Page 26 of Bidding on Her Orc Boss

“So…” she begins, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. “Does this mean…we’re dating now? Do I need to sign a form?”

I chuckle, wrapping an arm around her. “Sign this,” I say, tickling her until she’s breathless and spent.

I can barely focuson the road as Zana straddles me, her magnificent body undulating against mine. The steering wheel digs into her back as she moves, but she doesn’t seem to care. Her eyes are closed, lips parted in ecstasy.

“Zana,” I growl, gripping her hips. “You’re going to make me crash.”

She laughs breathlessly. “Then pull over, big guy.”

I consider it for a moment, but the primal part of me refuses to stop. I want—no, need—to be connected to her like this.

“You know,” I say, trying to distract myself from the exquisite sensation of her muscles gripping me, “there used to be an old orc custom of wearing one’s mate.”

Zana opens her eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Wearing? Like... clothes?”

I chuckle. “More like an accessory. Like a belt so I can do this.” I thrust up slightly, making her gasp.

“Oh,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So you want to wear me all the time, huh?”

“Can you blame me?” I ask, running a hand along her curves. “You’re magnificent.”

She leans in, nipping at my ear. “Flatterer. But what about, you know, practical concerns? Like walking?”

I laugh, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. “Details, details. I’m sure we could figure something out.”

Weaving through traffic, I can’t help but marvel at how perfectly we fit together—not just physically, but in every way. Her wit, her compassion, her strength—everything about her calls to me.

And as she throws her head back, crying out in pleasure, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her by my side. Even if it means reviving ancient, impractical orc customs.

Chapter Thirteen

Zana

I standin front of the full-length mirror, eyeing my reflection with a mix of satisfaction and mischief. The dress I’ve chosen hugs every curve like it was painted on, leaving little to the imagination. My ample bosom threatens to spill over the plunging neckline, and the hemline barely qualifies as a skirt. Paired with five-inch heels that make my legs look a mile long, I’m the walking definition of “dress code violation.”

I’m going to make them regret asking the remote workers to return to the office.

As I strut into the bustling office, I can practically hear necks cracking as heads swivel to stare. A small part of me wants to shrink away from the attention, but I squash that instinct. I’m on a mission, after all.

It takes approximately 2.7 seconds for Xnaurl to spot me. His emerald eyes widen, then narrow dangerously. “Ms. Estrada. My office. Now.”

I sashay past him, making sure to add an extra sway to my hips. “Why, good morning to you too, Mr. Sonagh. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

Once inside, he closes the door with a bit more force than necessary. “What do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

I perch on the edge of his desk, crossing my legs slowly. “I’m reporting to work, of course. Is there a problem?”

Xnaurl pinches the bridge of his nose. “Zana, we’ve talked about proper decorum in the office. This…is not it.” He gestures vaguely at my outfit.

“Oh? This?” I look down as if seeing my barely contained breasts are a normal occurrence to me. “But, I thought you said that we would have a relaxed dress code to ease the transition of remote workers to office life?”

“You and I both know that there is a time and place for this dress, and this office is neither of those.”

“And when exactly is that time and place? Because last I checked, I’m a remote worker. Yet here I am, in an office, following some arbitrary rules about fabric coverage.”

He leans against the wall, arms crossed. “I warned you about pushing my buttons at work.”

“Funny, I don’t see any buttons,” I quip, eyeing his muscular chest. “Though I wouldn’t mind pushing a few...”

---