Page 97 of Halfling
His big hands filled her braies from behind, fingers working her with sure, merciless strokes that had her squirming against his chest in just a few moments. One hand opened her to his questing fingers, swirling through her gathering slick, while the other pulled down her braies. Her skin pebbled in the cool autumn air, and she squeaked when the hot bar of his cock landed between the cheeks of her ass.
“What if someone—” she choked, thinking fleetingly of the mining communities in the area.
“Let them,” he growled into her neck. “Let them see how I make my female scream.”
If they didn’t see it, they certainly heard it.
She couldn’t hold back, not with his thick length pushing inside then dragging out of her so deliciously, a burning stretch every time that melted into molten pleasure. She threw back her head and screamed, too far gone to care if they scared the birds or any nearby townspeople.
His hand came around her neck, holding her throat and her scream, and he rumbled to feel it in his hand. His pace somehow increased, a brutal rhythm that had Sorcha digging her nails into the tree bark.
When she came apart, it was with a wail that shook the forest canopy. He was right behind her, slapping his hands over hers on the tree as his hips pumped and smacked against her backside.
They didn’t make it very much farther that day. And it wasn’t the last tree to take part in their play. Darrah was on his way to becoming a consummate climber, occupying himself in the branches as Orek slid inside her from behind, or with her legs wrapped around his hips, or with a knee hooked over his elbow.
That night, and each one after, he made just one bed of blankets and furs. They’d barely be done with dinner when he was pulling her down into the softness of the nest and hardness of his body, claiming her for another night of shattering pleasure and deep sleep spent in his arms.
When it rained, or when he thought the ground would frost overnight, he made them a tent from his tarpaulin, a cozy pocket of darkness they filled with soft groans and nipping kisses. In the velvety dim, under his warm hands and mouth, Sorcha soaked up all his whispered promises, both dirty and endearing.
How perfect she was. How perfectly her tight cunt took his cock. How much he adored her. How he loved her mouth, most especially when she teased him.
And she teased him every chance she got, with her words, her tongue, her hands, her looks. She gave everything she had to show him just how much she adored him, too.
Because she did. She adored this male—from his blushes to his quiet confidence to his big green cock and everything in between.
Though if she was honest, her most favorite was the warm divot between his pectorals. She could never resist running her nose there before snuggling in to sleep, breathing him in as she shut her eyes and went lax in his arms, sure that she was safe and expectant for the next new day that would be full of him.
Little paws kneaded at her hair, and a wet, snuffling nose burrowed into her ear.
Sorcha groaned, cracking an eye open to see Darrah’s little snout in her face. His whiskers tickled her cheeks as he rooted around her head, trying to get her to move.
“Sorry, chipmunk,” she whispered, “I got here first.”
She’d fallen asleep on Orek’s chest, cheek squished into the meat of his pectoral. Despite having the basket he was quickly outgrowing, Darrah’s favorite place to snooze in the early morning was still Orek’s chest.
She understood the appeal. It was warm perfection, all soft skin and male scent.
When nipping at her ear didn’t get her to move, Darrah chittered at her and huffed. The sound was so close to one Orek made, Sorcha had to bite back a laugh.
Grumbling grumpily, Darrah padded further up, wedging himself between the top of her head and Orek’s chin. Sorcha grinned, petting his tail as he chuffed and made himself comfortable again.
Orek slept through it all, his chest rising and falling steadily. Even in sleep, his hand occasionally stroked her back, warm fingers reaching for her and keeping her tucked tight to him. She pressed a kiss into his skin, soaking in his scent and warmth.
It didn’t take long for Darrah to fall back asleep, and Sorcha followed him into a doze, far too comfortable to get up and meet the dawn.
Orek listened contentedly to the crackling fire, a sense of happiness lodged in his chest so sharp it almost scared him. He held everything most dear to him in the world in his arms, protected by the strength of his back.
He sat before their nightly campfire, Sorcha between his legs and leaned up against his chest. In her lap, Darrah rolled around playfully, fighting her for a morsel of dried carrot. The kit was more than thrice the size he’d been when they’d found him under that tree, and he was growing stronger by the day.
Orek hadn’t done much of a job teaching him to be a true raccoon, and he supposed it’d be impossible now to give Darrah back to the wilds. Just as well. He’d never have risked keeping an animal in the clan, not when Kaldar and others would hurt it to hurt Orek. But now, he didn’t think he could part with the little beast, so used to the furry weight on his shoulder.
He most certainly could never give up the female cuddled to him, laughing at the kit’s antics.
Orek drew his legs up a little and his arms a little tighter, just to pull them both that much closer. He buried his nose in Sorcha’s hair, kissing her ear and breathing her in.
What a change a few days could make.
He came out of that cave a different male than the one who’d gone in—and it was much more than finally getting his cock wet. He emerged into the sunlight a mated male, one whose whole world had shifted. Sorcha wasn’t just dear, she was the central focus of his life now. However he could help her, please her was most important.
