Page 4 of Susie’s Orc (Monster Relations Bureau)

Susie

Inside my apartment, I toss my bag haphazardly into my bedroom, then go into speed-run cleaning mode.

It’s not a total disaster in here, but my heart’s still racing as I pick up a scattering of laundry, the empty tea and coffee mugs that seem to multiply all on their own on the coffee table and side tables, and the stack of unopened mail that I quickly stash away in a drawer.

My eyes scan the room, looking for anything else I can tidy, but before I can do any more last-minute prep, a knock at the door announces Jonah is here.

I quickly cross the room to open it, and oh boy, is he here.

The office has tall ceilings, lots of windows, and an open floor plan, but seeing him standing in the normal-height hallway just outside my apartment door is another thing entirely.

My heart races with the reminder of just how spectacularly big and broad he is, how unbelievable it is he’s here—actually here , in my apartment.

“You found it alright?” I ask, swallowing around a wave of nerves and stepping aside so he can come in.

“Yeah,” he says, looking around the place. “It must be nice, living this close to work.”

“Uh, yeah. It has been.”

God, I’m terrible at small talk.

Or maybe I’m not.

Maybe I just can’t remember how to make it when I’ve got a coworker-slash-hookup standing in my apartment looking so handsome and touchable.

I close the door behind us, painfully aware of how lacking my apartment is.

Hand-me-down couch, IKEA bookcase, half-dead potted fern in the window. I’m twenty-seven, and my place looks like it belongs to a college kid. Which, alright, I’m acting with the approximate maturity level and impulse control of a college kid right now, so maybe I shouldn’t judge myself so harshly.

Stepping around Jonah and toward the living room—which is also connected to the kitchen and dining space and is usually pretty roomy, but feels awfully small right now—I internally agonize over my next move.

Do I take him to my bedroom? Hop up on the kitchen counter? Drop to my knees right in front of him?

Living room seems like the best middle ground, and I continue on into that space before turning around to face him.

Oh, god. What do I do with my hands? What do I say? Should I kiss him? Start stripping?

Wordlessly, Jonah takes off his jacket, lays it on the back of one of my dining chairs, and strides toward me with a slight smirk on his face and unmistakable intent burning in his hazel eyes.

We’re really doing this.

I expect awkwardness. I expect a little fumbling, maybe some painful conversation about what we’re going to do and how we’re going to do it. I expect doubt and weirdness, and part of me still thinks we should just call this whole thing off.

I’ve never done this. I’ve never felt this… this… crazed. It’s an out-of-body experience, and I’m expecting it to come to a crashing end at any moment.

What I don’t expect?

I don’t expect Jonah to reach right out and cup my pussy over my black work slacks. I don’t expect him to lean in close and press his lips on the tender spot beneath my ear.

“Is this what you were thinking about in that meeting?”

I nod, grinding down a little onto his fingers. Even over my clothes, it feels incredible.

“Words, Susie. I want to hear your words.”

Holy shit. Jonah from Accounting is bossy. Bossy and stern and so fucking hot right now.

I also still really, really have to stop calling him ‘Jonah from Accounting.’ ‘Daddy,’ maybe, or ‘sir’ might be more fitting. I’m still thinking about it when he gives me an impatient little tap between my legs.

“Focus, Susie.”

“Yes!” I yelp when he pushes the heel of his palm against my clit over the fabric. “Yes, I was thinking about this.”

“I thought so,” he says, a delicious thread of certainty and smugness in his voice. “Take your pants off.”

I obey immediately, stripping my slacks down my legs and kicking them aside along with my socks.

I’m standing in only my panties and sweater in the middle of my living room.

The blinds are open, and anyone in the building across the street could look over and see. Fuck, part of me wishes they would.

My hands go to the waistband of my panties—purple cotton, bikini-cut, nothing special—and I’m just about to take those off too when Jonah stops me.

“No. Leave those. Come here.” He sits down on the couch and pats his thigh.

My mind scrambles, and then blanks out entirely. He wants me to sit on his lap ?

My legs decide for me as I wobble over to him and stop just short of bumping my knees to his.

Gripping my hips, he turns me around and tugs me down so I’ve got my back to his chest. He tucks his thick thighs between mine and pushes them wide, spreading me open.

His hands run up and down the inside of my thighs, stopping just short of brushing up against my pussy, and leaving little fires burning in their wake.

