Page 6 of Orn and the Real Girl

SARA

MY DREAMS were full of hopeless searching, but when I woke up I felt refreshed anyway.

The smell of ham and eggs cooking filled the air, and my stomach gave a mighty heave and a roar, the bread and cheese from last night utterly spent.

I was so focused on the delicious smells and the comfortable nest I found myself in that it took a moment for memory to trickle in and remind me where I was.

I remembered Orn.

I was in an orc’s cottage, imposing on his kindness and hospitality, because.

.. Tears burned at the backs of my eyes, threatening to spill, so I stuffed those memories down to pick over later, because I didn’t have time to break down.

My coven needed me. I had to focus on getting back on my feet and figuring out my next steps, on finding them and rescuing them before it was too late. If it wasn’t already—

No. No. Bad, Sara. Stay away from these sorts of thoughts.

I frowned and sat up, rubbing a heavy crust from my eyes and the side of my mouth—sweet Delenaa, had I been drooling in my sleep?

—and smiled at the sight of Orn hunched over his breakfast at the nearby table.

It wasn’t much lighter inside his cabin now that it was daytime, but it was bright enough that I could see just how handsome my host was.

The tusks had thrown me off at first, but the lips that surrounded them were well-formed and plush, and now that I’d been looking at him awhile, those tusks didn’t stick out to me any more than anything else about him did.

His features were bold, but they were balanced well, and the warmth in his dark eyes held me like a snare, tempting me to get closer, to sink into those eyes and let myself swim.

Oh fuck, I’m staring.

He swallowed heavily when he noticed me studying him and grinning like a lunatic, but then he smiled back, his deep green lips stretched thin over his tusks.

The smile was a little panicked, a little hesitant, like he was afraid of me and what I might do—and really, could I blame him?

But then it occurred to me, with a surge of panic, that he might look nervous because he’d figured out that I was a witch.

Could orcs sense magic? Could he smell the witchcraft clinging to my skin like firesmoke?

As quickly as the wave of fear rose, it crashed back into the surf.

No, that wasn’t what I sensed from him. I wasn’t as good at tasting the emotions of others as Brekka, but I was good enough to tell that there was no disgust or ill-will here.

I borrowed power from Lena, sipping at the well of her animal aether to better suss out what it was I was getting from Orn.

There was anxiety, self-consciousness, a protectiveness that made me melt, and—

Oh. Oh my.

I found desire lurking under it all, so intense and desperate it almost took my breath away. How was he hiding it so well? Just feeling it secondhand had me reeling, but without my magic I would never have known, he was so composed.

“Sleep well?” he asked, his voice breaking, making him flush, and in a flash I realized that there was an answering throb of want in me.

I should have been too distracted and heartbroken to even notice Orn, let alone want him like this, but as soon as I gave that feeling attention it swelled and bubbled to the surface.

I nodded. “Very well!” I chirped, stretching and luxuriating in how his dark eyes tracked my movements.

I couldn’t seem to stop myself from preening, Lena “helping” by draping herself around my throat like a necklace, drawing the eye to my ample bosom, tragically hidden under the layers of baggy clothes I was borrowing.

My stomach gave a loud gurgle, and I snapped out of my horny daydreaming and remembered that I had other needs that required attention beyond the ache that had started up between my legs.

“What smells so good?” I asked, my voice breathy.

Orn scrambled to his feet, the huge orc making me a plate heaped high with food in the blink of an eye and holding it out to me. “Breakfast,” he rumbled, letting me take the heavy plate—more a platter, really, in my much smaller hands—and then handing me a napkin and a spoon to eat with.

“Did you make all this for me?” I asked, incredulous, knowing I’d never be able to eat even a fraction of what he’d just given me. I’d never had a man feed me before, not like this, and somehow that only made me feel even more hot and bothered about him.

Naughty mama, Lena added, humor woven through her words.

