Page 28 of Vargan

My breath catches at the sight of him—broad chest covered in a tapestry of tattoos, muscles rippling beneath green skin that bears the marks of a hard life. Scars, both old and new, map his torso like constellations. He was right. Orcs do heal faster than humans. The stab wound has almost healed completely. I don’t know why that’s such a turn-on, but it is. I reach out an unsteady hand and trace the scar with my finger.

“You’re all healed,” I whisper.

A low, grumbling sound comes from low in his throat. “Nothing about me is healed, Savvy.”

He moves over me, one knee on the bed, and I reach for him, pulling him down until the delicious weight of him presses me into the mattress. His skin is hot against mine, his handsseeming to be everywhere at once—tracing my waist, cupping my breast through my bra, tangling in my hair.

"I've wanted this since the moment I saw you," he confesses against my neck, his breath hot on my skin. "Standing in that diner, so fierce, so strong."

"Show me," I demand, arching into his touch. "Show me how much you want me."

His mouth trails down my neck, across my collarbone, as his hands make quick work of my bra. When his lips close around my nipple, I gasp, hands clutching at his shoulders. His tusks graze the sensitive skin beneath my breast, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, moving to my other breast. "So perfect."

His hands slide lower, unbuttoning my jeans, easing them down my hips. I lift to help him, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine with nothing between us.

Once I'm naked beneath him, he pauses, amber eyes taking me in with naked appreciation. "I want to taste every inch of you," he growls.

Before I can respond, he's moving down my body, broad shoulders pushing my thighs apart as he settles between them. The first touch of his mouth against my core has me crying out and my fingers clutching at the sheets.

He's devastatingly good at this—his tongue exploring, teasing, building a rhythm that has me writhing beneath him. One large hand splays across my stomach, holding me still as he works, the other sliding up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple in time with his tongue.

"Vargan," I gasp, the pressure building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter. "Please—"

He responds by sliding one thick finger inside me, curling it to find that spot that makes my vision blur. I'm close, so close, my body strung tight as a bow.

When he adds a second finger, stretching me in the most delicious way while his tongue continues its relentless assault, I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me in waves, drawing a cry from my throat that I barely recognize as my own.

He works me through it, gentling his touch as I come down, until I'm a trembling, boneless heap on the bed. When he rises above me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression is smug and satisfied.

"That was just the beginning," he promises, voice rough with desire.

I reach for his belt, suddenly desperate to see all of him, to feel him inside me. "Take these off," I demand. "Now."

He complies, standing to remove his jeans and boxers in one motion I prop myself up on my elbows, watching with undisguised hunger as he reveals himself to me.

He's magnificent—every inch the warrior, powerful and primal. His cock is as unique as the rest of him—the same olive green as his skin but with deeper shading at the head, thick and impressively long without being intimidating. Different from a human's in subtle ways—ridged texture along the underside, more pronounced veins—but still fundamentally familiar. I lick my lips, imagining how he'll feel stretching me, filling me.

"Come here," I whisper, reaching for him.

He returns to the bed, settling between my thighs, his weight supported on his forearms. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, hot and insistent, but he doesn't move.

"Are you sure?" he asks again, eyes searching mine. "I'm not like human men, Savvy. I might hurt you."

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm not afraid. I want this. I want you."

Slowly, with exquisite control, he begins to push inside me. The stretch burns at first—he's big, bigger than I've ever taken—but the pain is edged with pleasure so intense I forget to breathe.

"God," I gasp as he sinks deeper, filling me completely. "Vargan—"

"I've got you," he murmurs, holding still to let me adjust. "Tell me when."

I take a moment to breathe, to feel the incredible fullness of him inside me. When I'm ready, I lift my hips, taking him impossibly deeper. "Now."

He begins to move, setting a rhythm that starts slow and steady but quickly builds in intensity. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure radiating through me, building toward something bigger, something shattering.

His mouth finds mine, swallowing my moans as he drives into me. One hand slides beneath me, lifting my hips to change the angle, and suddenly he's hitting a spot that makes make my whole body hum and my vision blur.

---