Page 30 of Claimed By the Wild Orc
“I’m sure,” I whispered. “I want you.”
That was all it took.
His mouth claimed mine again, fierce and desperate, and his hands moved under my dress, dragging the fabric up over my hips. I helped him strip it away until my bare skin met his.
He looked at me then—reallylooked—and the hunger in his eyes made my knees tremble.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low and reverent.
Then he laid me back on the furs.
He moved slowly at first, exploring every inch of me with his mouth, his hands, his tongue. My breath came in short gasps, my body aching for him. When he finally entered me, he did it in one slow, careful thrust, his hand at my hip, holding me steady.
I cried out—not in pain, but in shock, in pleasure, inrelief.
He filled me completely.
And then he moved.
Slow at first, then deep, each thrust a promise, a possession, a worship. His mouth was at my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
Then harder, rougher, his restraint snapping with each sound I made, each time I cried out his name.
“Gorran,” I begged, my nails clawing down his back. “More—don’t stop?—”
He growled and gave me everything.
He bit my shoulder, marking me with his teeth, and I screamed for him, my body breaking apart under the force of him.
I scratched his back until it bled, until I felt nothing but the fierce rhythm of his body slamming into mine, his hands gripping my thighs, his mouth on my throat.
We shattered together.
And when it was over, we collapsed into the furs, tangled and raw, skin to skin.
His arm came around me, dragging me close, his breathing slowing against my ear.
I felt owned.
I felt safe.
For the first time in my life, those things didn’t feel like opposites.
They felt likehome.
GORRAN
The morning sun filtered through the cave mouth in slanted ribbons, golden and warm. A breeze stirred the ashes of last night’s fire, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth and her—always her.
Mira lay tangled in the furs behind me, bare limbs draped in soft sleep, the marks of our claiming still faint along her throat and thighs. Her scent clung to my skin, to my mouth. I could still taste her, feel her fingers raking through my hair, hear the broken sound of my name on her tongue when I made her come apart beneath me.
Satisfaction. Bliss. Pride.
She was mine.
No more running away, no more walls, no more hesitation. Last night, she gave herself to me fully—not because she had to, but because shewantedto.
She was my mate now. No question.
