Page 71 of Her Orc Protector

Those words—simple, honest—seemed to affect him deeply. His eyes darkened, and he leaned into my touch like a plant seeking sunlight.

"Tell me if it's too much," he said, positioning himself between my thighs.

I nodded, drawing him down for another kiss as the blunt head of him pressed against me. He entered slowly, giving me time to adjust to the stretch. It was intense—a fullness that bordered on discomfort at first—but not painful. He watched my face carefully, pausing whenever I tensed.

"All right?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

"Yes," I breathed. "More."

He pressed deeper, a groan escaping him as he filled me completely. For a moment, neither of us moved, adjusting to the sensation of being joined so intimately.

Then I shifted my hips, a silent request for him to move. He did, withdrawing slightly before pushing back in, establishing a slow, steady rhythm that had me gasping with each thrust.

"Good?" he asked, his face tense with concentration.

"Yes," I said, my hands finding his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex beneath my palms. "More. Harder."

He complied, his pace increasing, the sound of our breathing and the soft creak of the bed filling the room. The pleasure built again, different this time—deeper, fuller, more encompassing.

"Tell me," he urged, his voice rough. "Tell me what you need."

"You," I gasped. "Just—don't stop."

His hand slid beneath my thigh, lifting it to angle me deeper against him, and the next thrust made my whole body jolt. I cried out, clutching at his shoulders. His rhythm faltered only for a moment—like he’d memorized that sound, committed it to memory—then continued with purpose, driving into me in long, rolling strokes.

The stretch still made me ache, but it was a delicious ache, a reminder that I was alive, that I could feel this much and still want more.

"That's it," he said, his voice ragged. "You take me so well, Issy. You feel—" he broke off with a groan, bracing himself with one arm as his free hand slid between us.

I arched into his touch as he found that same rhythm again, his fingers circling my clit while his cock thrust deep and steady inside me. The pleasure coiled tight in my belly, sharp and sweet and impossibly full. I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to.

"Right there," I whimpered. "Don't stop. Please—Uldrek—"

"I’ve got you," he said, and I believed him.

My second climax hit hard and fast, tearing through me like a tide. I sobbed his name, my whole body locking tight around him, trembling through every pulse of pleasure.

And then—

The mark on my shoulder flared. Not painfully, not bright—but unmistakably warm, as if someone had lit a tiny flame beneath my skin. Uldrek choked on a groan and collapsed into me, his hips stuttering.

“I felt that,” he panted. “Stars, I felt that.”

I nodded, dazed. “It glowed.”

He looked down at me, eyes wide, wonder-struck. “It’s never done that before.”

And then he was kissing me again, open-mouthed and reverent, as he thrust once more, deep and unyielding, and came with a shudder that shook the bedframe.

Neither of us moved for a long moment afterward.

The cottage was silent, save for the slow cadence of our breathing. His body blanketed mine, heavy but welcome, our limbs tangled. My skin still hummed with the echo of what had passed between us—raw, deliberate, honest in a way that left me breathless for reasons beyond physical need.

Uldrek exhaled softly and rolled to his side, one arm still looped loosely around my waist. He kissed my forehead and murmured something low in what I thought was Orcish.

I brushed back a strand of hair clinging to his brow. "What did you say just now?"

He blinked slowly. "Old battle-blessing. Orc patrols say it after surviving a fight."