Page 36 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

“Yes. Good girl,” I grit out. “That’s it. Ride me. Ride me to your pleasure.”

Denying my own greedy cock has never been as difficult as now, yet I wouldn’t give up a second of touching her. I palm her sex, letting her grind her sensitive pearl on the heel of my hand as I indulge both of us and slip a finger inside her.

Wet heat engulfs me, her muscles clamping tight, and it’s my turn to moan. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She tips over the edge, her inner walls fluttering around me in the most intoxicating of dances. Keening, my moon boundcollapses forward, panting against my neck. It takes several seconds, but the ragged sounds of her breath turn into little demands of “More.”

Who am I to deny her?

Bracing my feet, I adjust my grip on her thigh, wishing I had both hands free but unable to take the time to do anything about it. The fruit’s spell has not yet let her go. I can still feel the extra layer of magic dancing through her.

I slide a second finger into her, and she’s so tight it’s only possible because of her slick wetness and previous orgasms.

My bride straightens, and her whole body freezes, her mouth dropping open into a perfect O. She shivers, and I hold still, letting her adjust to the stretch.

“Do you feel this?” I slip both fingers forward. “These aren’t as big as my cock. Can you imagine it inside you?”

“Oh, god,” she whimpers. “Oh, yes.”

“I’m going to fill you so full you won’t be able to think of anything else ever again but my cock.” I pull my fingers out by an inch. “Mine.”

Then I shove them deep into the hot velvet of her core, working them in and out of her, the tips curled upward. When I find the spot that makes her gasp, I make sure to brush over it again and again.

Her gasps change to breathy little moans of, “Yes. Yes, yours,” and my cock leaps against the confines of my leather pants at each one, pulsing in time with her need.

I press both fingers to that special place and rub them over it, hard. “Come for me,” I command. “Come for me like the good girl you are.”

And she does, shattering around my fingers with a wail of delight as her entire body shakes in a prolonged orgasm that goes on and on until she collapses against me in limp exhaustion.

Her final pleasure unravels the last of the Faerie Fruit spell, and it dissipates into the air with one final burst of sweetness.

Taylor’s legs lose their grip on my waist, and I slip my hand free of her clothes to hold her to me.

Even though some small warrior part of me remained aware of our surroundings throughout, the rest of the world rushes back in. The sun dips to the horizon, cresting the tops of the western trees. A cool breeze carries away the last of the intense fruit smell.

The sprites lull drunkenly on the blackberry bush, too caught up in eating the last of the fruit to bother us further. Their magic affects them, but more as a simple intoxicant.

Storm grazes at the far side of the clearing, his back to us, offering us what privacy he can while still staying close enough to act as a guard. He turns his head now, spearing me with a blue eye, and I offer him a nod of thanks.

Mist doesn’t appear to be back yet, and it’s a blessing, as I have little desire to be teased by her knowing looks.

I walk over to Storm. Inside the tree line stands a clear space large enough for the tent but still offering some cover from easy sight. I set my bride down on a soft patch of moss and make camp quickly, erecting the tent and covering the floor with my furs.

When I lay Taylor on them, she stirs, her hand reaching out to brush over the erection still straining the front of my pants. The combined scent of her arousal and my seed fills the tent, and her touch makes me hiss between clenched teeth.

“You,” she whispers, as if the one word says everything she needs. “You.”

My teeth grind together, every muscle of my body straining toward her. But I will not take her—not under these conditions when she’s not fully herself.

Yet I’m no saint. I can deny myself no longer—I will have my release.

The tent’s never seemed so small as I back as far away as possible from temptation and lay down facing Taylor, who rolls onto her side toward me.

As big and green as the rest of my body, my cock leaps forward as I tug the laces of my pants loose, eager and straining. Watching my moon bound break on my fingers had been the most erotic sight of my life, and it’s desperately hard.

When I wrap my hand around it, the jolt of delayed pleasure is so great I almost come there and then. I grit my teeth, holding onto the frayed threads of my control. I will woo her with what I can do, prove I’m a lover with stamina. Even if it kills me, and goddess, it feels like it might. A wash of orc seed leaks from the tip, and I slick it down my length, my fingers bumping over the barbell piercings on the underside with little jolts of sensation.

My bride’s beautiful brown eyes widen. “Oh. My. God. You’re pierced!”

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