Page 14 of My Orc Contract Husband (Eastshore Isle #9)

Chapter Eight

Sami

Holy moly, I was married .

After everything I’d done to avoid marriage to Pierce, it felt bonkers to me to actually be married, and to a guy I only just met.

No, that’s not true.

I’d known Tarkhan for a while, and I trusted him, which was a big deal. I knew he might be a flirt and a charmer, but he was a good male, an honest and decent one. Sure, he might have secrets, but I was confident he was still a good guy.

That’s why I’d chosen him.

But now we were married , much to my Aunt Sharon’s confusion, and tonight was our wedding night. The small reception at Pastabilities had gone by in a blink, and now…

I left Tarkhan in the living room, telling him to make himself at home, and I went to change out of the pretty green dress I’d chosen with Riven when we’d gone to the mainland yesterday.

Make yourself at home . Yikes. I guess this was Tarkhan’s home now, huh? At least until he got approved for a mortgage and started building his dream home. But until then, he’d live here. With me. He’d sit at my kitchen table, and he’d sleep in my bed.

I stared, wide-eyed, at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Sleep in my bed . With him . My husband .

I knew I was panicking because I was thinking in italics.

You know, sooner or later, you’re going to have to go in there and talk to him. Figure out what the plan is. You can’t ask him to sleep on the couch.

And if he slept in the bed, was he going to expect…you know? Sex.

Would you mind ?

I took a deep breath and admitted the truth: Not even a little bit .

I might be a virgin, but I knew what I liked. I liked my vibrator, I liked my ridged dildo. And I liked Tarkhan—I liked imagining him touching me. That quick kiss we’d shared at the altar, the briefest peck on the lips? That hadn’t been nearly enough .

So you’re going to do it? You’re going to fuck Tarkhan ?

I mean…no, I wasn’t that brave. But if he wanted to fuck me, I would be pretty darn enthusiastic, let me tell you.

So, before I lost my resolve, I grabbed my favorite sleep shirt, tugged it over my shorts, and yanked open the bedroom door.

“What’s that smell?” I blurted. It was…warm. Comforting.

I followed it into the kitchen, where I found Tarkhan—his jacket missing, his shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up—smiling over his shoulder at me as he stood at the stove.

“Hello. I noticed you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I’m making you a grilled cheese sandwich.

Hope that’s okay—you did say to make yourself at home. ”

Amazed, I inched closer. “You’re making me …?” I trailed off. Sure enough, there was a stack of delicious-smelling sandwiches at his elbow.

“Are you hungry?” he asked gently, but I could only gape.

He’d… noticed ? He’d noticed that I’d been too nervous to eat at the reception, and now he was making me a snack? When was the last time someone had paid that much attention to me? Well, Aunt Sharon did, but I’d never met a male who cared enough to notice something like that.

Wow.

Tarkhan was looking at me expectantly, and my brain kicked me in my tongue. “Not really!” My response to his question about being hungry burst out. When his expression drooped a little, I hurried to explain. “I mean, I probably will be later. I just…I guess I’m nervous. Too awkward to eat?”

Understanding dawned on his face, and he slid the last sandwich from the pan, turned off the burner, and wiped his hands on a dishrag before crossing to me. Before I could ask what he was doing, Tarkhan wrapped his arms around me.

He was…hugging me?

He was comforting me. Wow.

“You looked beautiful today, Sami. Did I tell you that?” He huffed a little laugh. “Well, you look beautiful all the time—you’re the most beautiful female I’ve ever met. But today you looked particularly stunning.”

What an incredible sweet thing to say. Still, modesty demanded me to reply, “I’m sure you’ve dated far more beautiful women.”

He hesitated, and when he exhaled, his breath stirred my hair. “Honestly? Maybe I have. I suddenly can’t remember a single one of them. Because none of them had your strength, your bravery, and your humor. That makes you the most beautiful female I’ve ever met.”

Oh .

Wow.

I found myself pressing closer, enjoying the feel of being held by him, surrounded by his warmth and strength. I felt…cherished. Safe .

“Then I should probably tell you that you were really hot today in your suit,” I finally admitted. “I mean, when you’re in your work pants and those tight T-shirts, I’m delighted to look at you. But in a suit, you’re positively devastating.”

“Really?” I could tell I’d surprised him. “Then I’ll make an effort to wear the suit more often.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I assured him, pulling away slightly so I could tip my head back and meet his eyes. “Not for me.”

“Of course I do,” he scoffed. “Have to make my wife happy, you know.”

Wife.

