Page 6 of Saved By the Mountain Man Orc (The Men of Orc Mountain #1)

Drak

She tastes sweeter than honey.

Soft lips, sharp little breaths, fingers tangled in my hair like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go. Gods, I'm hanging onto control by a thread.

But she doesn't pull away. She clutches me closer, arching up into my touch like she wants to crawl under my skin and stay there.

She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I kneel beside the bed, my body trembling with the effort of restraint. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to claim, to mark, to take. To make her understand that she's mine . But she's human. Fragile. And this is her choice to make.

"You can still tell me to stop," I rasp, voice barely recognizable.

She shakes her head, hazel eyes bright with desire. "I don't want you to."

That's all the permission I need.

My mouth finds hers again—urgent this time, desperate. Her hands roam across my shoulders and down my back, fingers tracing scars and muscle with wonder rather than fear. When my tusks graze her throat, she shivers and tilts her head to give me better access.

I want to devour her.

But I want to worship her more.

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from my kisses, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I need to see you," I say, my voice rough.

She nods, breathless. "I want you to see me.”

Her voice is like music. Soft and sure and completely trusting.

I reach for the hem of her thermal shirt, pausing for just a heartbeat to give her one last chance to change her mind. When she lifts her arms to help, something tight in my chest loosens.

The shirt comes away easily, and then her bra, revealing soft curves and skin like cream. She's perfect . All woman, all mine, bathed in firelight like something from a dream.

My hands shake as I trace the line of her collarbone, the curve of her breast, the soft skin of her belly. She shivers under my touch, but not from cold. From anticipation.

"You're beautiful," I murmur, lowering my head to press kisses to her throat. "Perfect."

She gasps when I take her nipple into my mouth, back arching off the furs. Her fingers tighten in my hair, holding me against her as I lavish attention on the sensitive peak.

"Drak," she breathes, and hearing my name on her lips like that—like a prayer, like a plea—nearly undoes me completely.

I trail kisses down her body, taking my time with every inch of exposed skin. When I reach the waistband of her hiking pants, I look up at her through my lashes.

"Yes," she says before I can ask. "Please."

I strip away the rest of her clothes with reverent care, revealing long legs and the soft curls between her thighs. The scent of her arousal hits me like a punch in the stomach, and I have to close my eyes and breathe deeply to keep from losing control entirely.

When I look at her again, she's watching me with half-lidded eyes, lower lip caught between her teeth.

"Touch me," she whispers.

I slide my hand up her thigh, fingers ghosting over sensitive skin until I reach the heat of her. She's already wet, already ready, and when I stroke her gently she moans and tilts her hips toward my touch.

"You want this," I growl, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves at her apex. "You want me."

"Yes," she gasps, hips bucking against my hand. "God, yes. I want you."

I work her slowly, carefully, building her pleasure with patient strokes until she's trembling beneath me. Her breathing comes in short pants, and little sounds of need escape her lips.

"Please," she whispers, and I can hear the desperation in her voice. "I need you."

I rise from the bed long enough to shed what's left of my clothes, and her eyes widen as she takes in my full size. My cock is hard and heavy, already dripping at the tip.

"I'll go slow," I promise, settling between her legs. "I'll take care of you."

She nods, reaching up to cup my face in her hands. "I trust you."

Those three words hit me harder than any blow.

I position myself at her entrance, feeling the slick heat of her against my skin. When I press forward—just the head, just enough to make her gasp—her body opens for me like it was made for this. Made for me.

"Breathe," I murmur, holding perfectly still. "I've got you."

I ease deeper, inch by careful inch, watching her face for any sign of pain. Her eyes flutter closed, lips parting on a soft moan as her body stretches to accommodate me.

"So big," she breathes. "So deep."

"You were made for me," I growl, sliding deeper still. "Your body knows mine."

When I'm finally seated fully inside her, we both go still. She's tight and hot and perfect around me, and every instinct I have is screaming to move, to claim, to make her understand what she means to me.

But I wait. Let her adjust. Let us both savor this moment of perfect connection.

Then she shifts her hips, and I see stars.

I start to move—slow, careful strokes that make her arch beneath me. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my ass as she meets each thrust.

"Harder," she gasps. "I won't break."

I don't need to be told twice.

I lift one of her legs over my shoulder, changing the angle, and she cries out as I hit the spot deep inside her that makes her whole body tremble.

"Right there," she moans. "Oh god, right there."

I drive into her again and again, feeling her tighten around me with each thrust. Her cries fill the cabin. Sweet, desperate sounds that echo off the log walls.

"I'm close," she pants, nails digging into my shoulders.

I reach between us, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves again and rubbing in tight circles. Her whole body goes rigid beneath me.

"Let go," I command. "Come for me."

She breaks apart with a scream that's half my name, half wordless pleasure. Her body clenches around me like a vice, drawing my own release from me with irresistible force.

I thrust once, twice more, then bury myself to the hilt as I spill inside her, roaring her name to the rafters.

For a long moment, we just hold each other. Her head is tucked against my neck, her breath warm on my skin. I can feel something fundamental shifting between us—bonds forming that go deeper than flesh.

This is what the elders meant when they spoke of Thurok'hai . Not just desire, but recognition. Two souls finding their other half.

But I need to know if she feels it, too.

"I'll take you to the ridge tomorrow," I murmur into her hair.

She lifts her head, blinking up at me with eyes still hazy from pleasure. "But you don't want to."

"No."

She traces a pattern on my chest with one finger. "I don't want you to either."

Relief floods through me so sudden and complete it's almost painful.

"Then stay," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'll build you anything you need. Show you the mountain. Keep you safe."

She smiles, soft and sleepy and completely content. "You already have."