Page 98 of Falling for the Orc All-Star
“Sounds good,” I smile. But not as good as being Ingrid’s All-Star. That’s all the prize I need.
“Where are you taking us?”
“Ian Fenclan rents hunting lodges—but think swanky rich people lodges, with fireplaces and hot tubs. No one else for miles around. Views of the mountain and the forest... I mean, honestly, most people who can afford to go hunting on his private lands are wealthy, but they like to pretend they can rough it, too. It’s a good honeymoon spot, I promise.”
“I trust you.” I squeeze King’s leg and lean against him. “I haven’t said that about anyone in so long. I do trust you. All the way, with all my heart. I know it’s not the time to talk about it, maybe, but if you want to take that trial with the Sharks, I’ll come with you. I’ll—”
“I don’t want it. I want... I want to stay here in town and play on the team until this body quits being able to deal with the punishment. I’m an Orc, so that should be in my forties. But I’m an Orc with a bum knee, so maybe in my thirties. When I’m done with that... Well, no, before I’m done with that, I think I’d like to start a hockey program at the high school. We could let them use our rink. I think I could help coach, and maybe start up a pee-wee league. If I can’t find jobs that I love in the hockey field—”
“You will. You could probably get some sort of assistant coaching position now. Listen, I trust you. Not just with my heart, but with our future. I’m not worried about what kind of work you’ll do, as long as it makes you happy.” I look up at him as the truck winds up a tree-lined road and the spitting snow starts to fall harder. “I havenews for you, King Silverbow. Everything you do makes you happy now, because your heart is in it, and it helps people. People love you. I love you. And this... Wow. This is the most beautiful honeymoon spot. The most beautiful wedding night.”
King parks and hurries to the side, throwing open my door and scooping me out of the truck and into his arms. “That’s because you’re the most beautiful bride.”
“There’s a fireplace. In the bedroom!”
“And I have knees that not only work, but they can dish out whatever you can take,” I say, trapping my bride against the wall. I steal her hands, then her lips, holding her still as I pin her and let her feel how hard I’ve grown in just a few minutes since we’ve arrived and settled the dogs in.
Ingrid squirms away with a reluctant moan. “I have to change. Are you hungry?”
“Oh, yes. But only for a certain piece of you.”
“Then you’ll really like this outfit.”
Tease. Ingrid shoves me out of the bedroom and shuts the door. Inside, I can hear her humming as she changes. I meander to the kitchen, blood racing as I think about her, about tasting her, about being on top of her for the first time. I’ve been under, behind, and I’ve been her oh-so-willing chair, but now... I hurriedly fill the electric kettle and put it on. “Did you pack your tea, babe?”
“Yes. At this point, my blood content is 10% knotting tea and 1% champagne. I’m sure you’ll approve.”
I turn and have to clutch the wall for support.
Ingrid and I haven’t had a chance to dress up for each other, not really.
Right now, she’s in something white and filmy, with corset cups that push her breasts to heaven and a skirt that barely covers her thighs. When she pauses, leaning seductively in the doorway of the bedroom, one leg goes up and shows off her round ass and the fact that there are no panties included in this ensemble.
“Making tea?” she asks.
“Uhhh. No.” I click the kettle off and rush forward. “I plan on having bridal mead.”
“Oh, is that some Orc custom I haven’t heard of?” Ingrid asks.
“Yes. You take one bride.” I growl and spring, making Ingrid squeak as I swoop down upon her. “And you turn her honey into liquid form by vigorous stirring. Tasting often.”
“Oh, God...” Ingrid whimpers as my fingers slide between her soft outer lips and sink easily into her pink heat, stirring her dripping juices in a circle as I work her open.
I don’t care if there’s a bed ten feet away. I drop to my knees without complaint, her back against the doorjamb, and my hands locked around her thighs. My shoulders become the perfect saddle for her upper legs, and I bury my face in my bride’s pussy.
“Mmm. Now, this ...Thisis the best bridal mead in the world. Rich and fruity and sweet. Sticky like honey and flowing like wine,” I praise between licks, my tusks dragging across her folds to make her shiver. Ingrid leans back and cups her breasts, pinching and playing with her hard nipples as I attack her rapidly swelling, stiffening clit. My fingers dig into her soft, padded thighs, and I love the way her fluffy softness ripples out between my fingers. “Ingrid is a banquet. Sumptuous. My feast.”
“King. H-honey...”
“Mate.” I suck her greedily into my mouth, marveling at how good she tastes, loving that her juices literally turn from rivulets to rapids, enough for my hungry mouth to swallow. I plunder herinsides, tongue working in tandem with lips, trying to turn her into a screaming fountain.
But she undoes me first with her desperate little pants of, “My mate. Mine. All mine,” as her hands yank my hair and her thighs buffet the sides of my neck.
I don’t want to rush. I want to take my time, but my cock has other ideas.
My bride is calling for her mate.
I’m just supposed to wait?