Page 18 of My Orc Contract Husband (Eastshore Isle #9)

Chapter Ten

Sami

When I lived with my father, I used to dread Friday nights.

That was the time when I could cease doing Dad’s bidding in the office, and get all dressed up to charm his friends at some social function.

I used to feel like a doll: perfect makeup, perfect heels, perfect gown, perfect smile.

I would flirt and schmooze and impress whomever he was trying to woo that week.

After, I would scrub myself in the hottest shower I could manage, trying not to feel like a whore.

Once I moved to Eastshore, and especially once I got my own place, Friday nights were me time. I would spend the week looking forward to getting take out, and I’d curl up on the couch with a ridiculous amount of food and corn chips and white wine.

What can I say? I’m classy .

But in the weeks since my marriage to Tarkhan, in the weeks since he’d moved in with me, Friday nights had become…something else.

A celebration of us . Of my body at least.

It was as if, knowing neither of us had early mornings, he could spend all night worshipping me. And he treated it as if it was his job; that’s how intently he studied me, how focused he became on my responses.

But not once— not once —did he remove his underwear.

Oftentimes he would come to me without a shirt, which was scrumptious, because I adored getting to run my hands over his chest and stomach and muscled arms. Occasionally, he removed his pants as well, but the guy even slept in his boxers.

Never took them off around me.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand modesty. It’s just that…

Well, he’d seen me naked as the day I was born. Hell, he’d had me tossed this way and that, lifting me, touching me, stroking me…and I’d never even seen his cock.

But it was there . I mean, how could I miss it? It was big and thick, just like my dildo, and I could see it straining against his boxers. He just never took it out, never touched it.

Never let me touch it.

And after this many weeks of marriage, this many orgasms, I was dying to touch him .

The longer we went like this, the more I worried what was wrong.

Riven told me to just go with it and enjoy the ride, since it’s a temporary arrangement anyway. But it didn’t feel right . Not the temporary part, and not this. Oh, if Tarkhan didn’t want to have sex with me, I would be okay with it; I liked him enough to be fine with whatever he wanted to give me.

But it was the fact we hadn’t discussed it at all that was really eating me up inside.

Why wouldn’t he let me touch him? Why didn’t he want to… you know . Be inside me?

Tonight I was going to find out.

But it was a good thing I didn’t have my heart set on a deep conversation, because the moment I walked through the front door Friday afternoon, Tarkhan was waiting for me with a determined look on his face. And I mean determined .

As he strode toward me, I saw his nostrils flare, and my heart began pounding in anticipation. My briefcase dropped from my hands, and I stumbled back until my shoulders were pressed against the door and my palm was pressed against my chest.

At the way he was looking at me—as if he were a hunter and I was his prey—liquid heat pooled between my legs, and I saw a flash of green in the center of his dark eyes.

“Tarkhan?” I breathed.

He didn’t respond, but dropped to his knees in front of me. Before I could gasp, he reached for me, his huge hands gripping my outer thighs, holding me in place… he bent forward and pressed his face against the junction of my thighs.

“I’ve missed you, dkaar .”

My tongue couldn’t form words. We’d seen each other only eight hours ago, and what did that word mean? He’d used it at the wedding, hadn’t he?—

And then I wasn’t thinking at all, because Tarkhan twisted his head and his tusk caught the bottom of my business skirt, yanking it upward.

I thought it was on accident until he helped it along with his thumb, and then I was standing in my foyer, my husband on his knees in front of me, holding my legs apart as he slid his tongue along the soaked gusset of my panties.

“Tarkhan!” I yelped, my fingers twining through his hair to hold myself upright, as if his strong grip wouldn’t. “What are you…?”

When his tongue swiped along my cleft again, my question broke off with a groan.

I think it was the suddenness of his attack which left me defenseless, which wrenched my arousal from heading home after a long day to dear Lord fuck me now in a half dozen heartbeats.

I whimpered as his tongue pressed into me, my panties doing nothing to stop him. I wanted to feel his ridges inside me, the stupid cotton was?—

I groaned when he nudged the underwear out of the way, and he echoed it as his tongue slid along my cleft.

Tarkhan used his thumbs to hold me open, as if I were a buffet and he was starving.