“Uh...no?” His deep voice cracked again and he cleared his throat. “No, I made it for both of us. Is that enough?” He stood again, going to his cupboards and digging through them. “I can make more. I have a few potatoes for hash, and some more bread—“

I laughed, almost dropping my plate into my lap. “Gods, no, please don’t cook any more!” He froze, staring at me as I laughed. “If I even finish this it’ll be a miracle!”

He grinned sheepishly, biting his lip, and I finally managed to settle down and sober up a little.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all that you’ve done, Orn,” I told him, wishing I were better with words.

“You saved my life last night. And you’ve been so kind and generous without knowing me at all.

” I didn’t say it, but he was nothing like how I’d always imagined orcs.

The picture painted in my head was gruffer, more blunt and rude and bawdy, but Orn was just..

.sweet. Gentle. Something in me wanted to protect him, for all that he was close to seven feet tall and must have weighed over two hundred pounds, most of it rippling muscle.

He shrugged, blushing harder. “It was nothing,” he insisted, retaking his seat and poking at his food. “Anyone would have done it.”

But he was wrong; most people wouldn’t have.

They’d have given me water and a crust of bread, perhaps, and maybe let me shelter in their barn, but Orn had given me clothes, and home-cooked food, and his own bed.

I eyed his aerlanis, up and chewing on something in a corner, and I was swept up in how kind of a heart wouldn’t even let his barn animal wait out a storm in the barn.

I swallowed hard, a lump in my throat, as I considered just how much the gods had smiled on me to lead me here last night.

I was struck by a mad urge to get up and subject Orn to a big hug. To throw my arms around his thick neck and squeeze him until my arms gave out, just because he was so damned good. But he was already tense just from my thanks, so I tamped that down and contented myself with digging into the food.

Flavor like I’d never encountered before burst on my tongue with my first bite of egg, and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning like a shameless wanton at how incredible it was.

“What did you do to these eggs?” I cried, quickly shoveling in more.

“These are the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten! ”

Orn looked pleased and panicked at the same time, biting his lip again in an adorable gesture I was coming to love, despite how odd it looked with his tusks. “It’s just more orcish spice. You liked the tea last night, so I thought you might enjoy it.”

I nodded enthusiastically, my mouth too full to speak for long minutes.

“Damn right, I do,” I told him. I gave him a sly look, licking salt and butter and spice from my lips as I held eye contact.

“You better watch yourself, Orn; I might just have to tie you up and take you hostage so you keep making this good food for me.” I liked to eat, but more than that, I liked Orn, and there was a part of me, the part not still ragged and aching from my recent loss, that really really liked Orn.

It felt like a betrayal, to want something base and carnal when my coven—my family—had been torn away from me so recently, but the desire was there, and it was making itself known.

I eyed Orn, imagining what such big, gentle hands would feel like rasping over my skin.

He had claws, though they weren’t overlong, and I couldn’t help but imagine them scraping into my flesh, dragging against my scalp.

And then I was picturing darker, more explicit things.

I stopped eating, my mind locking up imagining how Orn would make love to me.

Would he be painfully gentle, treating me like delicate glass?

Would he see to my pleasure before his own?

Something told me yes, he would, and he’d push my body to its limits to do it.

He’d make me scream and shudder and seep with orgasm after orgasm.

And I thought, my heart stuttering and heat flooding my throbbing sex, that if I asked him nicely to fuck me hard and rough, that he’d do that, too.

I squirmed in my seat, throwing off blankets that had gotten too hot and rough against my sensitive flesh, the wetness between my thighs both winding me up and disturbing me at the same time.

What was wrong with me, that I was so ready to lech on the kind stranger who’d helped me in my hour of need?

He was probably not even truly interested in me; I was no orcish woman, known for their zest and vigor and power in bedsport.

I was soft, plush, and while I knew I was beautiful, who was to say that an orc would see the same beauty?

I busied myself with eating, doing my best to banish my heated thoughts and focus on the here and now.

