Page 30 of Scoring the Orc

I want to resist, but my body betrays me. His hands begin to move, massaging my shoulders and neck with a skill that leaves me melting under his touch. I close my eyes, letting out a soft sigh as his fingers work their magic.

“No attitude?” he says, his voice a soothing rumble. “You’ve finally given in to how much you want me?”

I can’t find the words to argue, and I don’t want to. His hands move lower, caressing my skin with a gentle firmness that sends waves of pleasure through me. I lean back further into his embrace, feeling the hard planes of his chest against my back.

“Jurto,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need.

He responds with a soft growl, his hands sliding around to cup my breasts. I gasp at the sensation, arching into his touch as his fingers tease and knead my sensitive flesh.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his lips trailing down my neck. “You like it when I touch you.”

“Yes,” I breathe, unable to deny it. His touch is intoxicating, and I can feel myself growing wetter with every stroke of his hands.

“Good,” he says, his voice a dark promise. “Because I plan to make you feel even better.”

His hands slide lower, tracing the curve of my waist and hips before dipping between my thighs. I moan as his fingers find my most sensitive spot, teasing and caressing with a skill that leaves me trembling.

“Jurto, please,” I gasp, my body aching for more.

He chuckles, a low, wicked sound. “Patience, Emilia. I want to savor this.”

His fingers continue their torment, driving me to the edge of pleasure and holding me there. I writhe against him, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I try to find release.

“Please,” I beg, my voice a desperate plea.

He growls in approval, his fingers moving faster, harder. I can feel the tension building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until I’m sure I’m going to snap.

And then I do. The orgasm crashes over me, a wave of pure, mind-blowing pleasure that leaves me crying out his name. My body shakes with the force of it, and I collapse against him, boneless and spent.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice a tender rumble. “Didn’t that feel good?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice weak and trembling. “Thank you.”

He holds me close, his hands gentle now as they stroke my skin. I can feel his desire, hot and hard against my back, and there’s a moment of stillness before he makes his move. His breath warms my ear as he murmurs, "I'm not done with you yet."

My heart races as he shifts, lifting me effortlessly so that I’m turned to face him. His eyes burn with intensity, and for a moment, I’m lost in the depths of his gaze. There’s a hunger there, but also something else—something deeper, more profound. He leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s both demanding and tender, his hands roaming over my body, setting every nerve afire.

“Jurto,” I whisper against his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Please.”

His response is a low growl. He lifts me out of the water, setting me on the edge of the tub. The cool air hits my wet skin, making me shiver, but his body is there, warm and solid against me. He spreads my legs, positioning himself between them, his eyes locked on mine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His hands travel down my body, caressing my breasts, my waist, my hips. “I want to make you feel good again.”

I nod, unable to find my voice. The need in his eyes mirrors my own, and when he finally enters me, it’s like coming home. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves me gasping. He moves slowly at first, letting me adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Yes,” I breathe, wrapping my legs around his waist. “More.”

He complies, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through me, building the tension once more. His hands find my breasts, squeezing and teasing, while his mouth moves to my neck, sucking and biting in a way that drives me wild.

“Jurto,” I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. The sound of our bodies moving together fills the small room, a symphony of pleasure that drowns out everything else. I can feel myself climbing again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside me.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his breath hot against my skin. “So perfect.”

His words push me closer to the edge, and I cling to him, my body arching into his. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, a white-hot fire that threatens to consume me. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, I shatter.

The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, a flood of sensation that leaves me crying out his name. My body convulses around him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. He follows me over the edge, his own release crashing through him as he groans my name, his grip on me tightening.

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