Page 40 of Her Orc Blacksmiths

I glance back at him, interest rising. “What?”

He gives me a wicked grin, then flicks his gaze to Torren as if he wants to gauge the effect of his words. “If you show him those tits. He’d probably die before saying it, but I bet he’d love to come all over them.”

Chapter

Fourteen

My eyes widen in surprise. I turn swiftly in Morg’s lap, facing Torren again.

“Fuck!” He throws his head back, staring at the ceiling, and slows the movement of his hand to squeeze his shaft just below the broad head. “Stop saying things like that, Morg. She’s a virgin, for fuck’s sake. You can’t?—”

He cuts himself off and groans, and Morg chuckles behind me. I don’t know how he can be so relaxed when his hardness pulses underneath me. All this wicked talk is fanning the flames in my belly, too, and I’m wet again, embarrassingly so. I squeeze my thighs together to soothe the ache, but it doesn’t help, not one bit.

Still, I want to prove to Torren that I can do this. That he doesn’t need to treat me so gently just because I’ve never done this before. I want to learn everything they can teach me, and learn it well.

With trembling fingers, I reach for the laces on my dress. Torren’s eyes are still closed, but Morg grows still behind me—only his breaths quicken in anticipation. I tug at the strings and loosen my neckline, then draw the dress off my shoulders, followed by my stays and undershirt. I sit on the edge of the bed, naked from the waist up.

“Torren,” I whisper. “Will you look at me?”

He opens his eyes and finds my gaze again—and then he drops it to my chest, to my bare breasts. Tits, Morg called them, such a crude word. I cup both of them in my palms and lift them slightly. The nipples are still tender from Morg’s teasing.

Torren’s hips jerk forward, and he stares at me, his mouth open. Then he rasps, “Play with them for me.”

I obey his order, pinching the pink tips between my fingers. Morg kisses my neck, my shoulder, his hands smoothing down my arms and hips, and I shiver uncontrollably, wanting more but unsure of how to ask for it.

Torren’s movements speed up, and his hand flies over his cock, pausing every so often to squeeze his knot. His harsh breaths and the sound of his fist fill the room. His rhythm stutters and he lets out a guttural groan.

His cum explodes from him in a violent stream, splashing straight onto my chest. It’s hot, and there’s more of it. He strokes himself through his climax. What I saw dripping down his shaft earlier was nothing compared to this, and I stare, mouth open in delight. He pumps himself dry, marking me—and Morg, whose hands are tight on my belly.

I’m surprised he didn’t move away. I glance over my shoulder at him to find his gaze burning with lust. He enjoyed this as much as I did, even if he might pretend after that he didn’t.

“Fuck.”

Torren sits heavily on the chair, his hand dropping to the side. It’s sticky with cum, as is his cock, which remains hard, much to my surprise. I study the bulging knot at the bottom of the shaft—it’s a little thicker than before. It makes sense for the cock to stay rigid, though, if the knot’s purpose is to remain stuck inside.

“Here.” Morg shuffles behind me, then hands me a wadded-up shirt to wipe myself.

I swipe Torren’s cooling cum off my chest, shivering when the linen fabric rasps over my oversensitive breasts. Now that Torren has given us such a gift, trusting us to witness this, I wish I could find release again, but Morg is the only one who still hasn’t gotten his, so I don’t want to be too greedy.

I turn on the bed to find Morg lying on his back, his chest naked. I thought he might have picked up one of Torren’s discarded shirts, but it seems he used his own. He’s breathing hard, one hand on his waistband, though he’s not doing anything to help himself like Torren did.

“Just give me a moment,” he groans, his other arm thrown over his eyes.

I smile, then crawl up so I can reach his face. I press a quick kiss to his mouth. “So you enjoyed that as much as I did?”

He mumbles, “Aye. Who would have thought?”

Torren’s low chuckle fills the room. “I enjoyed you watching me, if that helps.”

Morg lets out another moan that goes straight to my core.

“Stop talking,” he demands. “Or I’ll embarrass myself right here.”

Torren meets my gaze and inclines his head to the side. “Jasmine, would you like to help him with that?”

My heartbeat jumps at the suggestion. “Yes! Will you—will you tell me how?”

Torren leans forward, his elbows on his knees. He still hasn’t pulled his pants up, and I suspect he might want another round as well, but he only says, “Take his cock out and see what feels good. Morg will tell you, won’t he?”

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