Page 146 of Halfling
Those burning eyes of his tracked her every movement, gone hooded with pleasure and pride. When she finally collapsed into the furs, he pressed tender kisses to her inner thighs before prowling over her.
She opened her arms for him, even though it took great effort to lift them at all. He swooped down to claim her lips in a searing kiss, filling her mouth with their tastes.
Orek pulled back, and Sorcha smiled, ready to be drawn into his arms and whisper to him as they fell asleep.
Awhoomphpunched through her chest when instead, he flipped her to her stomach. She didn’t have the strength to get to her elbows, but he saved her the trouble, spreading her legs and drawing her hips back to meet him.
Sorcha moaned as his cock ran along the seam between her legs, from clit to ass and back again. He soaked himself in her before pushing inside, his rumbling purr making her quake.
His strokes were firm but measured again, his hands kneading and caressing her backside and shoulders. He rocked them together, growling to her how his cock glistened with her slick each time he pulled back, how he loved watching the way the globes of her backside bounced with every thrust, how good she took him every time. Howbeautifulandperfectandhisshe was.
Sorcha nearly purred herself at the praise, burying her face in the furs and finally succumbing to all the pleasure he seemed determined to give her. When he took a handful of her curls, she arched her back and neck, giving him her mouth to kiss and suck as he bent over her.
One hand burrowed beneath them to strum at her clit, and Sorcha groaned, unable to take more.
But she did. He made sure of it.
He shattered her, used her body for both their pleasure. Sorcha drowned in it yet didn’t want to come up for air. She let him use her, position her, move her any way he wanted, for he always gave more than he took. Always.
Whatever must have happened out there in the woods, it rattled him. Sorcha could understand; her own worries had dominated her day. She’dmissedhim, his absence a sharp pain in her heart. Now, she was content to let her mate soothe all that away with his purrs and kisses and thrusting cock.
Her halfling was insatiable, keeping her up into what had to be the wee hours of the night. Every time she thought he was done and ready to fall into sleep with her, that determined, almost wild look returned to his eyes and he was on her again, tongue and teeth and fingers.
When it was finally too much, her body spent, Sorcha whispered to him, “Hold me, my love.”
His purr still held that deeper note, something dark and possessive and almost frantic, but he arranged her one last time, pulling the furs and blankets strewn about the bed up to cover them as he settled behind her.
Sorcha sighed happily as his arms slipped around her and she was enveloped in his warmth. They were sticky with sweat and spend, but she didn’t care, glorying in the heavy scent of their lovemaking and the press of his skin to hers.
One of his big hands slid over her flank to draw her leg up over his hip. His cock, still impossibly hard, glided inside, and her muscles held on in a tired but welcoming grip. He didn’t move further, just lay with her, filling her up.
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, up to her ear where he whispered, “Sleep, my heart.”
Sorcha hummed, tangling their fingers together and squeezing the muscles of her belly just a little. He purred for her, and she fell asleep to the sound, content, full, and so achingly in love with him.
Orek held his mate all night, unable and unwilling to sleep. He couldn’t waste what time he had left, and so instead memorized everything he could by the low firelight from the hearth.
He already knew all of her colors, all her tastes and textures, but he committed them to memory again, hungry for everything. He wanted her etched into every sense, into his very skin and bone. All night, he gently touched her with light fingers, rubbing their spend into her skin to saturate them in their scent.
Orek wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to do it when the time came. With every passing hour, he began to doubt his plan.
Should he wake her? Tell her what happened?
He’d promised to tell her everything later. She likely thought he meant tomorrow, but truly, he’d meant when he returned. If he returned.
He bit off the growl in his throat.I’ll return to her.
Yes, he would. He had to do this. Her father wouldn’t know what to do about orcs. Orek would never forgive himself if any of her family was hurt.
No, this was his burden. He’d brought this danger to her and he, as her mate, had to protect her.
So when the darkest hour of night passed and the moon began its retreat to the horizon, Orek pulled away from his mate.
He clad himself without washing away her scent, needing to keep it with him as long as he could. He’d need it for the cold nights ahead.
In only a few silent minutes, he had his pack ready. He took everything he’d brought with him to the Brádaigh home—all except the fur covering his mate and little Darrah.
The kit watched him, black eyes glittering. Orek picked him up, burying his face in the furry body. Darrah licked his jaw, his little paws kneading at his neck.
