Page 16 of My Orc Contract Husband (Eastshore Isle #9)

Chapter Nine

Tarkhan

Married. I was married. In the eyes of the law, in the eyes of our community, Sami belonged to me, and I belonged to her.

It was a heady feeling, and yet…

She wasn’t really mine.

In the days following our wedding, I moved my things from the apartment into her house. I didn’t have much—didn’t need much—and she teased me that she’d cleaned out her closet for nothing.

Actually, she teased me about a lot of things, and I found myself loving it.

I loved a lot of things about living with Sami.

I loved cooking for her; I loved the way she smiled as she sipped her first cup of coffee in the mornings; I loved her little chuckle whenever she saw my woebegone aloe pups sitting on the kitchen windowsill; I loved the way she moaned when I played with her hair as we snuggled in front of the television.

The second bedroom was her office, but the bigger room was enough for both of us. Thank the old gods she already had a king-sized bed; I still had to sleep diagonally, but it turned out she didn’t mind cuddling up against my side.

It wasn’t the first time I’d slept with a female by my side, but it was the first time I found myself looking forward to waking up each morning. Not just because my wife was wonderfully responsive to my touch, but because I genuinely enjoyed spending time with her.

Yeah, we were meshing pretty well, which should’ve been a surprise…but somehow it really wasn’t.

You want to know the moment I knew I was right where I belonged?

When Sami pressed the button to roll up the garage door and proudly presented me with an almost-empty space.

She’d moved all her gardening supplies to one small corner, leaving the rest of the garage for me.

Finally being able to move all my tools and equipment out of my truck, seeing it all piled there in the middle of the garage? That really meant a lot to me.

Kinda felt like…well, felt like I was home , if that makes sense.

The following evening, after work, I started building her a table to go along the back wall of the garage so she could spread out her gardening stuff. And I was already looking forward to helping her plant the bulbs and herbs she was planning for the autumn .

A year and a day. You have a full turn of the seasons with her.

I was already afraid it wasn’t going to be enough.

Each day that passed, I could feel us relaxing more.

Not just with each other, but in general.

By the second week of our marriage, Sami no longer scanned our surroundings before climbing out of my truck—I still needed to build that step for her to climb up and down more easily.

She no longer startled at the smallest noise, as if afraid someone was sneaking up on her, and I was grateful for that.

Was it possible Pierce T. Montgomery III had learned about our marriage and given up on having Sami—or rather, Sami’s half of the business—as his own? Was it possible he was going to leave us alone?

Yeah, I was becoming even more paranoid.

No, not paranoid. Just…uncomfortable. The more time that went by without Montgomery popping out of the woodwork and shouting “gotcha,” the itchier I became. I didn’t feel at home in my own skin.

Two weeks of marriage had gone by. Fifty weeks left. Had Montgomery somehow learned about our temporary arrangement? Was he going to wait us out and show up in three hundred and fifty-three days—not that I was counting—to announce he’d be taking Sami?

Like fuck I’d let that happen. Even if we were no longer married…

Usually it was around that point in the internal debate that one of two things would happen :

If I was at work, the foreman would point out my distraction, or the universe would by sending my hammer down hard on my thumb.

Or if I was at home, I’d grab Sami from behind and lick her neck in that exact spot I knew drove her wild, then allow my Kteer to sink into the sweet scent of her arousal.

Home .

Yeah, I was home with her.

And no place felt more like home than her arms.

Each night—and depending on our mood, sometimes right after work—I slid into bliss with her skin against mine. It felt so damn natural to roll over and pull her against me, to run my callused palms gently down her sides, to cup her perfectly beautiful tits, to taste them.

I loved the noises she made when I kissed her. I loved the way she arched under my touch. I loved the way she wrapped her arms around my neck and bucked against me, as if she needed me to ground her.

Every evening I made love to my wife with my fingers and my tongue.

There was nothing— nothing , I tell you—in this world that compared to the taste of Sami’s climax.

I would slide one, two, sometimes even three fingers into her as I licked her, murmuring words of praise as I gently stroked that rough patch that drove her mad…

and she’d scream my name as she came on my face.

