"This is madness," I whisper against his lips, my breath mingling with the cool forest air.
Galthan's hands frame my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks with a tenderness that belies his warrior's hands. "Then let's be mad," he murmurs, and there's a raw edge to his voice that sends shivers down my spine.
Our kiss is a collision of hunger and hesitation, a clash of wills that surrenders to something far more powerful than either of us. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entry, and I part for him with a soft moan that seems to ignite something primal within him.
He moves between my legs with the grace of a predator, his body looming over mine as I lay back against the soft moss. The cool air of the night brushes against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.
"I'll be gentle," he promises, his words a low rumble that vibrates through me.
I nod, my hands fisting in the fabric of his tunic, tugging him closer. "So eager, my little goddess," he teases, the corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement.
His fingers deftly work at the laces of my dress, exposing me to the night air and his hungry gaze. I should feel vulnerable, but beneath his intense scrutiny, I feel worshipped—powerful, even.
As he reveals my body, inch by inch, his own breath hitches, and I see the desire that darkens his golden eyes to the hue of aged whiskey. My skin prickles with anticipation, every nerve ending alight with the promise of what's to come.
Galthan takes a moment to drink in the sight of me, his gaze lingering on the glowing vine sigil that marks me as chosen by the Harvest Goddess. It pulses in time with my racing heart, a beacon of the divine destiny that has entwined our fates.
He positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against me. I can't help the gasp that escapes my lips as he begins to press forward, stretching me in ways I've never imagined.
"Oh, Galthan," I breathe out, my eyes wide as I navigate the exquisite sting of his intrusion.
He stills, his entire body taut with restraint. "Are you alright?" The concern in his voice nearly undoes me.
I nod, swallowing hard as I adjust to the unfamiliar sensation of being filled so completely. "Don't stop," I plead, my fingers digging into the flesh of his arms.
With agonizing slowness, he resumes his movements, each thrust a careful dance of pleasure and pain. I feel myself opening up to him, blooming like a night-flower beneath the moon's caress.
"That's right. Take it, Thalia, feel the pleasure," he coaches, his voice a deep, resonant timbre that seems to resonate within my very bones.
My responses to him are instinctual, a primal language of moans and gasps that communicate my growing ecstasy better than words ever could. I meet his every thrust with an eager liftof my hips, our bodies moving in sync as if orchestrated by the goddess herself.
His laugh rumbles through my chest as my body starts to shudder uncontrollably. "Look at you," he growls, his hips driving harder, deeper, each thrust pushing a gasp from my lips. "My little human. Shaking apart just from my cock. Such a good girl. Taking it all."
Good girl.The words, so unexpected, so forbidden, ignite something molten deep inside me. A sob tears from my throat, not of pain, but of pure, terrifying release. Pleasure detonates, shattering every thought, every shred of control I ever possessed. My back arches off the moss, fingers scrabbling desperately against his broad shoulders, clinging as the world dissolves into white-hot sensation.
"Galthan!"
"Good, yes… good, Thalia," he praises again, his voice thick with desire and something else, something possessive and dark. He doesn't slow. His movements become even more urgent, brutal in their intensity. "That's it. Come for me. Show me how you take it."
The aftershocks are still rippling through me when he shifts, hooking a massive arm under my thigh, opening me impossibly wider. His rhythm becomes punishing, each powerful surge driving the breath from my lungs. Sweat drips from his brow onto my bare skin.
"Can't... hold back," he grunts, his tusks grazing my jawline. "Need you. Need to feel you. Need to fuck you deep. Breed you full." The vulgarity, the raw claiming in his words, sends a fresh jolt of heat through my spent body. My belly clenches tight around him.Breed me.
My hands fly over him, no longer just clinging, but mapping. The thick cords of his neck, the sharp angle of his jaw, the rough texture of his battle-scarred skin, the cool smoothness of thebone beads woven into his braids. My fingers trace the raised welt along his ribs where I stitched him – the beginning of this madness. I touch him like I'm starving, like I need to memorize every ridge, every scar, before this ends. Before I lose him. Before they tear us apart.
"Thalia," he breathes, a ragged whisper against my temple. "Thalia." My name on his lips isn't just a word; it's a prayer, a vow, a desperate plea tangled in his own need. "Thalia." Each time he says it, my heart thuds harder against my ribs.
Then he stiffens, a low, guttural roar tearing from his throat, primal and possessive, echoing through the silent trees. His entire body locks, muscles straining like carved stone, buried deep inside me. A flood of intense heat fills me, pulsing in time with his roar. It’s overwhelming, claiming, a physical declaration that ignites a tiny, fierce spark of something I’d forgotten how to feel: possessiveness.Mine.
He collapses onto me, his weight crushing yet anchoring, his breath hot and ragged against my neck. We cling to each other in the trembling aftermath, slick skin pressed to skin, the only sounds our harsh breathing and the distant hum of the festival still raging. His heart hammers against my chest, a frantic drumbeat mirroring my own. The scent of earth, sweat, sex, andhimfills my senses.
In the raw silence, shattered by his roar and sealed by his seed, the choice crystallizes, sharp and undeniable. Not to run. Not to hide. Not to beg for scraps of safety. Towant. To wanthim, this impossible, brutal, tender orc who looks at me like I am the world. Totakethis reckless, stolen moment, this terrifying connection that feels like destiny etched on my skin. Tostay.
The words pulse through me, quieter than his roar but infinitely more powerful, resonating with the golden heat of the sigil on my arm. I tighten my arms around his neck, burying my face against the damp skin of his throat.
I stay.
16
