Page 59 of Her Rugged Orcs

My hands tighten on her thighs, supporting her weight easily as I stand in the middle of our living space. The heat from the hearth warms my back, but it's nothing compared to the fire burning through my veins at her touch.

"Careful of her," Murok drawls from his corner. "Some of us would like a turn later."

I bare my teeth at him over Eira's shoulder, but she just laughs - that bright, genuine sound that makes my chest ache with emotion.

"Don't worry," she says, trailing kisses along my jaw. "I have plenty of love for all my warriors."

41

MUROK

Grash’s hands tighten on Eira’s thighs. His massive frame effortlessly supports her weight as he stands in our living area, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms clinging around his neck. The firelight from the hearth at his back flickers, casting shadows that dance across her pale skin. He’s possessive, always has been, and the way he handles her—like she’s something precious and yet entirely his—makes something primal stir in me. She doesn’t fight it, doesn’t even tense.

He grabs one of the furs from the chair nearby, tossing it onto the floor in front of the hearth. The fur is soft and thick, meant to keep us warm during the bitter nights. But tonight, it’s for something else entirely. He lays her down gently, the contrast of her delicate frame against his brutish strength always striking. Her blue cotton dress clings to her body, and Grash wastes no time peeling it off, his movements slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of her he uncovers. She’s naked now, her body a map of scars and softness, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

Grash leans down, claiming her lips in a kiss that’s all hunger and possession. I can hear the faintest moan slip from her, andI’m moving before I even think about it. I drop to my knees beside her, my hands sliding up her legs, feeling the warmth of her skin under my palms. She shivers, her breath hitching as I lean in, pressing my lips to the inside of her thigh. She’s already slick, her scent intoxicating, and I smirk against her skin.

"So eager," I murmur, teasing. She arches into my touch, her hands gripping the fur beneath her. I don’t waste time. I spread her folds with my fingers, the sight of her glistening enough to make my cock harden in my pants. I lean in, my tongue finding her clit, and she gasps, her hips lifting off the fur. "Murok," she breathes, and the way she says my name—like a plea, like a prayer—makes me want to devour her.

I work her with my tongue, slow at first, then faster, coaxing her pleasure until she’s writhing beneath me. Grash’s mouth is on her nipples, sucking and biting, and the dual sensations have her moaning, her legs trembling. I slide a finger inside her, feeling her clench around me, and she whimpers, her hands tangling in my hair.

"That’s it," I growl, adding a second finger, stretching her. "You’re so wet for us, Eira. Can’t get enough, can you?"

She doesn’t answer, just moans, her back arching as she gets closer. I glance over at Dren, who’s sitting in the chair, his hand now stroking his cock, his eyes locked on her. He’s quiet, as always, but the way he watches her—like she’s the only thing in the world—says everything he doesn’t.

Grash pulls back from her nipples, his eyes dark with need. He stands, yanking his pants down, his cock already hard and heavy in his hand. He kneels in front of her, guiding himself to her lips. She doesn’t hesitate, taking him into her mouth with a moan that vibrates through him. Her lips soon stretch around him and she sucks him like she’s starving for it.

"Eira," Grash growls, his hand tangling in her hair, his hips moving as he fucks her mouth. I keep working her with myfingers and tongue, feeling her body tense, her moans muffled around Grash’s cock. She’s close, so close, and I can feel the way she clenches around my fingers, the way her hips buck against my mouth.

"Come for us, Eira," I demand, my voice rough against her, my tongue flicking her clit. She does, her body shuddering as she cries out, the vibrations sending Grash over the edge. He grunts, his hips jerking as he spills into her mouth, and she swallows every drop. Her lips are still wrapped around him as she comes down from her own release.

I pull back, licking my lips, watching as she looks up at Grash with a smile that’s equal parts satisfaction and affection. He pulls out of her mouth, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips.

She's breathless, her hand reaching for me, and I take it, pressing a kiss to her palm. Dren’s still in the chair, stroking himself, his eyes never leaving her. I smirk, knowing he’ll have his turn soon enough.

Eira sits up, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her release. Her green eyes lock onto Dren, who’s still seated in the chair, his hand lazily stroking his cock. The firelight catches the silver in his eyes, and there’s something almost predatory in the way he watches her. She doesn’t hesitate, crawling toward him on all fours, her movements slow, deliberate, like she’s savoring the anticipation. I can’t help but smirk.

"Careful with him," I say, teasing. "He’s still healing."

She glances over her shoulder at me, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I’ll be gentle," she purrs, and the way she says it makes my cock twitch.

She kneels in front of Dren, her hands sliding up his thighs, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock. He lets out a low growl, his hand tangling in her hair, but he doesn’t push her. He never does. She takes him into her mouth, her lips stretchingaround his girth, and I notice her throat working as she takes him deeper. Dren’s head falls back, a soft groan escaping him, and I feel a surge of satisfaction. She’s ours, and she knows exactly how to drive us wild.

I move behind her, my hands sliding up her hips, feeling the warmth of her skin under my palms. She’s still wet from earlier, and I can’t resist the urge to tease her, my fingers brushing against her folds. She moans around Dren’s cock, her hips pushing back against me, and I smirk. "Still eager, aren’t you?" I murmur, my voice rough with need.

She pulls back from Dren, her lips swollen, her eyes dark with desire. "Stop teasing," she breathes, and the way she says it—like a demand, like a plea—makes my cock ache.

I don’t need to be told twice. I grab her hips, positioning myself at her entrance, and push into her in one smooth stroke. She’s tight, so fucking tight, and I can’t help the groan that escapes me. She gasps, her hands gripping Dren’s thighs, and I start moving, my thrusts slow at first, then faster, harder. She’s moaning, her body trembling with every stroke, and I can feel her clenching around me, her pleasure building.

"That’s it," I growl, my hands tightening on her hips. "Take it, Eira. Take everything we give you."

She does, her body arching, her moans growing louder, more desperate. Dren’s hand is still in her hair, guiding her back to his cock, and she takes him into her mouth again, her lips working him with a skill that’s almost maddening. I can feel her getting closer, her body tightening around me, and I increase my pace, my thrusts becoming almost punishing. She cries out, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm, and I can’t hold back anymore. I spill into her, my release hot and deep, and she moans around Dren’s cock, her body still trembling.

Dren’s not far behind. He growls, his hips jerking as he spills into her mouth, and she swallows every drop. I pull out of her,my hands still on her hips, and she collapses onto the fur, her body spent, her breathing ragged.

I kneel beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and she looks up at me, her eyes soft, almost vulnerable. "You’re ours," I say, possessive. "Always."

She smiles, a small, tired smile, and nods. "Always," she whispers.

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