Page 8 of Claimed By the Mountain Man Orc
He goes very still. "Mazie—"
"Show me what it means to be your mate."
For a long moment, he just stares at me. Then he sets the carving aside with deliberate care and rises in one smooth motion. The world feels smaller suddenly—just the glow of firelight, the scent of pine resin, and the sound of snow fallingoutside. When he steps close, the heat rolling off him chases the last of the cold from my skin.
"Are you sure?" he murmurs, and there's something almost desperate in his voice. "Once we start, I won't be able to stop. The bond—"
"I'm sure."
He cups my face like it's something precious, rough palms gentle against my cheeks. His thumbs trace my cheekbones, and I can feel the calluses earned from years of carving and surviving in the wilderness. His eyes search mine, looking for any hint of doubt or fear.
"You're not afraid," he says, wonder threading through his voice.
"No." I rise on my toes, bringing us closer. "I'm not."
The first brush of his lips is tentative, reverent—barely a whisper of contact. Then something breaks loose inside him, and he kisses me like he's been starving for it, like I'm air and water and everything he needs to survive.
His tusks frame my face perfectly, just as I somehow knew they would, creating a space that feels designed for this exact purpose. One of his hands slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head, while the other spans my waist, nearly wrapping all the way around me. The size difference should be intimidating, but instead it makes me feel cherished, protected.
I grip his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt, the warmth of him seeping through the fabric. When I gasp against his mouth, he makes a sound low in his chest, something between a growl and a groan that I feel in my bones.
"Mazie," he breathes against my lips, my name a prayer and a question all at once.
"Yes," I answer, though I'm not sure what he's asking. Yes to everything, yes to this, yes to him.
He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bed. The furs are soft beneath my back when he lays me down, his body covering mine, and the weight of him feels right in a way I can't explain.
His lips trail from my mouth to my jaw, down my throat, finding places that make me arch against him. His hands are everywhere—fingers sliding beneath my bra, pushing it down, discovering skin. Each touch is careful, reverent, like he's mapping territory he's been dreaming about but never thought he'd reach.
My nipples harden at his touch and he lowers his mouth to taste them. I moan with pleasure, and he freezes.
"Tell me if I hurt you," he murmurs against my collarbone, his breath hot. "Tell me if it's too much."
"It's not," I gasp, my fingers finding the hem of his shirt and tugging. "It's not enough."
He pulls back just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, and I get my first full view of him. His chest is broad and defined, the green of his skin darker in some places, lighter in others. Tribal tattoos sweep across his shoulders and down his arms—geometric patterns that seem to move in the firelight. Scars mark his body, pale lines that speak of a hard life survived.
I reach up and trace one that runs across his ribs. "What happened?"
"Mountain lion," he says shortly. "Five winters ago."
"Did you win?"
His smile is fierce. "I'm here."
I pull him back down to me, needing to feel his skin against mine. He makes quick work of the rest of our barriers—clothes discarded, furs rearranged—until there's nothing between us but heat and want and the bond thrumming in the air like a living thing. He places my hand on his erection, and my eyes widen in surprise.
“I want to see you,” I whisper.
He stands, showing me his immense size. My inner walls spasm at the sight of him, desperate to feel him inside me… but also a little scared.Will it hurt?
“You can take it,” he assures me. “You were made for me.”
I lick my lips, nodding. “Yes.”
“It’s my turn to see you.” Varn hooks his fingers beneath the hem of my panties, sliding them down my body.
He gently pushes my knees apart, and I spread open for him, letting him take in the sight of me. He gently parts my folds with a finger, and the sensation nearly does me in. I gasp, arching into his hand.
