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Vorgath held me through it, swallowing my moans, his hand slowing but not stopping, guiding me gently back to him. I sagged against him, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my body trembling with aftershocks.

For several moments, the world was still, the only sound the hammering of my heart and the distant clamor of the festival.

And then I laughed—soft at first, dazed and breathless, but growing louder as the laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. I pressed my forehead against his chest.

“That... that was...” I couldn’t even form the words, a giddy, post-orgasmic warmth coursing through me.

“Good?” he ventured, that rough voice of his dancing with amusement.

I lifted my head, still grinning in disbelief. “More than good.”

But as the haze of bliss began to clear, a new hunger flared. I needed more of him—the feel of his skin against mine, his weight pressing me into—

I tugged at his tunic, whispering urgently, “Vorgath, I need you. Now.”

But instead of leaning in, he stilled completely. Every muscle in his large frame tensed as if he was holding back an internal war. His hand, the one that had just sent me into orbit, rested firmly on the wall beside my head. His brow furrowed with something caught between desire and restraint.

“No,” he said, his voice thick with an edge of torment.

I blinked, my body still humming, trying to process the word, the sudden withdrawal. “No?” I echoed, confusion lacing my voice.

“You’re not ready,” he said firmly, his voice rough yet unyielding.

Not… ready? I was practically dripping for him. “What do you mean?” I said breathlessly, my lips barely keeping up with the rapid thrum of my heartbeat. “Look at me! Look at what you justdidto me. How can you say—?”

Vorgath shifted, tilting his head forward so that his brow pressed gently against mine, his breath heavy against my cheek.

“You are a human woman,” he said in that deep rumble. “Beautiful and strong, yes, but I am an orc. You need patience—practice—before your body will accept mine.”

His words hit me like a bucket of cold water, but not in the way that snuffed out the heat still throbbing through me. No, this was... startling. Confusing, even.

“Practice?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up. I wasn’t some blushing maiden! I was a widow, a mother. I knew what I wanted, and right now,I wanted him.

But before I had a chance to argue, he slid his hand down from where it had braced against the wall, looping his fingers undermy chin. He tilted my head back so that our eyes met fully, his gaze intense and smoldering.

“Yes, practice,” Vorgath muttered in that low, gravelly voice of his, the word coiling in my stomach.

As if to prove his point, his fingers traveled down my body again. This time, there was no rush. His fingers were slow, deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world. They dipped between my thighs, brushing through the slick heat between them, teasing me once again.

I gasped, legs trembling as his hand pressed firmly against me. He grunted softly, as if my body's response was something that settled his internal conflict.

“You're wet for me,durlan, but still... too tight.”

I blinked up at him in disbelief, my cheeks flushing hotter with every word. “Too tight?”

“Aye,” he growled, leaning down so that his tusks grazed the shell of my ear. “An orc male is not like the men you're used to, Soraya. We are... bigger.” His voice dropped an octave, sending shivers down my spine. “Stronger.”

My breath hitched in my throat, imagining just how vast the difference might be—which wasn’t hard, considering the length I’d felt pressed against me earlier.

“So,” he continued, voice rough with desire but laced with tenderness, “you need proper preparation.” His finger circled me again, making my body hum. “You need to get used to this... first.”

This?My brain fumbled to keep up with whatever it was he was suggesting. And then, without waiting for further discussion, Vorgath slid one thick finger inside of me.

Seven save me.

I dug my nails into his shoulders, my entire body arching into the sensation as he filled me with just that single finger. I had never... never felt anything like it.

Just one finger and I already felt stretched, a delicious pressure building inside me, coaxing little gasps and moans from my lips. He moved so slowly, so deliberately, and I realized with a wave of heat that he was right... I wasn’t ready. Not yet. But sweet Seven, Iwantedto be.