Page 38 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

Then he washes my hands carefully with the cleaning cloth before reaching into my jeans one last time, wiping me with soft little touches that seem too gentle from someone so large.

He certainly hadn’t been gentle with his cock. Heat flares in my cheeks. God, it was so effing hot watching him. I’ve never done anything like that. But I couldn’t have looked away if I wanted to.

And I sure as hell hadn’t wanted to.

Krivoth’s cock is as huge as the rest of him, thick and long, the deep green of his skin purpling slightly on the wide flared head. He also has a full Jacob’s Ladder, the double row of ball-tipped piercings running down the underside of his erection. I thought I also saw something else—another piercing right above his dick, but it was kinda hard to see, what with his massive cock in the way.

The way he fisted himself while making me those deliciously filthy promises and praising me—it was the most erotic moment of my life.

He buttons my jeans and pulls one of the furs over me, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I murmur a sleepy protest when he leaves the tent, but satiated exhaustion drags me under. The next time I surface, it’s late twilight, with Krivoth a darker patch against the roof of the tent.

“Eat.” He pulls me upright and places a drumstick in my hand.

The smell of the meat hits my nose, and my stomach growls. I devour it and the next one he hands me, barely chewing. As I end the meal by crunching on a tooth-brushing berry, wearinesstakes me again, and Krivoth tucks me in, surrounding me with a feeling of safety.

I drift off, a creature of comfort, all my wants satisfied.

Morning comes too soon and bright.

Krivoth releases me, despite my moaned “no,” and slips out of the tent, letting in even more light and a blast of cool air. The deep rumbles of his voice and Storm’s don’t penetrate my sleep-fogged brain with the clarity of words.

I pull the fur higher with a soft sigh and snuggle into the warm spot he left beside me, missing the feel of the arms that held me all night.

“That’s enough ofthat.”

The furs slide from me in a wash of cold, and I squint at the brightness of the open tent flap until my eyes adjust enough to make out Mist.

She’s as unflappable as any cat, and my poor imitation of one of Krivoth’s glares does zero to faze her.

“You could let me sleep,” I say. “I had quite a day yesterday.”

“I heard.” Amusement colors her tone. “Humans must be extra susceptible to Faerie Fruit.”

The full evening rushes back. The taste of the magic blackberry bursting on my tongue. The immediate intoxication. I’m a serious lightweight when it comes to drinking, so maybe the berry was the same thing? Like the sprites had no idea it would affect me that much?

But no. I remember them pressing more and more berries to my lips. Whatever happened, it was the effect they intended.

And what happened was…

“Oh, no.” I bolt upright, flushed with mortification, and slap my hands over my broiling face. I got whammied by the sprites, and then…

God, I effingbeggedKrivoth to take me. And he didn’t take advantage, not like he could have. He was a downright gentleman.

One who gave me three earth-shattering orgasms while taking nothing for himself.

And then that last time…

The memory plays in my mind like a movie. Where the earlier part of the evening seems a little hazy and out of focus, our time in the tent is crystal clear. Him fisting his massive cock, his deliciously filthy dirty talk, the heated promise in his eyes as he growled what he’d love to do to me…

My core clenches.

“What is it?” Mist asks.

“Oh, god.” I press my hands to my face so hard spots start to float in front of my eyes. The feel of the Faerie Fruit pulsing through my blood is now nothing but an echo, but I’d been so wanton.

But in the tent… Had that been the fruit?

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