He thrusts up as I sink down. Inch by inch, he fills me. Stretch burns sweet, then turns to bliss.
We rock together. His hands grip my hips, guiding the rhythm. Fierce, fast.
"Yes," I moan. My nails dig into his shoulders.
His mouth finds my neck. Teeth graze skin, not breaking, just marking. "Mine." The word vibrates against my pulse.
"Yours." I ride harder. Pressure builds, coiling tight.
He flips us sudden. Blanket rough under my back. He looms over me, powerful and protective.
Thrusts deepen. Each one hits that spot inside, sparking stars.
I arch up, meeting him. Our bodies slap together, slick and urgent.
Sweat beads on his brow. I lick it off, tasting salt and him.
"Look at me." His eyes lock on mine, soft despite the ferocity.
I do. See love there, raw and real. "I love you."
"Love you." He punctuates with a deep grind.
Climax crashes. I shatter around him, walls clenching. Waves of pleasure pulse.
He follows, spilling hot inside me. Groan rumbles from his chest.
We collapse, breathing hard. His weight pins me, safe and solid.
After, he rolls to the side, pulling me against him. Stars wheel overhead.
"We'll be visible now." His fingers trace my arm. "No more hiding."
"Together." I nestle closer. "In public, in private. All of it."
The city hums below, alive with possibility.
11
STONE
Iwake to the buzz of my phone rattling the nightstand, Lacy's breath warm against my neck where she's burrowed in sleep. The screen glows harsh in the predawn dark, showing seventeen missed calls, forty-three notifications, all screaming that the ceasefire is over.
The clip loads, and I recognize it instantly. It’s the fundraiser footage from weeks ago—the one we thought we’d buried with our testimony. But this is different. It’s a new edit, spliced with ominous music and a voiceover questioning the council’s recent decision to postpone the vote.
The caption reads: "The Truth They Ignored at the Hearing: Unchecked Orc Aggression."
My stomach drops like I've swallowed stones. Blair isn't accepting the stalemate; she’s launching a counter-offensive.
It’s already trending locally. Sponsored. Boosted. Someone paid a lot of money to make sure this appeared on every timeline in the city this morning. Someone’s looped just the worst three seconds, my tusks prominent, my fist raised in what was actually just an emphatic gesture but now looks like a threat.
"Stone?" Lacy stirs, her hand finding my chest, fingers splayed over my heart that's hammering too fast. "What's wrong? Is it the council?"
"It's Blair's donors fighting back." I show her the screen.
She goes rigid, sitting up so fast the blanket pools at her waist, her face pale in the phone's glow. She watches the new edit, her eyes narrowing. "They spliced in a different reaction shot. That woman wasn't even near you. This is a hit piece."
"Doesn't matter if it's fake." My voice comes out flat, defeated in a way I hate. "It's loud. And it’s undoing everything we said at the hearing."