I raised my gaze from my plate, unable to resist glancing at Orn, and to my surprise, he was staring at me, an expression on his flushed face like amazement.

His hands were clamped tight on the edge of his table, claws digging into the wood, veins and tendons standing out stark against his warm green skin everywhere I could see.

I was alarmed, my plate lowering to my lap.

“Orn? Are you alright?” I asked, cold dread winding into my stomach and souring my meal.

He pushed back from the table and strode to the door in a rush, his frame tense and his back kept carefully to me.

“I’ve just realized I need more wood for the fire!

” he called over his shoulder, throwing a coat, scarf, boots, and a pair of gloves on at the door.

“I’ll be a little while, so go ahead and finish eating and then feel free to poke about!

” His voice was tight and ragged, and he cleared his throat a little before speaking again.

He turned towards me a little more, enough that I could see his face in profile.

“Lock the door behind me and don’t open it for anyone, Sara.

You’ll know it’s me because I’ll knock like this—“ he rapped on the wall, a short, quick rhythm: dundundunDUN, dundundunDUN.

“O...kay...” I said slowly, concerned and confused at the sudden shift in his demeanor. “If I did something to offend you, I’m truly sorry, Orn. I was just kidding about the kidnapping, I hope you know—“

“Of course! I’m fine, you’ve nothing to worry about!

” he called with false levity, throwing open his heavy door and stepping out into the howling wind and snow.

“Remember, lock the door!” he threw over his shoulder as he shut the door, leaving me alone and blinking at the solid wood planks.

What in the names of the gods was that? I thought, setting my unfinished plate onto the stool by the bed and stroking Lena’s sweet little snub nose.

I got up and did as Orn had said, setting the lock on the big door.

Strange man, Lena thought at me, and I nodded. Chin now please, she added after a moment. I obliged with a grin, switching to scratching her chin and throat, her thoughts becoming a constant stream of contentment and further instructions for me on where to tickle and scratch.

I did my best to clean up breakfast, putting the uneaten food into the small icebox and bringing the dishes to the sink.

I couldn’t get the water to work, though, so I was forced to leave them there.

I combed out my hair with my fingers, wincing at the endless knots in my long curls, then found a small lavatory and took care of my overfull bladder and my morning breath.

The water in here, at least, seemed to work, so I also found a rag and cleaned my skin, keeping my clothes on to ward off the chill.

It was much colder here, away from the fire, and the cold water didn’t help anything.

Once I was freshened up, I wandered around the small, cozy cabin, admiring Orn’s few possessions and looking for something to do while I waited for him to come back from fetching more wood.

I felt guilty, like I was the reason he had to go out there, and with a stab of dismay I realized that I probably was—he’d had to build up the fire higher to take care of me, and used up more of his firewood in the process.

I sighed, throwing myself back onto the bed.

There was an unexpected crinkle when my body met the mattress, and I sat up, brow lowered in confusion.

I dug through the blankets until I found a sheaf of parchments, so well worn that my lying on them didn’t seem to have caused any additional wrinkling.

The pages were filled with cramped, spidery Common, and after a sentence or two, I realized I was reading a story—a very explicit story

Corella’s creamy skin glowed pink from her exertions, her small, pointed breasts swaying and shivering with the force of the orc’s hips slamming into her own. She mewled, small hands clawing into his arms and chest as the much larger orc captain pounded into her tight, wet slit.

Well, there goes the last of my self-control, I thought, my blood burning and humming in my veins.

I kept reading, my arousal heating into a wild blaze.

It felt wrong, to read something that was clearly private.

And there was the distinct possibility that Orn had written this himself—but even if he hadn’t, the condition of it spoke to its being well-loved.

Bet that means I was right, my horny self purred at the back of my mind. Orn probably would fuck me senseless.

Something about that man had me thinking with my pussy, and I mused that perhaps my threat to tie him up and keep him might not have been so idle, after all.