Page 54 of Her Orc Healer

Before I could respond, he bent his head, his mouth replacing his hands. The warm, wet heat of his tongue against my sensitive skin sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. His tusks pressed against the soft curve of my breast, a delicious contrast to the gentleness of his mouth.

I arched into him, my fingers finding their way to his hair, pulling it loose from its tie. The dark strands were surprisingly soft against my skin.

He took his time, lavishing attention on my breasts until I was panting, my hips squirming restlessly against the hard surface of the bench. Only then did his hands move to push my skirts up around my waist, fingers hooking into the waistband of my undergarments.

"Lift," he commanded softly, and I obeyed without thinking, raising my hips so he could slide the fabric down and away.

The night air brushed my skin, but I barely felt it before his large hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wide. He knelt again, his broad shoulders keeping my legs parted as he settled between them.

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as he looked at me, exposed and wanting. But there was nothing but reverence in his gaze.

"I've imagined this," he admitted, his thumbs tracing maddening circles on my inner thighs. "How you might taste. How you might sound when you come apart for me."

The words alone were nearly enough to push me over the edge. "Kazrek, please—"

His smile was knowing, almost predatory. "Please what?"

My breath caught as his thumb brushed teasingly against my center, just enough to make me shiver. "Please... touch me."

"I am touching you." His voice was a deep rumble that I could feel in my bones. "Tell me what you need."

Words had never been my ally, and they failed me now. But Kazrek didn't rush me, didn't grow impatient. He simply waited, his eyes steady on mine.

"Make me feel," I finally managed, the admission costing me more than I cared to admit. "Make me stop thinking."

Understanding flashed in his eyes, followed by determination. "I can do that."

And then his mouth was on me, hot and insistent, and thought became impossible.

I gasped, one hand flying to the edge of the bench to steady myself, the other tangling in his hair. The sensation was overwhelming—wet heat and gentle pressure and the occasional teasing scrape of his tusks against sensitive flesh.

He didn't hesitate or second-guess. He touched me like he knew exactly what I needed, like he could read the language of my body better than I could myself. His tongue circled and pressed and teased until I was trembling, my thighs tensing around his head.

But even as pleasure built, so did that familiar resistance—that part of me that couldn't quite let go, that had to remain vigilant. My body was racing toward release, but my mind was holding me back, trapped in the familiar cage of control.

Kazrek seemed to sense it. He pulled back, his eyes finding mine. His beard was damp, his expression intense.

"Stop fighting it, Rowena," he said, his voice a low growl that vibrated through me. "You don't have to be in control right now. Not with me." His fingers replaced his mouth, thick and insistent, circling my most sensitive spot with perfect pressure. "Feel me. Just feel."

I wanted to. Stars, how I wanted to. But years of holding tight to control didn't dissolve in a moment, even with his skilled touch urging me toward surrender.

Frustration built alongside pleasure, making me dig my nails into his shoulders. "I can't," I admitted, the words catching in my throat. "I'm trying, but I can't—"

"You can," he said, and the certainty in his voice was a tangible thing. "And you will."

He stood then, his fingers never leaving my body, and his other hand cupped my jaw. "Look at me," he commanded, and I did. Those dark eyes held mine, pinning me in place more effectively than his physical strength ever could. "I'm right here. I've got you. Let go, Rowena. Let me catch you."

The raw honesty in his voice broke something loose inside me. The pressure of his fingers increased, became more insistent, and I felt the tightness in my lower belly coil tighter.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a rough caress. "You're so close. I can feel it." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip. "Trust me. Just a little more."

The tension built, higher and higher, my breathing ragged as I teetered on the edge. And then his mouth was on mine again, swallowing my gasps, his kiss deep and claiming.

"Come for me," he whispered against my lips.

And I did.

Release crashed over me in waves, pleasure so intense it was almost painful. I cried out into his mouth, my body arching against his hand, trembling with the force of it. Time seemed to stretch and distort, reality narrowing to nothing but the feel of his fingers coaxing every last tremor from my oversensitized body.

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