Page 70 of Her Orc Blacksmith

Vorgath nodded, turning to face me, his gaze flickering to mine before dropping to the table. He hesitated, wiping his hands on a rag. “Good.”

I took a hesitant step forward. “Vorgath...” My voice faltered. There was so much I wanted to say. But I didn’t know where to start.

So, I did what any reasonable woman would do.

I stepped closer, closed the gap between us, and kissed him.

Chapter 27

Vorgath froze for just a moment—just long enough for me to second-guess myself.

But then, his hands were on me, pulling me against his solid chest as he kissed me back. The rag he’d been holding dropped to the floor, forgotten, as his hands slid around my waist, gathering me against him.

The weariness of the day fell away, replaced by a swirling tide of heat and need. I threaded my fingers into his thick, tousled hair, tugging him closer. He growled low in his throat, a deep, reverberating sound that made anticipation coil tight in my stomach.

His hand spanned my lower back, warm and possessive, and I arched into his touch, gasping softly as his lips traced down the curve of my jaw, finding the sensitive skin at my neck.

“Are you sure?” He pulled back, just enough for me to see the concern shadowing his brow.

I blinked up at him, chest heaving. “I’ve never been more sure,” I whispered.

His arms tightened around me, and I felt myself lifted off the floor as his mouth found mine again. He shuffled me backward down the hall toward my bedroom, lips never breaking from mine, not until I'd shut the door behind us and pressed a hand against his broad chest. He barely budged under my touch, solid as a rooted oak. Slowly, carefully, I pushed harder until he stumbled backward, his powerful legs hitting the edge of my bed.

He sat, heavy and quiet, his hands gripping the side of the bedframe as I took a step back and reached for the laces at the front of my dress, fumbling with the knots. My heart was a wild thing in my chest, but I couldn’t stop now. I didn't want to. With each pull of the string, I felt the weight of fear, loss, and all my doubts slowly giving way, unraveling like the thread.

Vorgath’s stare never left me, his body still, waiting. As the strings came free of their knots and the fabric of my dress began to part, his hands tightened on the bedframe, the wood creaking beneath his strength.

I let the dress fall to the floor, a soft rustle of fabric against the wooden floorboards, and stood before him. Vulnerable. Exposed. And not just in the obvious, naked kind of way. I felt like I had laid bare every wound—visible or not. Like I had stripped away the years of survival, of getting by, of keeping my head down because the alternative was being seen, and being seen was too dangerous.

And yet… here I was, standing in front of Vorgath, nothing but bare skin and raw nerves. I had never thought of myself as desirable, not in any grand, sweeping way.Chubby, I’d always thought.Plain. I wasn’t the kind of woman novels were written about, not the heroine who made men lose their minds with a single glance. Not someone who commanded attention.

But the way Vorgath looked at me now...

His eyes, so intense and dark, roved over every inch of me with such hunger. But not the hunger you’d expect from a man about to take his pleasure. No. This was something deeper. His gaze wasn’t greedy; it was reverent, like each curve, each freckle, each imperfect part of me was a masterpiece he had been waiting to touch. Waiting toknow.

And it was enough to undo every doubt that had ever wormed its way into my heart.

I took a step closer and lifted one of his huge hands, pressing a kiss to the silver scar on the palm before pressing it against one of my bare breasts. His thumb brushed over my nipple once, then again, the peak stiffening under his ministrations.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice—thick with desire, low with need.

His eyes still on mine, he leaned forward and took my nipple between his teeth, biting down until I gasped and arched into his touch, my body responding to the exquisite mix of pleasure and pain. His tongue soothed the sting, circling the sensitive peak before moving to lavish the same attention on the other breast.

I slid my fingers to the hem of his tunic and pulled it upward, slowly, teasing the fabric over his muscled chest until finally, I tossed it aside, tracing my fingers over the curve of his shoulders, down his chest, over each scar, each ridge of muscle.

Vorgath let out a sharp breath as I pushed him back onto the bed and fumbled with the laces of his trousers before finally tugging them down, freeing his enormous length. I stared for a moment, heat rushing through my veins as I took him in—large, thick, and pulsing with need—and a part of me marveled at the absurdity of thinking I could possibly be enough for him.

But when I touched him, the way his breath hitched as my fingers grazed the sensitive skin of his shaft, the soft groan rumbling deep in his chest, I knew I’d already undone him.

“Ah, Soraya,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, barely restrained as he closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to ground himself.

There was power in that. In knowing this orc warrior who had seen untold battles and horrors, who had faced demons both literal and figurative, was here and barely holding onto control because ofme. The thought sent a jolt of heady thrill through me, emboldening me, wrapping me in confidence where once there had only been hesitation.

I gripped him more firmly now, my fingers not even wrapping fully around his girth as I stroked him slowly, teasingly. Vorgath let out a low growl, his head falling back against the bed as I worked him with deliberate care. His fingers gripped the sheets so tightly I thought they might tear.

“Stars, Soraya,” he groaned, his voice raw and ragged. “If you don’t stop—”

But I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to hold back any longer. I wanted to give him everything. Without a second thought, I crawled onto the bed, straddling him, my body aligning above his.

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