Page 33 of Enchanted with the Orc (The Kingverse Orcs #4)

Tasia

I circled my arms around his waist, feeling so very close to him, rubbing myself against his tusks, smothering myself in his delicious scent. I knew what he was doing. He was marking me, but I didn’t care. I was tired of being cautious. Tired of needing to make the safe choice all the fucking time.

Especially when I was with him. I didn’t need to be. I could be recklessly wanton and know that I was perfectly safe. I was burning up inside, my pussy soaked for him. That wasn’t something that happened… ever. Not since David. Not with David.

“This feels amazing,” I tell him, gasping the words against his lips, and they curled with what had to be smugness. I didn’t chastise him because he deserved it. He could definitely be smug.

He grunted his response, but it was a yes. His erection pressed against my stomach. So hard. So immense.

“Take me,” I said simply, not holding anything back from him. I didn’t have the willpower. Not anymore. I’d been doing it for weeks, and I was finally going to have what I’d wanted this entire time.

He murmured an incoherent response and then suddenly his muscular thigh was pressed between mine. An unexpected pressure right between my legs, exactly where I needed him.

I gasped, my head falling back onto the sofa, cushioned under me while pleasure saturated my body—new and terrifying.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured—and fuck yes. It is. Not everything that I wanted, but it was a fantastic place to start.

I tried to arch closer, to chase his lips with mine, but he’s too far away and my body wouldn’t let me wiggle away from his touch. And he was not helping at all. It didn’t matter, though. His hands were exactly where they should be.

One on my hip and one on my lower back, tilting me to the perfect position for the thickness of his thigh to hit just right.

“Enka,” I moaned.

He made a soft, murmuring noise, but he didn’t stop. I reached up, my nails scraping against his scalp, the shorter hair at his nape—soft and thick—as my hips moved, desperate for more friction. My underwear was soaked .

I had a brief, delirious moment to wonder if he could feel the slick mess of me through the denim of our jeans.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, staring down at me with unblinking dark eyes, and apparently that was all the permission my body needed.

There was nothing particularly romantic about the moment. Nothing too skilled or delicate about the way he grinded me under his body, but it felt like the most significant experience I’d ever had in my life.

So very significant that I couldn’t go through it alone. I lean forward, craving more of him. Anything to bind us together. But it’s as if he’s the sun and I’m a planet, forever pulled to him, but unable to reach.

He’s staring down at me, his lips parts, breathing ragged and quick. Our gazes are locked and I’m hot all over, but I can’t look away.

“Enka,” I started, my voice a blubbering sob and I wanted to say more. The underside of his cock pushed roughly against my hip, jutting in what had to be a lewd aberration in his jeans, and I wanted to touch it. Needed to, if I was being honest.

But before I could, pleasure erupted inside me and I came, dazed by the aftershocks of my own body. Everything that was happening to it—that I’d never experienced and couldn’t hope to understand, or replicate on my own ever again. The uncontrollable, quaking tremors that seized me.

Having an orgasm in front of someone was always a vulnerable, soul-baring experience.

I hadn’t done it much, but in that moment, I felt gutted, my soft center open for him to peruse.

But he watched me lose control, his chocolate irises swallowed by his pupils, and it somehow made the experience even more erotic.

“Fuck,” he hissed from above, lips pressed hot against my temple. For a long, silent moment, his grip was a vise-tight, splitting, bruising cage, and I feel trapped. Then I remembered where I was. Who I was with. “Fuck. ”

I panted through the heat. Grounded myself as I climbed back down from heights I’d never thought I would ever experience.

Okay. So, maybe, once upon a time I thought I knew what an orgasm felt like, and I was only just discovering that I was so wrong it should be illegal. That was fine. I could work on a new definition. We could work on that new definition together.

A minute later, Enka lowered himself next to me on the sofa-bed. I couldn’t read his expression, and for a moment, I was worried that he might try to leave me there, alone. Like we’d broken a rule and he’d run. But he cuddled next to me. Gathered me in his arms.

His eyes were filled with something that was too much like shock. I hoped that the smile on my face—that was pretty much hurting because it was so huge—tipped him off that I was pretty great, actually. He grinned back at me and that’s when he leaned down to kiss me.

His mouth.

I can’t imagine that anything had ever been sweeter, more necessary, than his mouth was in that moment. I moaned, sucking on his tongue as his huge palm slid up my back, under my t-shirt.

We’ve been matching our styles and outfits almost every day.

The realization hit me like a slam to my sternum. We’d been dressing like a little family ever since we came to this hotel. And he’d been choosing the outfits.

The giggle I released made him pause, and he quirked an eyebrow as he grinned down at me.

“Something funny?” he asked, dipping his hand down to give my ass a firm squeeze.

The giggle transformed into another moan, and I shook my head. “You’ve been matching our outfits,” I accused, and he didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

“Yep,” he agreed, nodding. “And I’ll keep doing it. You’re both mine, and I want everyone to know.”

I wasn’t allowed to continue my line of questioning since he moved his huge hand up my back, spanning so much skin I gasped, tugging my shirt with him. He had it up, and over my head before I knew what was going on.

My bra was next. It was huge and clunky. An old nursing bra that was so comfortable I couldn’t give it up. It was now about half of a cup size too big and didn’t do anything for lift.

I would have regretted not putting on something new—something that he’d bought—but I couldn’t.

Not with the way he was looking at me as though I was the sweetest dessert on earth and he’d been without food for years.

And when the straps fell to the side and he tugged it down, baring me, it was like game over.

The hunger was a fire in his gaze, and it scalded me. He lowered his mouth to mine and I gasped at the sweet invasion.

He kisses like he’s starved for me.

Like he’d been waiting the entire time for this moment. Holding back. Like the possibility of the two of us doing exactly what we were doing had occurred to him before, but it was something he’d set aside, storing it in a deep, dark place where it had grown into something huge and terrifying.

He was distracted now, as if he didn’t know whether to kiss me or pull away to look at me. As if he didn’t know where to look. He was staring at my breasts like they were something spectacular—which they weren’t. His lips parted and his breaths were quick and shallow.

He didn’t speak. Instead he looked up and down at me, his eyes glazed.

It was long moments before he said, “I want to keep you with me like this for a week.” His hand came up to cup my breast, not exactly gentle—as if he was on the very edge of losing control.

Just on the side of too forceful, and instead of being afraid, I felt myself clench around nothing. “For a year. Longer.”