When I’m settled, he presses his lips to the side of my neck. The smooth slide of his tusks against my skin, the slightest prick of their pointed tips, makes me gasp.

“So pretty, Susie,” he murmurs, running his tusks lightly over me again. “Pretty little purple panties just waiting for me to take them off of you.”

The noise I make is nowhere near coherent when he snakes one hand down to rub against the fabric.

“Already so hot for me.” He leans forward over my shoulder to watch himself stroke me.

I can’t believe this is happening.

Full stop.

My mind struggles to keep up and my body won’t stop squirming against him, trying to make sense of all the new sensations. He’s so warm , so big, and every time he speaks, the deep rumble of his voice vibrates all the way through me.

“On or off?” he asks, playing with the hem of my sweater.

“Off,” I tell him breathlessly. “Bra too. Please.”

He obliges, and the noise he makes in the back of his throat when my tits are out for his appraisal echoes straight down between my thighs.

“Fuck, Susie. This is what you’ve been hiding under all those sweaters you wear?”

I do wear a lot of sweaters. Even in the summer. I don’t have a lot of extra padding on my slim, almost curveless frame, and I always seem to be chilly. He noticed?

“When were you looking at my sweaters?”

“Every godsdamn day.”

Jonah reaches up to caress my breasts. He kneads slowly, plucks at my nipples, rolls them between his fingers and I arch into the slight zing of pleasure-pain.

With one hand still at my breasts, he snakes the other back down to work me over my panties.

Pulling the fabric taut between two of his fingers, he rubs a third over and over my clit.

The pressure is incredible, the steady, commanding touch so damn delicious as he rumbles his approval into the side of my neck when I cant my hips to chase the sensation.

“Good, Susie. So good. Just like that.”

His fingers press down more firmly. He sucks at the side of my throat, and a desperate gasp rips out of me. My core tightens into a heavy, insistent twist of pleasure, striking fast and hard.

I’m sure he thinks he’s just teasing, but with as tightly wound as I already am, it’s enough to have me racing toward a climax.

It’s too much.

He’s too much.

Jonah, who sees me in my sweaters and wonders what’s under them.

Jonah, who I’ve been crushing on for years.

Jonah with the big, rough hands and the unexpected bossy streak who’s here, playing with me, whispering filthy praise and encouragement against my skin.

He’s barely touched me, and I’m nearly ready to combust.

I do just that a few seconds later.

My back arches, and a stifled scream rips from my throat as my climax breaks over me. Jonah holds me all the way through my tremors until my muscles go lax.

“Fuck,” Jonah curses. “Fuck, that was hot. You came just from that?”

I can only give him a shaky nod as his hand keeps moving, stroking me down through the last of it. My head rolls back, resting against his shoulder, and when I take a deep inhale, my nose is filled with the scent of him.

Jonah smells like the outdoors. Like cedar and pine and fresh clean air. I don’t know if that’s an orc thing, or if he’s got some kind of incredibly appealing cologne, but damn do I want to bottle it up and keep it close by so I can take a whiff whenever I want to.

No. I absolutely did not just think that.

“Do you want another?” he asks, still stroking me lightly. “Do you want to come again, Susie?”

I should probably return the favor first, touch him, make him feel as good as he’s just made me, but I’m still pleasure-drunk and hungry for more.

“Do you want these fingers inside of you?”

Well, damn. This orc really knows how to win a girl over.

“Yes,” I say, breathless, needy.

“Good,” Jonah says, fingers sliding under the waistband of my panties. “Off with these, then.”

Before I have a chance to stand up and take them off myself, Jonah lifts me with one muscular arm and uses his other hand to tug them down my thighs. It happens so fast, and feeling him move me with no apparent effort whatsoever leaves me even more breathless.

He settles me back into the same position, spreading me even wider this time. Instead of touching me right away, though, he leans forward over my shoulder and stares down at me for a few long seconds.

My cheeks burn hotter and hotter the longer he stares.

Spread open like this, I’m completely bared for him, no shame or coyness or secrets, and he’s silent long enough that I’m almost convinced he doesn’t like what he sees.

I’m about to shift off of him, snap my legs shut, when he lets out a long, ragged breath.

“You’re beautiful. Just perfect.” Jonah draws the broad tip of one finger all the way up my slit, spreading the damp heat he finds there. “Fuck, Susie. You’re so wet. Is that all for me?”

“Yes,” I moan. “All for you.”