Page 6 of Orn and the Real Girl
I squirmed in my seat, throwing off blankets that had gotten too hot and rough against my sensitive flesh, the wetness between my thighs both winding me up and disturbing me at the same time. What waswrongwith me, that I was so ready to lech on the kind stranger who’d helped me in my hour of need? He was probably not even truly interested in me; I was no orcish woman, known for their zest and vigor and power in bedsport.I was soft, plush, and while I knew I was beautiful, who was to say that an orc would see the same beauty? I busied myself with eating, doing my best to banish my heated thoughts and focus on the here and now.
I raised my gaze from my plate, unable to resist glancing at Orn, and to my surprise, he was staring at me, an expression on his flushed face like amazement. His hands were clamped tight on the edge of his table, claws digging into the wood, veins and tendons standing out stark against his warm green skin everywhere I could see. I was alarmed, my plate lowering to my lap. “Orn? Are you alright?” I asked, cold dread winding into my stomach and souring my meal.
He pushed back from the table and strode to the door in a rush, his frame tense and his back kept carefully to me. “I’ve just realized I need more wood for the fire!” he called over his shoulder, throwing a coat, scarf, boots, and a pair of gloves on at the door. “I’ll be a little while, so go ahead and finish eating and then feel free to poke about!” His voice was tight and ragged, and he cleared his throat a little before speaking again. He turned towards me a little more, enough that I could see his face in profile. “Lock the door behind me and don’t open it for anyone, Sara. You’ll know it’s me because I’ll knock like this—“ he rapped on the wall, a short, quick rhythm:dundundunDUN, dundundunDUN.
“O...kay...” I said slowly, concerned and confused at the sudden shift in his demeanor. “If I did something to offend you, I’m truly sorry, Orn. I was just kidding about the kidnapping, I hope you know—“
“Of course! I’m fine, you’ve nothing to worry about!” he called with false levity, throwing open his heavy door and stepping out into the howling wind and snow. “Remember, lock the door!” he threw over his shoulder as he shut the door, leaving me alone and blinking at the solid wood planks.Whatin the names of the gods wasthat?I thought, setting my unfinished plate onto the stool by the bed and stroking Lena’s sweet little snub nose. I got up and did as Orn had said, setting the lock on the big door.
Strange man, Lena thought at me, and I nodded.Chin now please,she added after a moment. I obliged with a grin, switching to scratching her chin and throat, her thoughts becoming a constant stream of contentment and further instructions for me on where to tickle and scratch.
I did my best to clean up breakfast, putting the uneaten food into the small icebox and bringing the dishes to the sink. I couldn’t get the water to work, though, so I was forced to leave them there. I combed out my hair with my fingers, wincing at the endless knots in my long curls, then found a small lavatory and took care of my overfull bladder and my morning breath. The water in here, at least, seemed to work, so I also found a rag and cleaned my skin, keeping my clothes on to ward off the chill. It was much colder here, away from the fire, and the cold water didn’t help anything.
Once I was freshened up, I wandered around the small, cozy cabin, admiring Orn’s few possessions and looking for something to do while I waited for him to come back from fetching more wood. I felt guilty, like I was the reason he had to go out there, and with a stab of dismay I realized that I probably was—he’d had to build up the fire higher to take care of me, and used up more of his firewood in the process. I sighed, throwing myself back onto the bed.
There was an unexpected crinkle when my body met the mattress, and I sat up, brow lowered in confusion. I dug through the blankets until I found a sheaf of parchments, so well worn that my lying on them didn’t seem to have caused any additional wrinkling. The pages were filled with cramped,spidery Common, and after a sentence or two, I realized I was reading a story—a veryexplicitstory
Corella’s creamy skin glowed pink from her exertions, her small, pointed breasts swaying and shivering with the force of the orc’s hips slamming into her own. She mewled, small hands clawing into his arms and chest as the much larger orc captain pounded into her tight, wet slit.
Well, there goes the last of my self-control, I thought, my blood burning and humming in my veins.
I kept reading, my arousal heating into a wild blaze. It felt wrong, to read something that was clearly private. And there was the distinct possibility that Orn had written this himself—but even if he hadn’t, the condition of it spoke to its being well-loved.Bet that means I was right,my horny self purred at the back of my mind. Orn probablywouldfuck me senseless.
Something about that man had me thinking with my pussy, and I mused that perhaps my threat to tie him up and keep him might not have been so idle, after all.
