Page 14 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

I flung myself at Tark, determined to drag him to the ground and out of exposed view of the broad expanse of windows covering the front of the saloon.

With a yelp, he grappled with my arms.

His foot caught on something nearby, maybe a chair, and he toppled backward.

I rode his waist to the floor like I was mounted on a bucking bronco.

Chapter 5

Tark

My mate was curvy, pretty, and I would crawl many cleks if that would impress her.

And she was surprisingly strong for such a tiny thing, toppling me to the wooden floorboards where I landed hard but still managed to somehow keep from crushing her or hopefully causing her more pain.

Panting and with her brown eyes wide, she stared down at me from where she sat across my waist.

Even if the mating mark hadn’t appeared on my wrist when I touched her, she made my heart flop around, which meant she wasthe one.

As she braced her palms on my chest, her long, dark brown hair hung in her face. It was all I could do not to reach up and stroke my big fingers through it. I'd be sure to snarl it up if I did something like that, which I didn't want to do, so I clenched my hands to fists at my sides instead.

Tiny brown constellations dusted her nose and her pink cheeks, and her brown eyes… I’d never seen any that color. We orcs universally had dark, almost black eyes, never the color of the wet soil squishing beneath my boots. Squishy, mud-colored eyes were amazing.

“Gunshots,” she barked, more breathless than she should be from such simple activity.

Such an embarrassment that her slight weight could knock me to the floor. But it wasn’t surprising. Again, my foot had snagged on something; otherwise, I would’ve held my footing when she lunged.

Why had she lunged herself at me?

My cock didn’t seem to mind her sitting on top of me, however. It stiffened, thrusting itself against the thick fabric of my pants—and against the juncture between her thighs.

Dungar had made it quite clear we were not supposed to present our cocks in any way, shape, or form to the human females until they’d made it clear they wanted to see them. A “little lady” was to be treated with utmost respect at all times.

I was ruining this already. While I wasn’t exposing my cock to her, it had decided to take control and thrust itself up between us. At least my pants would keep it out of view.

Would she notice? Maybe she wouldn’t, and I could adjust my clothing and pretend it never happened.

She gaped down at me. “Gunfire. Stay down.”

“It’s fake,” I said, finally realizing what she was saying.

She released one blink. “What?”

“Fake gunfire.”

“Oh, jeez, you're right. Stagecoach robberies.” She smacked her forehead. “I forgot already.” When she shifted her body, her wide eyes shot back to mine. “You’re getting a woody.”

“Woody…?”

She bobbed her head in a nod.

“Ah, yes, the term makes sense. As solid as wood. Such an interesting word for a cock. Humans have the oddest way of stating things. Hard-off.”

She gaped down at me.

“No,” I said. “Hard-on.”

“Yes, on.” Her lips twitched and a frown creased her forehead.

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