Page 35 of My Orc in Uniform

I couldn’t takemy clothes off fast enough. It was an exciting sort of adventure, something a much younger Rissa would have done; getting myself all tangled up with a guy’s arms as he tried to help me pull his sweatshirt off over my head.

But Simbel wasn’t just any guy.

“By all the gods of the ancestors, Rissa,” he breathed reverently, his green glowing eyes wide as he gazed at me, kneeling there on the blanket on the beach in just my underwear. “I am the luckiest male alive.”

It had to be bullshit…but it was good bullshit.

I began to blush, my hands going to my breasts to cover them, but he twined his fingers through mine and held them away from my torso, so he could look his fill. That blush ratcheted up to a nine out of ten then.

I’d given birth. I’d breastfed. My body was no longer the perky firmness of a twenty-something’s. Someone like Kelly.

He didn’t want Kelly, remember? He wants you.

That was actually a helpful reminder.

“Fuckingmagnificent,” he whispered, tugging me toward him.

On my knees, I was level with him seated, and our lips met softly. I felt his lips curl beneath mine as his fingers moved to my wrists, then up my arms. I had goosebumps, but not from the cold.

“I want you, Rissa,” he murmured against my lips.

“I want you too.”

He let out a sigh that might have been relief, then—to my surprise—rolled away from me. Kicking off his shoes on the way to the campfire, he tossed more wood onto the blaze, until the flames roared close to five feet high, and the heat was unmistakable.

When he turned to me, his hands were on the button of his fly. “You’re sure about this,dkaar?”

He’d called mebeloved. He’d called meMate, whatever that meant. Smiling, certain, I clamored to my feet and moved to him.

Without words, I helped him strip off his shirt, slowly exploring his chest and arms in the night air. He was so big compared to me, but he’d never made me feel small. On the contrary, Simbel made me feel protected,cherished.

My fingertips ran down his hard stomach, and I hesitated at the waist of his jeans. He noticed.

“We don’t have to,” he whispered.

But I wanted to. God, I wanted this, wantedhim. My core was throbbing, and I knew the cotton of my panties was soaked through already, just from touching him. Fromhimtouchingme.

I yanked down his jeans and boxers together.

Simbel helped me by kicking them off, but then he froze, just standing there.

Letting me look.

I had the stray thought that this is what he must’ve looked like in his own world; primitive, highlighted by the leaping flames behind him. Shorn of his sexy uniform, without any sort of trappings of modernity.

He was powerful. He was alluring.

He was watching me carefully. Uncertainly.

I reached out to drag my palms along his skin. Up his sides from his hips, then across his chest. “Dkaar,” he growled, almost in warning, and I have to admit the sound went right to my pussy. I wanted him to teach me more orcish words, I wanted him to growl them at me in the dark beside a fire in the middle of nowhere.

I wanted this.

Emboldened now, I slid my hands down his hips again, then up his thighs. When I reached his cock, his hips jerked forward, and I latched onto it with a breathless little laugh of satisfaction.

It was ridged, just like his tongue. Ridged andthick, taking both my hands to fit around it. I smiled in anticipation, my palms sliding to the tip and feeling the liquid dripping from the tip.

I caught some on my thumb and, remembering what he’d done that night under the bleachers, lifted it to my mouth.

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