Page 63 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“I don’t know how to choose. I only know how to obey.”
“Then learn.” She pulled his head down, closing the distance between them. “Start with this. This moment. This choice.”
And she kissed him, fierce and demanding, and his control shattered.
His arms came around her, pulling her against him until there was no space between them. Until he could feel every curve of her body pressed against his.
Mine.
His Beast roared its satisfaction.
Ours. Keep her. Claim her. Never let go.
The kiss deepened, and her hands fisted in his tunic, holding on like he was the only solid thing in her world.
And maybe he was.
Maybe they were both drowning, and this—this—was the only thing keeping them afloat.
He backed her through her doorway, and kicked the door shut behind them. His hands found her waist, lifting her easily.
She wrapped her legs around him with a small sound that went straight to his head. To his soul.
He carried her toward the bed, but stopped halfway there, pressing her against the wall again. This time there was no anger between them. Only want.
“Khorrek.” She gasped his name as his mouth moved to her throat. As his teeth scraped delicately over her pulse point.
His tusk grazed her skin, not quite breaking the surface, and she shuddered against him, her hips moving in a rhythm that made his blood burn.
Yes. This. More.
He tore impatiently at her dress and heard it rip, but all he cared about was the delicate softness of her skin beneath his hands. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to send a jolt straight through him.
Need. Want. Mine.
He lifted her higher against the wall, tugging the ruined dress away to reveal her small, perfect breasts. He took one rosy peak into his mouth, and her taste exploded on his tongue as her head fell back against the wall. He laved and sucked and nipped until she was writhing against him, soft little cries escaping her lips with each pull of his mouth.
He shifted to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. His hand moved down, exploring the curve of her hip, the soft swell of her belly, the dip of her waist.
Her breathing grew ragged, her movements more frantic. Her hips rocked against him, seeking a friction she couldn’t quite find.
“Please,” she whispered, and he let her slide down the wall, dropping to his knees in front of her.
Her eyes widened as he looked up at her, meeting her eyes. And in her gaze, he saw everything he’d ever secretly craved—acceptance, desire, and something so much deeper it made his heart ache.
Mate.
He pulled the ruined skirt of her dress down over her hips, revealing slender thighs and a tangle of fiery curls already damp with arousal. His Beast roared at the scent of her desire.
“Need to taste you,” he growled, spreading those pale perfect thighs.
She cried out, her hands tangling in his hair as his tongue found the sensitive nub hidden within her folds. A sharp, shocked sound that was music to his ears escaped when he circled it with his tongue. He explored every slick inch, learning what pleased her. Her taste intoxicated him, a sweet, musky flavor that went straight to his head.
Her hips bucked against his mouth, her movements growing more desperate as he drove her higher and higher. He worked a finger inside her tight little channel, and she gasped his name, a sound of pure need that drove his own arousal higher. She was so wet, so perfect.
“Khorrek. Oh gods. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He didn’t, his tongue flicking and swirling as his finger pumped in and out. She cried out his name as her orgasm washed over her, her muscles clenching around his finger in rhythmic pulses that made his own body ache with need.
