Page 36 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Holly

H e was so solid beneath my hands. Broad shoulders, wide chest, warm, steady breath. I had him pinned against the door—as much as anyone could pin a big orc like Sel who had to be at least a foot and a half taller than me.

That power he was giving me went straight to my head.

“How do I want to claim you?” he drawled. His eyes darkened to almost black. “I want to savor you. I want to remember every sound you make. And I want to make you laugh between the gasps.”

I shivered at his words, his tone.

He added, almost shyly, “And I want you to want me.”

I pushed up onto my toes and when he lowered his head, I kissed him, slow and deep, my tongue sliding past his lips. I belonged here with this male and in this place and time. He tasted like warm honey and something wilder I couldn’t name.

“I do,” I said against his mouth. “It’s the truth, Sel. I do.”

He groaned and lifted me in one smooth motion, carrying me to the bed. We were both laughing. Me because I bumped my head on the bedpost, him because he couldn’t seem to resist laughing along with me. He sat on the edge of the bed with me straddling his lap, and I framed his face with my hands.

“Look at you,” I whispered. “Strong and sweet and mine.”

He smiled in that rare, tender way that melted everything inside me. “Only yours.”

Rising, I kissed my way down his jaw, down his throat, loving how his breath hitched as I went.

He ran his hands down my back, not pushing or rushing, just learning me.

I peeled my shirt off and tossed it aside.

His eyes followed the movement, and when he gulped, everything inside me twisted in a wonderful way.

I’d never known anyone who gazed at me as reverently as Sel did, who treated me the way this male did.

As if I deserved everything the world could offer and more.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. When I tugged at his shirt, his grin turned wicked. “Impatient, are you?”

“Less talking, more naked,” I said, and laughed when he chuckled.

He helped me pull his shirt off, and the moment it hit the floor, I ran my hands over the hard planes of his chest. Scars, freckles, warmth. This male was amazing.

“This,” I said, “is extremely unfair.”

“What is?”

“That you look like a god, and I’m sitting on your lap, trying not to drool.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing mine. “Drool away. I’ll collect every drop.”

I didn’t get a chance to laugh before he kissed me again, deeper this time. Everything heated fast. Hands roaming. Bodies shifting. I slid off his lap and tugged at the button of his jeans while he watched me with parted lips and heavy eyes.

I paused. “Last chance to change your mind, sweet.”

“If you stop now, I’ll die. A dramatic, shirtless death.”

I snorted, then shoved him back on the bed.

He lay still, all six and a half feet or so of him sprawled like a dream I hadn’t realized I’d been having my whole life.

My gaze swept over him, hungry and with a little awe.

His jeans were undone but still clinging low on his hips, and when I slid them down, he lifted his hips for me with a soft groan.

And there he was.

My mouth parted.

Oh.

Sel was thick, long, heavy, every inch of him a deep, dusky green shot through with darker veins.

But it wasn’t only his size that stole my breath.

Around his shaft, spiraling from the flared base all the way up to beneath the head, were delicate, cord-like ridges.

Actually, not ridges. Strands, I guess. Like jewelry, only they were a part of him.

Born with them. I’d bet anything on that.

They shimmered faintly, each one tipped with a small, bead-like nub.

They pulsed. Literally pulsed, gently vibrating against my skin as I reached out and ran curious fingers along them.

He watched me, his eyes dark. “They’re called coorails. They’re…all of us have them.”

“They’re beautiful,” I whispered.

His breath snagged in his throat. “They’re sensitive. For both of us. When I’m aroused, they vibrate. The more aroused I am, the more intense it gets. They’re meant to bring more pleasure to a mate.” He hesitated, then added, “To my mate.”

The tip of him glistened with a pearly green drop. My body clenched as heat roared through me.

I met his gaze and smiled. “So basically you’re built to ruin me.”

His grin turned feral. “If you’ll let me.”

I leaned down, brushing my lips over one of the softly pulsing beads. “Oh, I’ll let you.”

I smoothed my lips over one of the coorails again, fascinated by the way it quivered under the lightest touch. Sel hissed through his tusks, his hips giving an involuntary jerk.

“Sensitive,” he rasped. “Told you.”

“You weren’t exaggerating.”

I licked a slow line up the side of his shaft, tracing one of the spiraling strands with my tongue.

The texture was strange and thrilling. Firm yet flexible, each bead hummed beneath my mouth.

I’d never experienced anything like it. I paused, pulling back to take him in again, tracing the path of the coorails from base to tip.

“They’re symmetrical,” I murmured. “Evenly spaced.”

He groaned. “You’re cataloguing me now?”

“Well, you’re a work of art,” I said, smiling. “I feel like I should take notes.”

