Page 89 of The Orc Outcast's Mate

“Yes, yes.” She jerked her hips. “Yes, I want you.”

He growled with pleasure as a thick finger sank deep into her, forcing her to thrust and writhe. He pumped in and out, and she couldn’t manage words even as she tried to beg for more.

He must have been able to read her mind because he speared another finger into her, spread them apart, stretching her until the delicious sting made her eyes cross.

“Come for me, Miranda,” Govek demanded against the top of her head. “Relent.”

And she did, helplessly. Ecstasy exploded behind her eyes and rolled through her stomach. He made her take more and drove her mad as her brain flooded with deep, quaking bliss so powerful she saw stars.

She clung to him so hard it must be bruising him. She wrapped her legs around his calves and dug her heels into the back of his knees, shivering and gasping as her pleasure faded.

He held his hand up to her view, drenched and reddened from her orgasm. His face was a mask of brutal desire, all teeth and piercing golden eyes. “Now tell me, Miranda, should I wash or lick this clean?”

“Fuck.” She gasped as another shot of pleasure rocked through her, making her twitch. She should be demanding he go clean up, but instead she curled into him. Her core pulsing with delicious aftershocks and her mouth going dry with a desire to kiss him again.

He chuckled, the deep rumble warming her gut as he pressed his nose into her hair, right next to her ear. He dragged her scent into his lungs as if he were trying to breathe in her essence. “Fuck, Miranda. The things you make me want to do to you.”

“Like what?” She managed passed her own gasping, only to lose her voice again as his laughter rumbled. It vibrated through her, causing tingling over her skin.

He scooped her up off the barrel, grinning. “Allow me to take you home and I will show you.”

“I’m supposed to be showing you the things I want to do to you, not watching you slave over my stove.”

The kitchen was a complete mess of ingredients. She’d burned about half of what she’d tried to make. Almost every one of his dishes had been dirtied and Miranda couldn’t help being frustrated at how inefficient she was at preparing food this new way.

And Govek was getting impatient.

She couldn’t blame him.

“Here, taste this next,” Miranda said, holding a fork of fried onions up to his lips.

His irritation abated, and he took the fork into his mouth without hesitation. His eyes shuttered closed, and he chewed slowly as if that might make the tiny bite she’d given him last longer. As if she wouldn’t give him another one in less than five minutes.

“Does it need more salt?” she asked after he’d finally swallowed.

“No,” he said, voice somewhat hushed. He lingered next to her, clearly wanting more, but not wanting to ask.

She’d run out of ingredients before she put everything together if she wasn’t careful. Two pans of onions were still smoking and charred. Govek had said he’d eat them anyway, but she wanted to get this right for him.

He said he didn’t like cooking, so she fully intended to take the job over. Even if heating the wood fire stove with different types of magic-laced kindling was nearly impossible to comprehend.

She fiddled with one of the twigs nearest her, wondering if she should add more heat.

“Don’t use that one.”

She looked at him. “Will I light the house on fire?”

“No, but your onions will burn. Again.”

She sighed heavily. “This is impossible. It’s so hard to tell them apart.”

“That’s only because you cannot see the magic within them,” Govek said. “You need not do this, Miranda. I am happy to cook for you.”

“I want to do it,” Miranda said, reaching up to scratch at his hairline. “And you’ve barely eaten anything today.”

He stilled, brows pinched.

“Let’s get you refueled a little before you show me all the lavish things you want to do in the bedroom. Or on the couches. Or the table.”

---