Each lick, each stroke, was accompanied by a groan or a whisper of praise, and soon I was rocking against him, holding myself steady with my grip on his head.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured. “Be a good girl and come on my face.” Another stroke. “You want this, don’t you?”

“ Yes ,” I groaned, gyrating against him.

One of his fingers slid inside me, and I whimpered as he stroked that spot behind my clit that always drove me wild.

His finger curled inside me, applying a steady pressure that had my hips jerking forward, seeking more of his touch.

Tarkhan’s tongue circled my clitoris, teasing and flicking, each movement deliberate and designed to drive me closer to the edge.

I could feel the pressure building, the tension coiling tight in my belly.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled, the vibration of his voice sending shivers up my spine. “That’s my good little fucktoy.”

Holy God , he’d really understood the assignment, hadn’t he?

When he hummed in satisfaction, I could only assume my pussy had responded to his words the same way the rest of me had: complete meltdown.

My breath came in short gasps, my body tensing as the pleasure intensified. I could feel it building, a wave ready to crash over me. His grip on my thigh tightened, holding me open, holding me in place as he devoured me.

He added a second finger, stretching me, filling me, and I cried out, my head falling back against the door. His fingers stroked in a rhythm that matched the flicking of his tongue, and I was lost, drowning in sensation.

When he hummed again and closed his lips around my clitoris, I broke.

My orgasm ripped through me, my body convulsing as I came hard against his mouth.

He didn’t stop, his fingers and tongue working me through it, prolonging the pleasure until I was a trembling mess, my knees weak and my breath ragged.

He looked up at me, his face glistening with my release, a pleased grin on his face. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice rich with approval. I could only nod, my body still humming with the aftermath of my orgasm, my heart pounding in my chest.

I wanted to speak, to ask him What the hell was that about ? But my lungs struggled to draw in a full breath, and my lips wouldn’t form words.

Instead, I stared down at him, wide-eyed, my fingers slowly relaxing, and watched him lick his lips in satisfaction.

“Tark…” I tried, but he interrupted me by rolling to his feet.

When he was towering over me, he bent to kiss me, and I tasted my own pleasure on his lips. “Welcome home, wife,” he murmured.

Maybe if I hadn’t been so dazed, I would have guessed what was coming from his smirk. But I didn’t, and thus I yelped in surprise when he bent and hefted me over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I guess I managed to find my voice after all .

He was already striding toward the bedroom.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes, Sami. I’ve ordered pizza, and you know they’re backed up on Fridays, so I have at least ninety minutes to make you come as many times as possible.”

What? What ? That was his plan?

I mean, don’t get me wrong; my pussy flooded with desire just imagining what he had in mind, and from his knowing chuckle and the way he caressed my ass, he could smell my desire.

But when he flopped me down on the bed and started to undress me, I knew this was what I’d been waiting for.

“Wait, wait,” I protested, but he was focused.

“No waiting.” He began to unbutton my blouse. “I’m a desperate male, wife.”

His intensity made me laugh, and once I began I couldn’t stop. “Yes, fine, okay,” I managed, swatting his hands out of the way so I could tackle the delicate buttons myself. “I’m getting desperate too.”

Tarkhan froze. “You are?”

My silk blouse slid from my shoulders, and I reached around my back to unhook my bra as I eyed the erection he was sporting through his jeans. “I most definitely am. Take off your clothes, Tarkhan.”

I watched him debating with himself. Then, as if his decision was made for him, he wrenched his gaze away from my body with a groan and began to strip down even faster than I was .

But when he joined me in the bed, he was still wearing his boxers.

“Come here,” he growled, reaching for me, and I clamped my hands around his wrists and rolled toward him.

Instead of letting him kiss me though, I propped myself up over him. “I don’t think you’re being fair,” I announced as I ran my hands over his torso. “For weeks, you’ve been making me come, and I haven’t even been allowed to see all of you?”

When my hand slid toward the waistband of his boxers, Tarkhan’s fingers clasped mine, halting my movements. The smile on his lips was clearly meant to be charming, but didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on, honey, what’s it matter? You don’t need to see my cock to have a good time, right?”

Hmm. Was there something wrong with it? Was he ashamed of how he looked? I chewed on my lip, trying to remember what he’d told me that day in the barn. Hadn’t he been chased from his home by some kind of shame?

“Fine,” I said, wriggling my hand free. “I don’t need to see it. But I still want to touch you.”