Page 28 of Bound to the Orc Ranger

Then Rovann’s moving, one big hand under my butt to hold me steady as his thrusts rock the sturdy bed. More of the intoxicating seed pours from him, adding to my wetness. He growls over and over, a litany of “Mine.”

“Yes,” I sob, lost in pleasure. “Yes, yours.”

I cling to his shoulders, my body moving, meeting his, already greedy for more. Sex has never been like this.I’venever been like this. Being with Rovann is as magical as everything else in this amazing world.

“That’s it, my moon bound. You’re taking my cock so well, letting me fill you full.” He groans as his words make my core clench, “You were made for me. Just as I was made for you.”

He speeds up. My heart pounds, my whole body tingling and tightening. The stretch of his huge size, the texture of his piercings, the lick of his stud on my nub—it’s all overwhelming.

Rovann roars, his hips snapping forward in a hot splash of fluid I can feel deep inside.

Sensation bursts through me like a bolt of lightning, firing my nerves and setting my whole body alight. I hang suspended in bright pleasure that builds as Rovann grows evenbiggerinside of me.

The tingle of magic burns on my chest, and I cry out, his voice echoing mine. It’s not my crystal, which fell back and to the side long minutes ago.

Rovann pushes upright, and something tugs at my entrance. My body clamps down, sending another shuddering shock of pleasure racing through me. “Oh, god. What’s that?”

“It’s my knot.” He grins, all masculine pride. “It will lock us together for a while. It proves you’re my bride.”

“It doesn’t happen with everyone?”

“Only with you.” He smoothes my hair from my face.

But something new catches my attention. I gasp as my fingers trace over the tattoo on his chest. A crescent moon with a filigree inside. All I seem able to do is ask questions. “What’s this?”

His eyes widen as he sees the tattoo, then he touches my chest, right over my heart. “You have one too.”

He’s right! A smaller version of the crescent moon decorates my skin, its deep-green color a reflection of his. That’s what I felt burning before.

“They’re moon bound mate marks. I’d heard stories, but to see the Moon Goddess bless our union like this…” Awe fills his voice. Rovann cups my cheek, his eyes so full of love my heart feels like it will burst. “We were always meant to be, fated to find one another. I love you, my bride.”

“I love you, my husband!” I strain upward, offering my lips, and lose myself in his kiss.

The next evening, my body still aches with the satisfaction of being well loved. Every time Rovann’s knot subsided enough to release us, he made love to me again. I’ve never felt such pleasure. We held each other all night, the knotting creating an intimacy such as I’ve never known. We even had a whispered conversation about children, not knowing if it would be possible between human and orc, but happy to try and try again.

I hum as I dance around the kitchen. Everything in my new home is carved of heart tree wood in a rich honey color, the grain glorious and full of lovely whorls. Slanting golden sunlight pours through the open windows, lighting the room.

Water runs from a tap, delivered by the tree, and there’s even a bathroom with a self-composting toilet that feeds the tree and smells like clean sawdust.

I shooed Rovann away a half hour ago. He needed to meet with his brother, the clan warlord, to discuss the new standing stone and the threat of the ogres coming onto orc land.

Clutching my crystal, I conjure ingredients, flour and yeast and tomatoes popping into existence followed by cloves of fresh garlic—real garlic, the good kind like Nonna always bought.

My magic is wonderful, allowing me to make any food I imagine. But my grandmother taught me that the real magic of food is in the love you put into it, so I’m making a pizza for my husband from scratch.

The dough is on its last rise when the high cry of a pixie comes from the open window. It’s the leader.

“Come in,” I say. “I still don’t know your name.”

She flies over to hover in front of me, her tiny face serious. “Pixie names are special, but you are a special friend. I am Bluebell.”

I grin. “It’s the perfect name.”

She points to the pan as I stir the thickening tomato sauce and add a handful of fresh oregano.

“Pizza?”

“Yep, pizza.”

---