Page 20 of Rapunzel's Outlaw Orc
“Sorry,” she gasps. She doesn’t sound like she means it, though.
I hook an arm around her waist, rolling us, drawing her down beneath me. She’s spread out, wild hair and roots everywhere, her eyes locked on mine as I drag the shirt off over my head.
Her eyes fall to my chest, her gaze tracking downward. Why I expect to see horror or revulsion painted across her perfect face, I don’t know, but it’s what I expect. And I’m wrong. She doesn’t look at me like I’m a monster unworthy of her. She stares up at me like I’m the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
One hand rises, oh so slowly, before a fingertip traces down a particularly nasty scar I received on the battlefield. Her touch burns in a way nothing ever has, as if she’s electricity beneathme, vibrating to a frequency only I know. My cock throbs in time.
“One day, you’ll tell me how you received each of these,” she murmurs.
“One day,” I promise, more nervous about that than anything. Because that’s real pieces of me that no one else has ever had or known. I want to give them to her, though. I want her to know every ugly piece of my past, every tainted, dirty corner of my soul. I think I’d give them all to her if she asked it of me. Or perhaps I already have.
She said the roots delivered me to her. Maybe they delivered us to each other—two creatures adrift in a world that makes little sense, both in need of the other. This tower may have been her prison, but it kept her safe for me… and I found salvation within its walls, with her.
I kiss her again, pouring every ounce of desire into it. I paint her with need, letting it roll over her in a wave that leaves her gasping. When I break from her lips, she trembles beneath me, restless and aching.
I don’t leave her that way for long. Gods, no. I’m still too much of a beast to pull back now.
My hands trail across her body as I kiss a path down her chest, seeking out all those places I’ve tortured myself thinking about for the last three days—the hollow of her throat, the curve of her breast, the softness of her belly. She shifts and shivers beneath me, her hand drifting through my hair again.
When I land between her legs, I intend to remove the drenched scrap of fabric she calls panties slowly. Honest, I do. But Ismellher, and my restraint is already in tatters. They tear beneath my eager hands, shredding in my impatience.
“Brannock,” she gasps. It isn’t fear quivering in her voice, though. Gods, no. It’s all smoke and sin.
“My apologies,” I murmur, draping one leg over my shoulder. My lips and tusks run up her inner thigh. Gods alive. She smells divine, so sweet and tangy. A groan vibrates against her flesh, my hands tight enough to bruise as I fight for control that just isn’t coming.
“Make love to me,” she pleads so sweetly. “Make me yours.”
I bury my face between her legs with a roar of surrender.
The first lick is heaven. The second is nirvana.
She pulls at my hair, crying out my name in a way I know I’ll kill to hear again and again. I try to be gentle, to keep my tusks away from her delicate skin, but I’m a slavering beast between her legs. And every time my tusks press against her heated flesh, she sobs my name.
Honey spills from her, soaking my face in her pleasure. I lick up every drop and then go back for more. And still, I’m greedy and desperate. I press my tongue to her opening, forcing the tip of it into her. She’s so tight and so eager.
Her hips roll against my face as I use it like a cock, trying to get it as deep as I can, to taste and claim as much of her as I can.
“Brannock!” she cries, her voice breaking. “W-what.. Oh, Gods. W-why is that so good?”
“Because it’s you and me, Rapunzel,” I rasp against her flesh, pressing my thumb to her clit to drive her over the edge. “Let yourself fall for me. I’ll catch you.”
I want to beat my chest and roar when she gives herself over to me without hesitation or reservation. She bows beneath me, my name on her lips as she shatters apart at the seams, satisfied and babbling.
The tower trembles around us, pulsing as if it truly is part of her, reacting to the pleasure wracking her body. The roots pulse and twitch around us, seemingly quivering in delight.
I watch her in rapt fascination as she moans and writhes the same way they do, her face the picture of rapture. Gods, she’s perfect in every way.
But apparently, I don’t watch closely enough. Because I don’t see one hand snaking between our bodies, not until it’s pressing against my aching cock in a silent demand. Rapunzel isn’t satisfied with only a piece of me. She wants all of me, every inch, every festering wound, every scar.
I don’t hesitate to give them to her—to give myself to her. I am Brannock, outcast orc warrior… and hers.
My hands slip to my leather pants, covering hers. Our eyes lock as we work together to pull them down. I intend to strip out of them completely, but as soon as they’re around my knees, her hand brushes my erection, and I forget everything else.
“Rapunzel,” I growl, my fingers locking around her wrist in a desperate bid to keep from spilling across her perfect fingers.
The way she smiles at me tells me that she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. She’s all innocent sweetness and sinful need, guided by instinct and desire.
“You touched me,” she says.
