Page 10

CHAPTER 10

T he ten-minute drive from the courthouse to Khill’s cottage took six minutes. Many traffic laws (and maybe even the laws of physics) were broken along the way.

And not a word was uttered. The anticipation in the air between them was so heavy, Justine was tempted to start tearing her clothes off in the car so that by the time they got to a bed (or wall or couch or really any non-mobile, solid surface), she’d be good to go.

Not that she wasn’t already good to go. Khill had gotten her wetter with one kiss than she’d ever gotten during actual sex with anyone.

Which was kind of sad and cool at the same time. Her husband got her wet with nothing but a kiss. Yay! And her other partners (all two of them…but still) barely convinced her that taking off anything other than her pants for sex was even worth it. Boo!

One look at Khill’s face (and the obvious hard-on pressing against his jeans) told her his thoughts were traveling in a direction similar to hers. His jaw was so tight it looked like it might snap under the pressure of his clenched teeth, and while his eyes were technically on the road ahead of them, she could tell his full attention was actually on her. Every time she shifted in her seat, every time she took a deep breath, his focus sharpened.

When they finally got to his place, Khill threw the car in park and shifted in his seat to face her. “I need to know now?—”

“No.”

His brow furrowed. “No?”

“No. We’re not talking now. We can talk after.”

He ran a hand over his jaw, eyeing her up and down, like a hunter siting down prey. “After what?”

“After you fuck me until I can’t walk.”

She figured he might kiss her again at that moment.

She figured wrong.

As it turned out, orcs were really fast. She’d never had much of an opportunity to see just how fast Khill was. But in the time it took the word fuck to fall off her tongue, he’d gotten out of the car, moved around to the passenger side, ripped her door open, yanked her out of the car, and tossed her over his shoulder.

Her heart pounded as he sprinted from the car into his cottage.

Normally, whenever she stopped by Khill’s place, she took the time to admire it. To Justine, it had always reminded her of a Hobbit hole—if Hobbits were 7’ tall and appreciated vaulted ceilings, of course. But with its English-ivy-covered stone walls, round windows, and solid oak beams, floors, and finishings, the cottage was a nature lover’s fantasy.

She’d appreciate all that later, though. At this moment, she was really only interested in Khill’s California King mattress.

Too bad they didn’t make it there.

Khill set her on her feet in the living room and crowded her up against the wall. There—right there in this cottage that looked like a Tolkien novel come to life—they made out like horny teenagers, feeding each other hot, open-mouthed kisses, groping and grappling until they were both panting, bodies begging for release.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Yes?”

Her husband was a man of few words. The one he’d just uttered sounded like it’d torn its way out of his throat like broken glass. A lesser man (or monster) might’ve just taken what he wanted right there against the wall. But not Khill. Nope. Her husband was still a consent king. “Yes,” she whispered, grabbing hold of his bottom lip between her teeth and giving it a good, sharp tug. “A thousand times, yes.”

Then his mouth was on hers once again in what could only be called a claiming. It was rough, demanding, wild, and so, so welcome.

To put the punctuation on her consent, Justine reached between them and rubbed her palm over his cock. He spit out a tangle of urgent-sounding words in a language that was not English (Orcish, maybe?), then slid his hands down to cup her ass and pull her hard against him. She shifted and opened her mouth against his throat, flicking her tongue against his skin.

Good lord, he tasted incredible .

Justine was so turned on she could barely breathe. Or maybe anticipation had replaced all the air in the room. Whatever the case may be, if foreplay with Khill was this intense, how was she supposed to survive when she finally got this man inside her?

He must’ve seen the questions in her eyes because he flashed her a wolfish grin that all but screamed you can take it and you will take it, all of it, for as long as I say you will . Then he spun her around, pressing her chest against the cool wall.

She managed to get her palms up on the wall for support, but he didn’t let her move more than that as he ruthlessly stripped her out of her clothes. All her clothes. They were all now in a puddle at her feet.

Now, Justine wasn’t normally self-conscious. Her body wasn’t perfect, but it was strong and healthy, and she was proud of it. But she could feel the weight of Khill’s stare trailing over her curves, and while it was definitely sexy, it also made her feel a little, well, shy .

But that thought and every other thought she’d had for months fled when Khill pressed up against her back, sliding his hot hands down her thighs, then nudging them apart.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered in her ear before capturing her earlobe between his teeth, giving it a quick nip. “I’ve never seen anything so perfect in my life.”

She sucked in a sharp gasp when he pressed the heel of his hand against her swollen clit. “ Hmmm . You feel perfect, too,” he murmured. “Hot and wet. Mine .”

Yep. She couldn’t agree more. She was his . Voicing that was beyond her at the moment, though. So, all she could do was press back against him as he slowly—way, way too slowly—slid a finger into her, pinning her against him. Justine pressed against the wall to remain upright when her knees threatened to buckle.

Eventually, as he continued torturing her at a glacial pace, she managed to choke out, “Please. Now. Hurry.”

“No,” he said in a growly rumble. “We’re going to consummate the fuck out of our marriage tonight, and we are not going to hurry.”

She groaned. He was trying to kill her. There was no other explanation for it. Then he slid a second thick finger into her and she bit down on her lower lip to stop the needy, embarrassing wail that was just dying to spill off her tongue.

The low chuckle he let out told her he was enjoying her sensual misery a little too much. Bastard.

As his fingers kept tormenting her, Justine reached back threaded her fingers into all that thick, glorious hair of his, and turned her face up to his to for another deep, drugging kiss. His tongue stroked against hers as he shifted his free hand from her hip to her breast. She gasped into his mouth as he brushed his thumb over her nipple. “More,” she whispered into his mouth, hoping he’d at least grant that request.

That’s when he pulled his fingers away.

“Motherfucker!” she wailed.

Another chuckle. He spun her around to face him and pressed her hands to the wall over her head. “Leave those there,” he ordered.

She’d never wanted to lower her hands more in her life. Being told what to do triggered every rebellious instinct she had. But the fear of him moving away and refusing to touch her again had her following orders.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured right before he dropped to his knees at her feet and completely blew her mind.

Holy. Hell.

Yep. This was it. This was how she was going to die.

And she couldn’t think of a better way to go.