Page 87 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

“Almost there.” I give my hips a final hard thrust and feel the slick pop that signifies my knot’s entrance into the shelter of her walls.

Ingrid convulses, her orgasm fast and powerful, sucking me into her with violent spasms that threaten to milk the cum right into her womb.

“That’s it. That’s your right now, you own that cock. Own that knot. Yours forever, so you can have all the pleasure you want,” I moan, eyes closed and hands back on her cheeks.

I can’t thrust anymore, but Ingrid moves, gyrating her hips and bouncing them, her soft flesh swaying so delectably as she makes herself come again, hard on the heels of her first climax.

Too much.

Too much, but so good.

The knot wedges inside, a dark green apple of erectile tissue that grinds into my clit and g-spot without mercy or escape. I think I’m in some twisted kind of heaven, because heaven shouldn’t make people feel like this, like desperate, hedonistic creatures.

But I do. I want him in me forever, I want his cum in me, I want his hands on my nipples, his teeth in my neck, his tusks making permanent lovebites on my shoulders.

His hand smacks down on my bottom, and my insides turn electric. He moves down between my legs and cups my straining pussy hard, fingers flurrying on it with soft wet smacks, then hard rubs that seem to work in tandem with the thick knot pressing into me.

I no longer care how sex is supposed to be. I just know I like it like this—ass up, pussy bursting, and my cum gushing out of me as King wrings orgasm after orgasm from me.

“Are you mine to please, little bride?” he whispers.

I wiggle my hand weakly in the sheets that I’m clawing and clutching. “You put a ring on it,” I whisper, voice hoarse from all the guttural moaning I’ve been doing.

“That’s not the right answer.”

“Yes! I’m yours to please.”

“And fill?”

“Oh, God, yes to fill.”

“Keep squeezing me, and you’ll be full soon.”

“So full now.”

“More full.”

“Not possible.”

“Keep arguing, and I’ll bite you.”

“God, please!”

He laughs, and his chest crashes into mine, smashing me. His tusks drag over my shoulder before his teeth sink gently into my neck and worry the spot that makes me weaker than ever.

It’s raw, and real, and perfect, with his cock embedded in me and my pussy leaking. I can feel him swelling inside of me, and I bear down, hoping I can pop him, make him burst and fill me.

“Mine to fill,” King repeats, and I feel his thick finger gathering up the thick, endless nectar that knotting tea makes me drip. He rubs it around my anus, and his finger slides in, as thick as a small cock and making me impossibly full.

Cocks, knots, fingers...

I scream when I shatter, pounding the mattress with one fist while I let out breathless cries into it, pussy in an endless loop of cramping and bliss.

“You’re mine, too. Fill me. Yours to fill, mine to empty,” I demand with a wail.

King’s hand crashes over mine, huge and deadly, but holding on so desperately, it’s clear to me that we’re each other’s anchors, not just in passion, but in life. We’re there when things are ugly or sweet.

As the moments tick by, I feel his essence flooding me, pushing the limits of my fullness, taking me to some blissful plane I didn’t know existed. We move together until we are lying side by side, his weaker leg extended.