Page 71 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

“Nnn.” I let out a breathy whine as he strokes up and down my plump outer lips, still working through the thin black fabric.

“Do you remember what I did when we woke up from our power nap?”

Do I remember when his enormous cock finally slipped out of me and left an ocean of cum in its wake? Do I remember half of his hand bringing me to a sloppy orgasm again, fucking the mess back into me? There is nothing wrong with King’s arms. He was tireless, drilling into me, and just when I was about to ask him to take a break—he had me squirting all over him, crowing in satisfaction.

“I don’t hear you saying you remember. Do you want a reminder?” His hand threads along the edge of my waistband, a devilish look in his eye.

“You can’t right now.”

“Oh, I can. I want to. You don’t want me to, and that means... Well, that means I really don’t want to, either. But I do wanna make you come, and nothing about your body is gross to me.”

“That’s very sweet, but—”

“I’d do things in the dark. Blind...folded.” He breaks the word in half with a long, kissing bite on my neck. “You might be extra slippery. Or we could get in the shower. Turn off the lights. Turn on the candles...”

“King! We have a ball to go to. The parade. We promised to bring the dogs trick-or-treating at Hilltop Home.” I don’t want to go to the party at White Pines, even though I’ve never been to a “ball” before. I don’t even want to go see Mrs. Y, even though she said she’s going to dress up as a fan-dancer in hopes of seducing Mr. Reubens, who has cataracts and couldn’t see her if she were an entire bordello.

I want to ride King in the shower, in the dark, with his hands on my breasts and my pussy breaking around his cock.

“We could probably do all of the things if we leave now,” King suggests.

“Let’s go!” I cry and try to sit up.

King’s fist is like iron around my arm. “Oh no. Not yet. My Ingrid comes first.” He smirks. “Literally.”

“Yes. You can pet them. Hi, Harper. Hi, Alban.” I wave to Harper and Alban Wymark and their kids, toddlers who squeal at the sight of the dogs. Ingrid holds the leashes because I’m on crutches and am secretly thinking I’m an idiot trying to navigate a parade today. The town is small—but almost everyone is here.

“It’s a good turnout. Hi, I’m Harper. This is Alban. The two dog-obsessed kiddos in crayon suits are Aidan and Alana.”

“I’m Ingrid.”

“My girlfriend.” I beam, and she blushes, but doesn’t argue.

“Oh-ho! Enjoying the festivities?”

Ingrid nods, smiling at the kids, then at the long black limousine that opens the parade. Manny Finklestein is driving it, while his wife perches on the sunroof, looking like a cross between the Bride of Frankenstein and Morticia Addams. “This is so cool. I don’t think I watched the whole thing before. I love to travel, love big festivals—but I don’t think I ever realized this little town could put so much into one event.”

“Uh. Halloween is a big deal here,” Harper says, looking at me.

“She knows.”

“Oooh! Let me get a video of this float. My mother would love this. She used to go to the Mummers’ Parade in Philadelphia when she was younger and Dad was stationed there.”

The Pine Ridge coven sponsored the first float, and in they come, with a gust of cold air and a swish of lowering clouds, three powerful witches dressed in capes that look like they’re made of fall leaves, swirling and whirling in front of a huge pumpkin. The next float pays homage to the founders of Pine Ridge—the Dullahan Family, and a giant rearing black horse with a headless rider waves at the crowd.

“Ooh. I’m pretty sure Eddie Hyde is in the ambulance. Isn’t it cool how they’ve made it look like a dragon?” I poke at Ingrid’s elbow.

Ingrid is silent, eyes wide.

“Ingrid? Ingy?”

Ingrid holds out her phone.

There’s a picture of me and the dogs. “That never went through, babe. Send it again?”

“No, I shared it. I just shared it to my mom instead of you.”

“Oh?”