I was someone’s wife. Someone I chose . Someone who wanted to take care of me, instead of just using me.

He married you so he could get a mortgage. That’s using you .

Yeah, but he was protecting me from Pierce. And he noticed things about me and tried to care for me. And he was hugging me.

Actually, no, he wasn’t just hugging me any longer. His hand had risen to the back on my neck now and he was squeezing, rubbing the tight muscles. I felt myself melting under his touch, those big fingers of his pressing and kneading in all the right places.

I sighed, relaxing against him.

What would it feel like for him to touch me everywhere with those fingers ?

I squeezed my thighs together to capture the rush of warmth down there.

Tarkhan inhaled sharply, and I remembered what I’d read about orcs’ senses. Oh Lord, could he tell what I was thinking about? Did he know that I was imagining him kissing me? And doing more?

“What does your shirt mean?” he blurted it out, as if he was just trying to start a conversation.

I blinked, surprised, before I remembered I was wearing my naughty acronym shirt. “Oh. It’s…uh. It’s a bookish thing. An acronym. It means…it’s just like an inside joke. With book girlies.”

“And you are a book girly?”

“I…like to read. Um. Certain kinds of books.” I probably shouldn’t admit I’d even picked up a few dozen monster-fucking books since I’d taken him on as a client, right? I mean, admitting I’d fantasized about a client was likely a professional no-no.

Except now he was my husband.

His nostrils flared again, and my cheeks heated, guessing he could read my body’s responses.

Tarkhan’s voice had dropped. “What kind of books?”

Without thinking, my gaze locked on his lips, I whispered, “Kissing books.”

His tongue darted out to flick over his tusk, a gesture I found simultaneously erotic and utterly charming. “Sami…we need to talk about what you expect from this marriage. Do you want… Me? ”

Did he flex his hips on purpose? I’m not sure, but being wrapped in his arms, I could feel his hardness—his cock —against my belly, and I managed not to moan. It was close.

Instead, I think I pressed myself against him and tried to remember how to speak. “I’m…I’m a virgin, Tarkhan, but I’ve practiced plenty of times. I mean, I’m not going to go all squeamish, I just thought you should know that I’ve never been with a guy.”

I swear I saw something like triumph flare in his eyes for a moment before he reined it in. “We don’t have to do anything, Sami.”

“No, no.” I took a deep breath. “I want to experience this. I want to experience it with you.”

Was it possible for his voice to go even lower. “Experience what, wife?”

“Pleasure,” I breathed.

“Oh, I’m very good at pleasure.”

That’s what I’m betting on .

I would have said it, had he not lowered his lips to mine, and I forgot about everything else.

Who would have thought that my lips could fit so perfectly between his tusks? His mouth wasn’t at all oddly shaped, and felt like the other guys I’d kissed over the years— no . No, Tarkhan felt so much better than anyone I’d kissed before, let’s be honest.

His lips were large and soft, and parted over mine.

I liked that he didn’t shove his tongue inside my mouth like some of the other guys I’d kissed…

instead, he gently teased me with its tip, until I was in charge, allowing him access.

My tongue met his, and when I felt the ridges along his tongue, I gasped.

He was smiling at that sound as he moved his lips to my jaw, my temple, then back to my lips. I could do little except hold onto his waist and remember to breathe, because I was amazed how erotic just kissing could be. It was as if every fiber of my being was attuned to this male. My husband .

I didn’t even bother to stifle the little whimper of need at that thought, and he answered with a groan.

“I want to touch you, Sami,” he whispered harshly against my temple, his cock hard against my stomach. “But only if you?—”

“Touch me,” I demanded. “Now.”

With a groan, his hand went to my breast, and when he found out I wasn’t wearing a bra, he groaned again, his hand cupping me through my shirt. He squeezed, and I gasped.

“Gods below, you have the most perfect tits,” he rumbled, and I had to smile as I arched into his hold.

“Well, they like what you’re doing very much,” I assured him.

Or at least, I thought I liked it. Right up until he lowered his mouth to my chest and closed his lips around my nipple through my T-shirt . That’s when I decided I loved what he was doing .

“Oh my God,” I whispered as my knees went out, and I clutched at his head to hold him in place.

He chuckled before rasping his tongue across my nipple, the wet cotton sticking to my skin in the most intriguing ways.

“You going to tell me what this acronym means?” he asked, switching his attention to the other breast.

I could only moan in response.

While one hand held me, the other dropped lower. I felt him cup my core through my sleep shorts, and I bucked against him, the pressure surprising and perfect all at once.