His laugh was low, shaky. “Later. Right now, I think I’m about to come apart just from the way you’re looking at me.”

“Poor you.” I faked a pout. “Let me see if I can make you feel better.” I kissed the underside of his shaft and worked my way up to the tip, where that drop of green waited for me. I licked it, and the taste was unlike anything I’d ever known. Rich, warm, a little wild. I wanted more.

Sel's hands clenched the bedding, his jaw tight. “Holly.” His growl echoed in the room. “If you keep doing this, it’s going to be over very fast.”

I smiled, kissed my way back down. “We’ve got all night.”

His growl rang out again, and then his hands were on me, pulling me up his body, his mouth seeking mine in a kiss that was hot and open and full of promise.

When we broke apart, panting, he touched my cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

“You already do,” I said with a smile.

I scooted off him and stood at the end of the bed to undress myself, his gaze following my every move. He didn’t just crave me for this moment, I knew he saw me. Every stretch mark, every soft curve, every scar. Yet he still wanted it all.

When I climbed back into the bed, he gathered me close.

“You okay?” I whispered against his hot skin.

“I’ve never been better. I’m trying not to rush. Trying to make it last.”

I kissed the corner of his mouth and trailed down to his throat. “You can go slow. Or fast. Or anywhere in between. I’m not going anywhere.”

That seemed to unlock something in him. His restraint snapped. He flipped me onto my back, bracing himself over me with his arms on either side of my shoulders. I expected intensity, and it was there, but so was the teasing.

He kissed down my chest, pausing to nip, making me gasp. He continued across my belly and slid my legs wide. When he crawled down to lick the inside of my thigh, I nearly levitated.

“Sel, please,” I growled. Me. Growled. Okay, I begged.

He gave a smug, wicked laugh. “What’s wrong, mate? I’m savoring every bit of you.”

His mouth found me where I needed him most, and my back arched off the bed. His hands held me in place while his mouth did devastating things, and when I finally hissed out his name, he kissed my thigh like a thank you.

When he moved up to hover over me again, I pulled him down and kissed him hard. I wanted all of him. Every inch. Every breath.

“Please,” I whispered. “Now.”

He entered me slowly, with a groan like he was barely holding himself together.

His eyes locked on mine the entire time, memorizing every flicker of emotion on my face.

I gasped as he filled me, the sensation intense and stretching and exquisitely perfect.

We were meant to fit together this way. I stroked his sides, savoring how warm his skin was and the way his muscles tensed when he bottomed out inside me.

A shudder ripped through him and his face tensed.

“Alright?” I asked.

“You feel wonderful, mate. Perfect.”

“So do you.” I felt full. Owned. Cherished. And safe, wrapped up in this powerful male who held me like I was everything he could ever need.

Inside me, his coorails shifted with every slight movement, silken and strange and dizzyingly good, like velvet-wrapped sparks dragging along my every nerve.

He held still, braced above me, giving me a moment to breathe. “Tell me if anything’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I lifted my hips, inviting him in deeper. “ You’re perfect.”

He flashed me a sexy, tusk-filled grin, and started moving, slow and careful at first, easing out and gliding back in, setting a rhythm that made my toes curl, and my nerves light up. He watched me like he needed to see everything I felt.

The beads at the end of each coorail pulsed, sending vibrations through me that made it impossible to stay still. My breath hitched every time they dragged across that tender place inside.

We found our rhythm together. My soul had been waiting for his.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and dragged him closer, needing more, deeper, all of him.

Each stroke made his coorails spiral in a different way, grazing new spots, curling with maddening precision that made me clench around him, helpless with need.

He curled his body forward, and his mouth found mine in a desperate kiss that melted into breathless laughter when I caught the guttural orcish curse he muttered under his breath.

I laughed. “That sounded filthy.”

“It was,” he panted, grinning through the sweat and heat.

Still braced above me with one palm on the bed, he reached between us to roll my clit.

With a grunt, he moved harder, faster, making the coorails rub and pulse inside me with every stroke.

Such delicious pressure. They spiraled along my walls, the soft beads stroking places I didn’t even know could feel this good.

I cried out, pleasure building inside me, digging my fingers into his arms as the tension twisted into a knot that was going to let loose soon.

We lost ourselves in each other, teasing, panting, clinging. Every thrust drove us closer, our voices rising together in a chorus of groans and whispers and broken moans.

We finally shattered, him groaning my name and me gasping his like it was the only word I knew.

After, we lay tangled in the blankets, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing circles on my back.

“Are you still breathing?” I asked.

“Barely. You’re dangerous, mate.”

“You’re not harmless yourself.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Thank you.”

I lifted my gaze to meet his. “For what?”

“For letting me love you.”

Tears stung my eyes. I kissed his chest and tucked myself against him.