly safe. I was burning up inside, my pussy soaked for him. That wasn’t something that happened… ever. Not since David. Not with David.
“This feels amazing,” I tell him, gasping the words against his lips, and they curled with what had to be smugness. I didn’t chastise him because he deserved it. He could definitely be smug.
He grunted his response, but it was a yes. His erection pressed against my stomach. So hard. So immense.
“Take me,” I said simply, not holding anything back from him. I didn’t have the willpower. Not anymore. I’d been doing it for weeks, and I was finally going to have what I’d wanted this entire time.
He murmured an incoherent response and then suddenly his muscular thigh was pressed between mine. An unexpected pressure right between my legs, exactly where I needed him.
I gasped, my head falling back onto the sofa, cushioned under me while pleasure saturated my body—new and terrifying.
“Is this what you want?” he murmured—and fuck yes. It is. Not everything that I wanted, but it was a fantastic place to start.
I tried to arch closer, to chase his lips with mine, but he’s too far away and my body wouldn’t let me wiggle away from his touch. And he was not helping at all. It didn’t matter, though. His hands were exactly where they should be.
One on my hip and one on my lower back, tilting me to the perfect position for the thickness of his thigh to hit just right.
“Enka,” I moaned.
He made a soft, murmuring noise, but he didn’t stop. I reached up, my nails scraping against his scalp, the shorter hair at his nape—soft and thick—as my hips moved, desperate for more friction. My underwear was soaked.
I had a brief, delirious moment to wonder if he could feel the slick mess of me through the denim of our jeans.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, staring down at me with unblinking dark eyes, and apparently that was all the permission my body needed.
There was nothing particularly romantic about the moment. Nothing too skilled or delicate about the way he grinded me under his body, but it felt like the most significant experience I’d ever had in my life.
So very significant that I couldn’t go through it alone. I lean forward, craving more of him. Anything to bind us together. But it’s as if he’s the sun and I’m a planet, forever pulled to him, but unable to reach.
He’s staring down at me, his lips parts, breathing ragged and quick. Our gazes are locked and I’m hot all over, but I can’t look away.
“Enka,” I started, my voice a blubbering sob and I wanted to say more. The underside of his cock pushed roughly against my hip, jutting in what had to be a lewd aberration in his jeans, and I wanted to touch it. Needed to, if I was being honest.
But before I could, pleasure erupted inside me and I came, dazed by the aftershocks of my own body. Everything that was happening to it—that I’d never experienced and couldn’t hope to understand, or replicate on my own ever again. The uncontrollable, quaking tremors that seized me.
Having an orgasm in front of someone was always a vulnerable, soul-baring experience. I hadn’t done it much, but in that moment, I felt gutted, my soft center open for him to peruse. But he watched me lose control, his chocolate irises swallowed by his pupils, and it somehow made the experience even more erotic.
“Fuck,” he hissed from above, lips pressed hot against my temple. For a long, silent moment, his grip was a vise-tight, splitting, bruising cage, and I feel trapped. Then I remembered where I was. Who I was with. “Fuck.”
