Page 57 of Her Orc Blacksmiths

“Clean his dick, sweetheart,” he demands, his voice harsh, his breath coming in short pants. “Clean him up so he’s ready for you.”

I moan and reach for Morg, who slides within reach and spreads his legs for me. Bracing one hand beside his hip, I wrap the fingers of my other hand around his knot, then lick his cockhead delicately. The taste, an exquisite mixture of his salty-sweet cum and my juices, has me moaning, and Morg’s cock twitches against my mouth. I lick all around the broad cockhead, then suck it down, sliding my lips as far down the shaft as they’ll go.

“That’s my good little human.” Torren’s voice is a broken whisper. “Are you ready to come for me again?”

I nod without releasing Morg’s cock, thinking Torren will touch my pearl, but he swipes Morg’s cum and my slickness up to my ass and slowly, carefully, pushes his thumb inside me.

The sensation of fullness increases, and I cry out around Morg’s length. Morg twitches his hips, then draws away from me.

“I don’t want to come in your mouth tonight, Jasmine,” he growls as he reaches beneath me to cup my tits. “Now come for Torren. He wants to give you all his cum, but he needs you to come first.”

He pinches my nipples, hard, and Torren thrusts his cock deep inside me, then presses his thumb down, impaling me completely. My climax rolls over me, and I scream, inner walls pulsing, hands scrambling for something to hold on to.

Then Morg is there, holding me, and as my body loosens, Torren pushes his knot past my pussy lips, lodging in me. He roars his release, every spurt of his hot cum branding me from the inside.

“Fuck, fuck,” he groans, shuddering.

He pulls away from my ass and curls his big body over me, as if he’s barely keeping himself upright. His cock pulses inside me, prolonging our climaxes.

“You’re amazing,” I whimper. “That felt so good, Torren.”

He rolls us to the side and wraps his arms around me. “This is everything I ever wanted. The two of you, in my bed.”

I glance up at Morg, who’s staring down at Torren with surprise. But as I watch, tenderness replaces the initial shock, and he pushes back his hair, then lies on his side in front of me. “That’s all I want, too.”

TORREN

Hours later, my mates sleep beside me, exhausted from our evening of vigorous fucking. Morg is still buried deep inside Jasmine, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s sleeping right on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, cheek pressed on his broad chest. But she reached her hand out for me just before she slipped away into her dreams, and my heart nearly burst with love.

I will be the best father to our child. I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, if it’s Morg’s or mine, I already know that I will protect my family with my life and do everything in my power to ensure they’re happy and safe.

In the silvery moonlight streaming through the window, I admire their faces, relaxed in their rest. I don’t know what I did to earn not one, but two mates as perfect as they are, but here they are.

Rising from the bed, I close the shutters on the window, so the early morning sun won’t wake us. Jasmine needs rest after all the times we fucked her tonight. Then I latch the door, making sure we’re safe. No one will bother us here, but if a bear came sniffling around after our food, that wouldn’t be good.

At last, I return to our bed and stretch out beside them. After a moment, I put my arm over them both, my palm resting on Morg’s hip.

Morg opens one eye and peers at me, then lets out a yawn. Wordlessly, he shifts to the side and places Jasmine in the space between us. His knot must have dislodged, but he doesn’t bother cleaning himself up—we’ll do that in the morning. She doesn’t wake but curls into his body, so I fit myself to her back, her sweet ass resting against my groin.

It’s how we usually fall asleep, and I close my eyes, already halfway gone. But then Morg’s hand lands on my waist, so I look at him, eyebrows raised. He’s never cuddled me before, not like this, after the passion of our lovemaking has died down.

In the darkness of the cabin, his face is shadowed, but I still make out his smile. He likes this, and I know this is how we’ll be sleeping from now on, truly entwined together.

“Good night, Torren,” he murmurs.

I let out a long, happy sigh. “Good night.”

Epilogue Two

Six months later

JASMINE

Torren holds my hand as I step down from the driver’s seat of a merchant’s wagon in the village where my aunt lives. Morg follows close behind, hovering near me, his palm brushing the small of my back in a protective gesture. He taps lightly against the leather belt slung around my hips and the dagger sheathed there.

I never go anywhere without it. It was a gift from both my mates on the anniversary of my arrival at the Hill. They’d forged it together, one of several pieces they’ve done since we started a relationship. Morg forged the blade, a double-edged, narrow spike just a bit longer than my hand, and Torren made the handle, inlaying it with real gold in a pattern of floral vines.

It’s the most precious thing I own.

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