Page 12 of Saved By the Mountain Man Orc
"Yes," she says before I can ask. "Please."
I strip away the rest of her clothes with reverent care, revealing long legs and the soft curls between her thighs. The scent of her arousal hits me like a punch in the stomach, and I have to close my eyes and breathe deeply to keep from losing control entirely.
When I look at her again, she's watching me with half-lidded eyes, lower lip caught between her teeth.
"Touch me," she whispers.
I slide my hand up her thigh, fingers ghosting over sensitive skin until I reach the heat of her. She's already wet, already ready, and when I stroke her gently she moans and tilts her hips toward my touch.
"You want this," I growl, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves at her apex. "You want me."
"Yes," she gasps, hips bucking against my hand. "God, yes. I want you."
I work her slowly, carefully, building her pleasure with patient strokes until she's trembling beneath me. Her breathing comes in short pants, and little sounds of need escape her lips.
"Please," she whispers, and I can hear the desperation in her voice. "I need you."
I rise from the bed long enough to shed what's left of my clothes, and her eyes widen as she takes in my full size. My cock is hard and heavy, already dripping at the tip.
"I'll go slow," I promise, settling between her legs. "I'll take care of you."
She nods, reaching up to cup my face in her hands. "I trust you."
Those three words hit me harder than any blow.
I position myself at her entrance, feeling the slick heat of her against my skin. When I press forward—just the head, just enough to make her gasp—her body opens for me like it was made for this. Made forme.
"Breathe," I murmur, holding perfectly still. "I've got you."
I ease deeper, inch by careful inch, watching her face for any sign of pain. Her eyes flutter closed, lips parting on a soft moan as her body stretches to accommodate me.
"So big," she breathes. "So deep."
"You were made for me," I growl, sliding deeper still. "Your body knows mine."
When I'm finally seated fully inside her, we both go still. She's tight and hot and perfect around me, and every instinct I have is screaming to move, to claim, to make her understand what she means to me.
But I wait. Let her adjust. Let us both savor this moment of perfect connection.
Then she shifts her hips, and I see stars.
I start to move—slow, careful strokes that make her arch beneath me. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my ass as she meets each thrust.
"Harder," she gasps. "I won't break."
I don't need to be told twice.
I lift one of her legs over my shoulder, changing the angle, and she cries out as I hit the spot deep inside her that makes her whole body tremble.
"Right there," she moans. "Oh god, right there."
I drive into her again and again, feeling her tighten around me with each thrust. Her cries fill the cabin. Sweet, desperate sounds that echo off the log walls.
"I'm close," she pants, nails digging into my shoulders.
I reach between us, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves again and rubbing in tight circles. Her whole body goes rigid beneath me.
"Let go," I command. "Come for me."
