Page 46 of Pumpkin Spiced Orc
IVY
The bedroom smells like us—like warm skin and tangled sheets and Garruk’s sandalwood soap clinging to my collarbone where he pressed his mouth an hour ago. Hot island air presses against the windows, thick as honey. Moonlight bleeds through the bamboo shutters, painting stripes across his shoulders as he hovers over me.
His palm slides slow down my arm, our fingers threading together beside my head. "Still awake?"
"Trying to memorize the ceiling," I breathe out. "The pattern shifts every time you move."
"Bad habit." He shifts his hips. Deep inside me, slowly drawing out until the head of his cock catches at my entrance, then pushing back into the slick heat. Liquid friction steals the laugh right out of my throat.
"Good distraction, though."
We move like currents finding the same tide—no hurry, no need to chase. His lips trace my jaw as I arch against him. Every thrust sparks something molten behind my ribs.
"Feel that?" Eyes dark, he grinds deeper. Muscle and sweat and the sweet drag where he's buried thick inside me. "How you pull me back?"
"Yes." My thigh hooks around his hip. Closer. Always closer. "Don't stop."
He pauses, swollen and still inside me, to lick the salt from my breastbone. "Not a chance."
His mouth trails lower, teeth grazing my nipple as he rolls his hips again. I gasp. Push up to meet the sinking fullness of him. We don't race anything but the pulse thudding between us, deeper now than the ocean outside.
"You're trembling," he murmurs into the curve of my stomach.
"Still? Or again?"
"Always." His hand slides under my ass, tilting me for the next slow press. Stretching me open so deliberate it wrings a whimper from me. "Always yours."
I dig my heels into the sheets, craving more. Every time he flexes where we're fused feels like sinking closer to a center I'll never find the edges of. His rhythm slows just as I want to shout at him to race it.
"Garruk—"
His name chokes off into a gasp as he sinks deep again. "You're clenching around me," gravel-rough against my throat where he nuzzles. "Like you're afraid I'll slip away."
Try impossibly harder, more—I hitch my legs higher around his waist. My heel digs into the sweat-slick muscle flanking his spine. "Can't help it. You feel too good buried in me."
A rumble builds in his chest, vibrating where our damp skin presses. His hands shift under me—one palm spanning the small of my back, the other cupping beneath my ass—tilting my hips into each rolling thrust. Slow and thorough, stretching me wider, thicker than before. The head of his cock grinds against that perfect spot inside with every languid retreat.
"Sound," he whispers, lips skimming my collarbone. "Tell me."
I'm nearly sobbing when he pushes back in, the friction glorious. "Deeper. Please."
He obeys. Hushing my broken moan with open-mouthed kisses as he holds himself deep, grinding in slow circles that haze my vision. The stretch steals my breath, thick cock pulsing against my inner walls. I claw at his shoulders. "Feel you. Everywhere."
"Same." His breath hitches—rare vulnerability. "Your pussy's milking me. Wet heat..." He drives sharp and sudden, ripping a startled cry from me. "Like you want all of me."
I arch wild. "Yes. Give me everything?—"
He captures my mouth as his pace shifts—not hurried, but earth-shattering. Full, deep strokes dragging along slick inner walls. Building tension coils tighter with each pass. His thumb sweeps my clit in time with a thrust. Sparks fracture my awareness. I bite down on a scream.
"Yeah... loosen your jaw," he soothes against my lips. His fingers slip between us again, circling deliberate and slow against my clit as his hips sink deep once, twice. "Let it happen. I've got you..."
The coil slips along my spine, unraveling. I cry out as it floods my trembling thighs. He growls—a possessive drumbeat against my ribs—as we ride it. Relief still humming through my veins when he kisses the sweat between my breasts, panting. His cock pulses, thick inside me. "Touch," he groans, guiding my hands to the flex of his hips. "Feel what you do."
His rhythm stutters but never stops. His forehead rests against my shoulder as the tempest crests. Melded. Pouring out. Heat spills through me as thick warmth floods my core. The moonlight hangs suspended. The room breathes damp skin and us.
He exhales shaky laughter against my sternum. "Still quiet now?"
I stroke the soaked hair at his nape. Throat raw. Blunt nails combing through the damp roots. "Not a chance."