CHAPTER FIVE
ORN
I KNEWthat I shouldn’t have bolted like that, but I was left with no choice; when I caught the scent of Sara’s arousal on the air, thick and tangy-sweet like honey, my body’s reaction was immediate and violent. Between one breath and the next my cock was an aching bar thrusting up obscenely from my groin, straining for Sara like a dog begging for table scraps. I’d felt my whole body heat and swell, my pulse thundering in my ears like a battle song. It had been all I could do to stop myself from tossing the table into the wall and pouncing on her then and there, when she’d done nothing but eat her food quietly.
I hadn’t pressed her for details, but it was obvious that the little human woman had been through something awful before she made her way to my cabin seeking shelter and aid. I was the worst kind of monster to lust after her while she was so vulnerable.But shewasaroused,something dark and sinuous inside me whispered, nipping at my heels with questions. But it didn’t matter how aroused she was, the rational part of me knew; sometimes the body reacted strangely to stress and upset. And if she wanted me, she’d surely say something. Or give any indication at all of her interest. But Sara had been nothing but sweet and polite.
Calm down, you lout, I told myself as I finally reached my tool shed and dug out a wedge of the drifted-up snow to letme pull the door open and slip inside. My chopping axe was on the back wall, I knew—though it was too dark and murky in here to see. But I paused instead of grabbing it, my gloved hand drifting towards my groin, where my arousal was still howling and insistent. I bit my lip, glancing at the door, before ripping my gloves off with a growl and dropping my loose pants to my ankles, freeing my throbbing cock from its confines. I sank to my knees, my hand already stroking the hot, leaking length before I’d even fully settled. Bliss radiated from even that small, rough touch, and I groaned, my eyes squeezing closed.
With the silence and the dark all around me, knowing that there was no chance Sara would stumble upon me or hear me, I let myself fall into a fantasy. I conjured her deep brown skin and large, lively eyes. I pictured her sinfully full lips, so plush it felt like they couldn't be real, parted around panting breaths. I imagined what her large, heavy breasts might look like as they bounced and swayed under me. I imagined it was her honeyed cunt clenching around my shaft, rather than my hand, that her soft skin was under my other hand instead of being braced against my own thigh.
“Sara,” I ground out, utterly lost in the scene playing out behind my eyes, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So soft. I need you. Give me everything.”
Pleasure crested, my sac wrenching up tight and liquid heat barreling up my spine. I slowed my hand’s desperate pace, dancing on the razor’s edge before release for several blissful seconds, an undignified whine escaping from my lips. But even in my imagination, I had to ensure my partner came first, and so it wasn’t until I conjured Sara bucking and screaming under me, her neck arched and taut and her eyes rolled up into her skull, that I let my fist slide down to my swollen, sensitive knot and squeeze it like it was lodged in her cunt.
I came with a shattered roar, my body falling forward and my vision going spotty from the force of my orgasm. I could hear my seed hissing and spattering against the cold dirt floor of the shed, each hard throb rocking me and threatening to tug me unconscious. It went on for long seconds, longer than any other in my life, and by the end of it I was weak and trembling, wrung out and half-dead.
Once my vision cleared and I could get a proper lungful of air, I rose on shaky legs, pulling my pants back up and over my hips, wincing at the rub of the fabric over my too-sensitive flesh. I grabbed the axe from the wall and opened the door again for some light so I could kick dirt onto the river of seed painted across the floor.
With a heaving sigh, I left the shed, turning to my woodcutting area. I chopped wood for close to an hour in the snow, letting the burn in my muscles and the sweat running down my body cleanse my spirit of the last of its unwelcome lusts. Sara was myguest, was trusting me to take care of her and protect her from whatever she’d been running from, and I could not, under any circumstances, allow myself to abuse that trust.
Once I was thoroughly worn out and had a nice pile of fresh logs to bring inside, I returned my chopping axe to its place in the shed, eyeing the conspicuous dirt piles with shame, and bundled the wood to bring inside. I knocked on the front door in the pattern I’d showed Sara earlier, pleased she’d listened to me and locked it, and waited for her to open the door for me.
I wasn’t waiting long, the latch clattering on the other side in an instant, but I wasn’t prepared for what welcomed me when I helped her push the heavy ironwood door open.
The smell of arousal was stronger than ever, re-inflating my traitorous cock in an instant. The scent was so thick on the air I could taste it, was dazed by it like it had struck me in the head with the force of a boulder.
And clutched in her small brown hands was the story I’d been reading in bed when she’d arrived last night, forgotten and no doubt trapped somewhere among the blankets for her to find. I cursed myself a thousand times, preparing to slam the door shut in her face and justrun, but before I could she grabbed my coat lapels and dragged me inside with surprising strength, kicking the door shut behind us both.
CHAPTER SIX
SARA
