Page 13 of Saved By the Mountain Man Orc
She breaks apart with a scream that's half my name, half wordless pleasure. Her body clenches around me like a vice, drawing my own release from me with irresistible force.
I thrust once, twice more, then bury myself to the hilt as I spill inside her, roaring her name to the rafters.
For a long moment, we just hold each other. Her head is tucked against my neck, her breath warm on my skin. I can feel something fundamental shifting between us—bonds forming that go deeper than flesh.
This is what the elders meant when they spoke ofThurok'hai. Not just desire, but recognition. Two souls finding their other half.
But I need to know if she feels it, too.
"I'll take you to the ridge tomorrow," I murmur into her hair.
She lifts her head, blinking up at me with eyes still hazy from pleasure. "But you don't want to."
"No."
She traces a pattern on my chest with one finger. "I don't want you to either."
Relief floods through me so sudden and complete it's almost painful.
"Then stay," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'll build you anything you need. Show you the mountain. Keep you safe."
She smiles, soft and sleepy and completely content. "You already have."
Chapter 7
Jasmine
Iwaketogoldensunlight streaming through the cabin windows and the steady rhythm of Drak's breathing beneath my ear.
My body aches from being stretched around his massive frame. My lips feel swollen from his kisses. There are marks on my throat where his tusks grazed my skin—not painful, just present. Evidence of what we shared.
I've never felt so thoroughly satiated in my life. Or soclaimed.
And I don't want it to end.
I stretch carefully, testing the soreness in my muscles. My ankle barely twinges. Whatever herbal remedy he used is working better than any painkiller I've ever tried.
Drak stirs beneath me, his arm tightening around my waist. In sleep, the harsh planes of his face soften, making him look less like the dangerous predator he can be and more like the gentle protector he's been with me.
"Morning," he rumbles, voice rough with sleep.
"Good morning." I press a kiss to his chest, tasting salt and warmth.
His hand slides up my spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I love waking to this view.”
Heat pools low in my belly at the possessive note in his voice. "What do you see?”
"I see what’s mine," he says simply.
The words should probably scare me. Instead, they make me feel grounded in a way I never have before.
I prop myself up on his chest to look at him properly. In the morning light, his skin has an almost luminescent quality—deep green with undertones of gold. The scars that map his body tell stories I want to learn, battles I want to understand.
"Tell me about your scars," I say, tracing a particularly prominent line across his shoulder.
His muscles tense beneath my touch. "Some things are better left buried."
"Not with me." I meet his golden eyes steadily. "If I'm staying, I want to know who you are. All of you."