And then I’d bring her a glass of water, and I’d do it again two or three times. Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly restless, I’d wake her in the middle of the night with my mouth, and I loved the way she slowly came awake, then reached for me to snuggle up at my side.

Yeah. I was addicted to my wife’s pussy.

The night she showed me her dildo, I nearly came in my sweatpants. Gods of the ancestors, the sight of that orc-shaped cock disappearing into her sweet folds? It was almost more than I could bear.

But she loved it, and I swallowed down my jealousy. If it couldn’t be my cock sinking deep inside her, then at least I got to watch this magnificent display.

She called for me as she came on that dildo, and only a decade’s worth of control kept me from reaching for my own cock and stroking myself to completion.

But I didn’t, because I’d spent years proving to myself my cock didn’t have to be involved to bring pleasure. Sami’s pleasure— my wife’s pleasure —was delicious enough without my cock being involved. This was what I deserved, and I was so fucking lucky to be able to experience her ecstasy.

So yeah, I rolled her over and licked her sore little pussy until she came again, and that was good enough for me. It had to be.

We’d been married for three weeks when I woke up early one morning.

The late summer sun was just beginning to paint the eastern sky purple, and I didn’t have to be at the job site for another three hours.

I was finishing up my contract with the new condos, and soon I’d switch over to working on Abydos’s new home, giving him the polished teak-and-glass look he’d asked for .

He hadn’t returned to Eastshore—or even visited his East Coast plant—since my wedding.

I couldn’t help but feel hurt by that.

This morning, though, as I stared down at the female in my arms, I had the sense that this was what the ancestors had wanted for me.

I wasn’t settled, and I wouldn’t be until we knew what would happen with Montgomery.

But here I had a loving wife who made me smile, who accepted who I was and what I could offer her.

So why did I still feel so…sharp? Itchy?

Irritated? Was it only because of Montgomery?

Or because, despite all the reasons I should be happy, I didn’t feel complete ?

When I saw Aswan settled with Hannah and the kitlings, or any of the other Mated pairs on Eastshore, I saw males who were where they were supposed to be.

You’re not Mated to Sami, you’re married. There’s a big difference .

Yeah, there was.

And despite this bliss, we were still keeping secrets from one another, weren’t we?

Hiding my sigh of irritation—irritation at myself—I slid my arms from around my wife and rolled gently from the bed, padding to the bathroom to start my day.

That’s why, when she finally joined me in the kitchen, the pancakes and sausages were almost done. “Good morning,” she yawned as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” I bent to brush a kiss against her temple. “Just wanted to surprise my wife.”

Her shy grin made it worth it .

“Let me see your shirt,” I commanded, and obligingly, she held out the T-shirt she’d wriggled into this morning.

“STFUACOTDLADLS,” I read. “That’s a tough one.”

“You’ll never get it,” she challenged with a wink as she went up on her toes to pull down my favorite oversized mug from the cabinet, the movement yanking up the hem of the shirt and revealing the delicious curve of her ass, covered in green cotton panties.

Down boy , I warned both my cock and my Kteer , and tried to focus on the letters on her T-shirt.

“Uh… shut the fuck up , I got that. How about…” I grinned. “After Cuddling Orcs Twice Daily, Life Always Does Look Sweeter.”

She burst into giggles, then stretched up on her toes to kiss my cheek, which frankly made me feel like a damn hero.

We plated the food without speaking, and she set my coffee at my place at the kitchen table. I had a place at her table. She knew how I drank my coffee. I knew she preferred her pancakes with syrup but no butter, and that she poured that syrup all over her sausages too.

Would she teach her kids to do that?

I felt my lips tug against my tusks as I grinned, imagining Sami surrounded by a handful of little girls, all her mini clones: blonde hair, wide green eyes, curious questions, wry smirks, and brave hearts.

Deep in my chest, my Kteer jolted, imagining her as a mother. I’d never considered children of my own, but sometimes I ached to save the kids who needed it .

It wasn’t until the pancake dropped from my spatula into the pan again that I realized I was gripping the utensil so hard I’d bent it. Cursing quietly, I reshaped the metal and scooped the last pancake onto the stack I’d been making, then carried it to the table.