Page 29 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

“What?”

“I want to be more than hockey. I want to be a player and more. Hockey makes me happy. It’s part of who I am. But it shouldn’t be all I am, especially not when one injury could take all of that away.”

“Smart.”

Shit, shit, shit. He’s smart. What does that mean for my arguments?

His lips are right there when I look up. Those dark eyes with gold sparks around the pupil sear into mine, and I’m frozen, hypnotized like a rabbit in front of a rattlesnake.

“The second thing is that I know I want you to be with me. I’ll wait until I’m older if you want, Ingrid, but the thing is... I’ll always be behind you. Chasing you. Never catching up... unless you let mecatch you,” his voice is just a husky rasp, and one crutch drops. His hand finds my hip and his mouth finds mine, and oh. Sweet. Jesus.

It’s fireworks. Forbidden, reckless fireworks. He’s going to hurt his leg. I’m going to wreck my peaceful life.

But his hand digs in, and I feel flames shoot right to my pussy, and I can’t breathe, and it’s wonderful.

“Let me catch you? Please?” he whispers.

“I... I don’t know how to—”

“You trust me not to hurt you. And you let me keep kissing you. You don’t tell me I’m too young and dumb to know when I meet the woman of my dreams.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know the spirit in you. I saw it the first time I met you. You shoved it in my face and made me fall head over heels in love.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Does with Orcs.”

I can’t argue with that. I couldn’t anyway, because my mouth is busy.

“Just kisses,” I say with my last reserve of strength.

King nods. “I promise.”

Chapter Eleven: Ingrid and King

When I get home, I let the dogs out into the fenced-in yard for ten minutes, then race upstairs and into a hot shower. Need a cold shower, but... no. I want it warm and wet, like other parts of me.

King kept his promise. He only kissed me. Sitting on his enormous leather couch, I leaned over him while he reclined, his injured leg straight and elevated slightly, and he looked up at me with utter adoration. By the end of the night, we hadn’t talked a lot, but my mouth was exhausted and my mind was whirling.

No one has ever touched me like that, just on my neck and my face, his fingers in my hair, and made me feel so aroused. I kept waiting for him to ask for more, but he didn’t, keeping things at a slow, burning simmer the whole time. When I sat back up, whimpering inside because I’d lost the best pillow ever (Orc pecs), I could see the thick erection bulging in his pants.

There was no “Take care of this for me, honey” or “Aren’t you going to do something about this before you leave?”

Just those adoring looks.

Lingering kisses.

I can’t help it if my hand is now going to where I wanted his cock. I’m an expert in self-satisfying at this point, and I have plenty of accessories that could help me. Right now, I barely need to touch myself, fingers sinking in deep and rocking against my nub before I’m coming, thinking of him.

I get out of the shower several moments later, wrapped in my comfy terrycloth bathrobe, facing two dogs who are very uncertainabout whether or not they like it when I’m barely home at night. “Oh, guys. I’m a mess,” I mutter when I meet their accusatory eyes.

Daisy whimpers and runs in circles as I towel my hair dry. Chip hops up on the foot of the bed and shows me his red teddy bear, his stress chewing toy. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long. I met someone. Another person who could use a little rescuing, I think.”

As I settle into bed with my television on and a hand on each dog, my mind wanders.

You don’t need another rescue. Not unless it’s another furball.