Page 27 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
My body responds instantly, nipples hardening to pebbles against his chest, and that warmth between my legs drenches my panties. Histouch is electric, igniting a primal hunger within me that demands satisfaction.
I can feel every inch of him, his erection hard and demanding against my belly, and I know I should be afraid of it, but his size only makes me more aroused. My heart races, my breath hitches, and I'm lost in the sensation, lost in fantasies of him claiming me, fucking me right here, right now.
I imagine his large green cock thrusting deep inside me, filling me completely, and a moan escapes my lips. My hands roam over his chest, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. I can't get enough. I want more. I want to feel his bare skin against mine, his cock buried deep inside me. I want him to make me scream his name. I'm losing control, drowning in a sea of desire, and I never want it to end.
His fingers dig into my flesh, holding me in place as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring every corner of my mouth, claiming me with each stroke. My core throbs with need, aching for him. The intensity of my arousal is overwhelming, every nerve ending alight with desire.
Just when I think I’m going to pass out, Gerralt’s mouth leaves mine as he breaks the kiss. He doesn’t waste any time, though, and his mouth closes down my neck, his tongue licking and his teeth brushing the delicate skin, igniting a fiery trail of desire wherever they touch. I gasp, my head tilting back, granting him better access. His tusk grazes my skin just like I’ve dreamed about countless times, and I shiver in delight. I want him to mark me, to claim me, to make me his in every way possible.
His hand slides up my thigh, lifting my skirt, and I can feel his fingers tracing the edge of my panties. Another wave of boldnessovertakes me and I reach down, fumbling with his belt. Just as I untie it, he stops me, his hand covering mine, his grip firm but gentle.
The next moment, he pulls away, breaking the contact. His breath is ragged, his eyes wild as he still hovers above me with his regal height and size. He looks at me for a long moment, his face a landscape of warring emotions. Then, without a word, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, dizzy and breathless, my body aching for more.
I touch my fingers to my lips, my gaze vague, looking in the direction he left long after he disappears. That was, without a doubt, the best kiss of my entire life. As I hear his truck speed down the driveway, I can't help but wonder what the hell just happened.
And when it's going to happen again.
Chapter Twelve
Cassidy
Isitatthekitchen counter, slowly stirring sugar into my coffee, watching the tiny whirlpool spin and fade. It's been two days since Gerralt kissed me, and now he's vanished.
Not literally. I hear him somewhere in the inn, hammering away at something, always making himself too busy to look at me. It's driving me insane. I wasn't expecting grand confessions or whispered declarations after our kiss, but I wasn't expecting silence either. Every time our paths cross, he finds somewhere else to be, something urgent that needshis attention.
The rejection stings more than I want to admit. Maybe I misread everything. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, and I'm the fool thinking it meant more. Still, the memory of his kiss burns on my lips in a way that I know will take time to fade.
I don’t want it to fade. But what else could I do? I was bold. I took the initiative, and I kissed him. I was everything the new Cassidy is supposed to be. Yet I still don’t regret it, even if Gerralt is not interested in me this way.
A soft meow draws my attention to the sliding glass door. Marigold sits there, her orange and white fur glowing in the morning light, looking almost clean.
"Well, look who finally decided to trust me," I murmur, sliding off my chair. I approach the door slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. Marigold watches me with those intelligent golden eyes, but she doesn't run. Instead, she stretches, arching her back before padding closer to the glass.
My hand trembles slightly as I ease the door open. This is usually the moment she chooses to run away from me. I crouch down, holding my breath, and extend my hand. For a moment, she just stares at it, whiskers twitching.
Then, miracle of miracles, she bumps her head against my fingers.
Tears spring to my eyes as I gently scratch behind her ears, then run my hand over her painfully thin back. Her fur is softer than I imagined, even with the tangles and obvious neglect. She leans into my touch, a purr rumbling through her small body.
"You want to come inside?" I whisper, hardly daring to believe it when she follows me through the door. She pads across the kitchen floor like she owns the place, her tail held high. I laugh softly, wipingat my eyes. "Guess Gerralt's grandmother knows what she's talking about."
I pull out a can of the food he brought and empty it into a bowl. Marigold winds between my legs as I set it down, purring louder now. As she eats, I sit cross-legged on the floor beside her, running my fingers through her fur.
"I’ll take good care of you, you’ll see," I say softly, scratching under her chin when she finishes eating. “Everyone needs someone to take care of them from time to time, right?”
She turns around, still purring, and walks away from me to explore the inside of the Saltwater Lodge. I follow her at a distance, my heart pounding and a stubborn grin on my face.
Then I hear a knock at the door, and I reluctantly walk away from the newly no longer a stray cat to open the door.
When I open it, I find myself face-to-face with a dark-haired woman who looks like she’s been pulled straight from the cover of a 1950s fashion magazine. She stands in the early morning light wearing a pair of immaculate white heels, a tailored white wool coat cinched at the waist over a red knee-length dress, designer sunglasses, and hair that looks like it’s been professionally styled. Which it probably was.
What is she doing here?I blink, unsure if I’m seeing things right. But sadly, I am.
I cross my arms over my chest and lift my chin, but my bravado is surface deep. Inside, I want nothing more than to cower and hide under my blankets in my bed until night comes to soothe the anxiety away.
“Cassidy.” The woman’s perfect red lips lift in the coldest of smiles. “I should tell you that you look well, but you know how I hate lying.”
Temper flares immediately inside my chest, wiping the warm glow left by Marigold’s sudden trust in me.
