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She cries out, but she doesn't tell me to stop. Instead, she clings to me, her fingers digging into my skin as she takes my length, her body moving with mine.

I groan as her tight, wet heat wraps around my cock, taking me deep inside her. She's so small, so delicate, but she's taking every inch of my big, orc cock like the perfect little fucktoy.

Her mouth forms anOas she gasps, her shock quickly transforming into pleasure as I fill her up completely. "Koda!" she gasps as I move, staring down at where our bodies join. And she's so fucking beautiful like this, helpless and willing beneath me.

"Mine," I growl, flipping her as if she weighs nothing, pulling her ass into the air, and driving into her from behind. I watch as her cute little body bounces and squeaks with every hard thrust, my hands gripping her hips to hold her in place as I take her, shape her, mark her as mine.

"Yes, sir!" she moans, her body trembling with each powerful stroke. "I'm... I'm yours!"

I can feel Pamela's orgasm building, her pussy tightening around my cock in a way that's driving me wild. I reach up, wrapping my hand around her delicate throat as I continue to fuck her, my control slipping away. She gasps, her eyes wide, but she doesn't struggle. She doesn't fight me. Instead, she takes it, her body shuddering as her orgasm explodes. The feeling of her pussy clenching around my cock sends me over the edge.

With a roar, I let go, my climax tearing through me like a runaway train. I thrust deeper and harder, ensuring every dropfills her little human womb, letting her know exactly who’s property she is, painting her insides and I can feel every pulse of my orgasm, every spurt of my seed and she shatters beneath me, her pussy clenching around me as she lets go.

Finally, we collapse together, a tangle of sweaty, panting flesh. I feel my seed leaking out of her, evidence of our mating, and I know that she truly is mine. The feeling of possession and primal satisfaction is so strong, so fierce, that it's almost overwhelming.

Seven

Pamela

The gentle patter of rain on the cabin roof creates a cozy cocoon around us as I stand at the small stove, stirring a pot of slowly simmering broth. The rich aroma of star anise, cinnamon, and charred ginger fills the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the bayou that seeps through the wooden walls. I glance over my shoulder at Koda, who's sprawled in an armchair that seems comically small for his massive frame. His yellow eyes fix on me, a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something that makes my heart flutter every time I catch him looking.

"You sure you don't want help?" he asks, shifting in his seat.

I smile, shaking my head. "Cooking relaxes me. Besides, I want this to be a surprise."

He grunts in acknowledgment, returning to the football game, but I can see his nostrils flaring. He’s still a gruff, intimidating orc, but I think my cooking may be just the thing.

I’ve seen how he eats.

As I turn back to the stove, my mind wanders to the night he told me about fated mates. The concept still feels surreal, likesomething out of a fairy tale. And yet, I can't deny the pull I feel towards him, the sense of rightness when we're together. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

The broth is nearly ready. I add the rice noodles, their pale strands unfurling in the fragrant liquid. Next come thin slices of beef, barely kissing the hot broth before I ladle everything into two large bowls. The final touch: a handful of fresh herbs with Thai basil, cilantro, mint as their bright green adds a stark contrast to the deep, rich brown of the broth.

"Hope you're hungry," I say, carefully carrying the bowls to the small table by the window. "This is ph?, but with a New Orleans twist."

Koda's nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, a look of appreciation crossing his face. "Smells amazing. What's the twist?"

I grin, settling into my chair across from him. "Well, traditionally it's made with beef or chicken. But I've added some andouille sausage and a dash of filé powder. A little Vietnam, a little Louisiana."

He takes a cautious sip of the broth, and I hold my breath. Then his eyes widen, and he looks at me with something like awe. "This is incredible."

Pride and pleasure well up inside me. "Really? You like it?"

Koda nods emphatically, already spooning up more. "It's like comfort and excitement all in one bowl. How did you learn to cook like this?"

I feel a warmth that has nothing to do with the steaming ph?. "It's a long story," I say, stirring my bowl.

"We've got time," he says.

And so, as the rain continues its gentle rhythm outside, I tell him about my past. About growing up in Indianapolis, the daughter of Vietnamese immigrants who wanted a better lifefor their children. About the struggle to fit in, to balance two cultures that often seemed at odds.

"Food was always my connection to both worlds," I explain, gesturing with my chopsticks. "My mom taught me traditional Vietnamese dishes, but I was fascinated by American cuisine too. I started experimenting, combining flavors, trying to create something that represented both sides of who I was."

Koda listens intently, his bowl empty. "Is that what brought you to New Orleans?"

I nod, serving him another bowl without skipping a beat. "Partly. I came here first with my college's Vietnamese Student Association, to help with the Katrina cleanup. The resilience I saw here, the way the community came together inspired me. And the food culture! It was like nothing I'd ever experienced."

As I talk, I can almost smell the beignets frying at Cafe Du Monde, hear the jazz spilling out of clubs on Frenchmen Street. The ache of homesickness is sudden and sharp.