Page 51 of Built Orc Tough
"Stop thinking."
My palm presses flat against his chest, where war drum heartbeat shakes through muscle.
He looks shattered. Raw. I kiss him slow then hard, teeth grazing his lower lip until a groan rumbles deep under his skin.His arms lock around me, dragging my hips against the steel ridge of his cock fighting denim restraints.
We tumble to the ground, my thighs straddling his hips. Fumbling, desperate buttons give way one by one at my urging yank. Warm skin meets my palms, the coiled tension of his belly like oak bark.
My hand slips beneath his waistband, wraps around heat and weight that pulses firm against my fingers. A broken sound leaves him when I move my thumb over the slick head. of his cock.
I shove my skirt up around my waist and my panties to the side, guide that unfamiliar heft, thrumming and ready, to notch against me. Slick with needing him. His palms spread wide across my back as I sink down slow. Tilting hips. Taking inch after thick inch with a slick, stretching burn that dissolves at the stretch, at thefull. Breath hisses through my teeth.
"Hush." His forehead presses to mine. "Don’t stop."
Arms wrap around his neck—a climb, a hold—as motion arcs us together. There's nothing gentle in the snap of his thrusts. Not punishment, but possession. Claiming with urgent rolls of hips digging fingers into flesh as he grips my legs hard.
Deeper now, harder, the thick slide hitting what makes stars flare behind closed eyes.
My nails rake down his chest, blunt claws for him to chase. Faster. Deeper still. Sweat soaks through the cotton at my chest. Every slap of flesh sounds obscene until we tempo our bodies ragged.
He clutches my ass possessively, burying greedy in rhythm until I unravel first—armorless perfection shattering into light. Nothing held back or planned. Just heat seizing up my spine so hard my thighs shake, soaked and clenching around him.
He follows with a roar that rattles glass: his orgasm buried deep. Holding. Shuddering unleashed for long breaths. Foreheads pressed, lips crushed quiet. Heaving stillness.
His sweat-damp skin slides against mine as he flips us, pressing me into the cool, gritty greenhouse floor. My breath hitches when his weight settles, heavy and real, a solid anchor in this whirlwind. Then his cock finds my entrance again with one deep, claiming thrust. I cry out, arching, legs locking around his hips to pull him deeper.
"Mine," he rumbles, the word a vibration against my throat as his teeth scrape my pulse point. "Always."
His pace builds, each pump driving that thick heat deeper, stretching me wide. He braces on thick forearms, muscles cording in his shoulders. I dig my heels into the back of his thighs.
"Gods, Ivy..." His groan is raw, strangled. "Feels like coming home."
So I tell him the hot, messy truth. "You always do," panting the words against his collarbone. "When you’re inside me? Feels right." My fingers knot in his dark hair.
He makes a wounded sound. His thrusts turn harder, surrender in the shuddering rhythm. No finesse. Just pure, desperate joining. My inner muscles grip him tighter, seeking that perfect angle.
"Here," I gasp, grinding up to meet a thrust that spears true. Sparks ignite low in my belly.
His hips snap against me, unforgiving. Sweat beads on his brow, drips onto my shoulder. We don’t speak. We pant, sharp breaths mingling. Every slap of skin echoes in the glass-walled silence.
I tilt, demanding, until his cock drags that sweet spot with every retreat. His foreskin rubbing against me with devastating precision.
"More," I demand.
He leverages up, hands cradling my face now, thumbs tracing my cheekbones. His gaze holds mine. Anchor eyes in the storm. No armor left in them. The thrusts turn deliberate. Slow then deep, then hard. Measuring every gasp I bite down on.
The greenhouse holds our shared breath—scent of crushed lavender beneath us, late sunlight buttering the glass panes above. His palm cradles my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip.
We surge into urgency. A low rumble builds in his chest. My spine pulls taut. The tension coils tighter until—a snap. The orgasm hits me like a lightning strike. Light fractures behind my eyelids. My cry tangles with his broken groan.
In the silence that follows, my lips find the pulse at his throat. Trembles rock us both, a shared tremor. He slows, forehead pressed to mine, breaths mingling. Sweat-slick skin cools. Distant birdcall filters through stillness.
He rolls us sideways, tucking me against his chest like petals sheltering pollen. Calloused fingers drift through my hair. My pinky hooks his. Clouds drift across the atrium panes. Warmth pools between us—shared heat breathing its own language. His exhale feathers my temple.
My eyes shut. Only this. No plans, no structure. Just his uneven breath slowing into mine.
CHAPTER 24
GORRAN
