Yes. That would work. The orc would be grim and huge, the leader of the rebellion against the Witch King’s cruelty and avarice. Her female character would be a witch, her magic wild and dangerous, and utterly forbidden—only human men would be allowed magic. Not women. And not orcs. The witch and the orc, thrown into the dungeons to die, would meet by chance. And their first contact would beprimal, their mating tattoos flaring to life as soon as their skin brushed.
Ellie grabbed a pen and started to write. The witch and the orc would hate and mistrust each other. But what if they had to flee the castle dungeons together? What if they had to travel, side by side, through dusty ravines crawling with the king’s neophytes and witchlings? Dangerous winged beasts would fill the air above. They would fight back-to-back. Sleep in caves. The orc would be powerful, dangerous, and sexy as all hell. The witch would be smart and sarcastic and just as lethal. Together, they would be explosive.
Damn. It was a pity there was no way to write this story into the game they were working on. But… maybe it was worth a whole new world. A new game. A world full of betrayal and lies and sexy orcs.
She chuckled to herself as she scrawled ideas onto the pad she kept on her desk. Just one cave. Just one bedroll. Sniping and banter as sharp as the swords and spells. And passion. So much passion.
Strong-Hold.That would be the name. Damn. She loved it already.
But it was late, and she should have gone to bed already, so she packed away her pen and stuck her notes to her whiteboard. Nissy had been asleep in her cave for some time already, and she didn’t stir as Ellie turned off the lights.
She made her way upstairs to her bedroom with her mind spinning. Glittering pictures and enticing storylines wove together to form the beginnings of a new world.
It was like coming back to life. Or the sun coming up after a long night. She’d driven beyond her road. She’d taken herself to the sea and walked on the sand. She’d felt the cold, salty water lapping against her toes. And now she was imagining again. Creating again. Seeing possibility in the world again. Seeing something more than work and survival.
Heat danced over her skin with the flush of excitement, and she longed to feel more of the cool night air drifting in through her open window. She dragged her T-shirt over her head, then slid her leggings off, dropping everything to the floor.
There was something empowering about standing naked and unashamed. Ellie moved to the massive mirror that leaned against the back wall. She’d rested it there, loving the idea of lying in bed, able to see the sky whichever way she turned—whether through the window or in the mirror’s wide reflection—and maybe she’d imagined sexier uses too. Uses for times like this, when she was wide awake and burning with ideas and stories.
She stood in front of her mirror, watching as her nipples pebbled in the teasing breeze, and she lifted her hands to cupher breasts, thumbs slowly circling the aching tips.Shewas the witch, magical and fierce.
Her orc rebel would stand behind her, his scarred hands drifting up her sides, over the curve of her hips, skimming her ribs. The tips of his claws would pinch her nipples, tugging them. His fangs would be sharp and lethal at her throat, scraping gently.
Her heated flush spread and deepened as her fingers followed the path of the orc’s big hands, down her abdomen, over the bones of her pelvis. She let the fantasy fill her. Rough hands on her skin, teeth on her shoulder, eyes meeting hers in the mirror, blue and intense.
Only now the orc had faded, and the eyes belonged to Josh.Hishands petted her skin.Histongue laved her neck.
She slid her fingers over the soft curve of her stomach, letting one hand drift down, slide through the tight curls, farther. Her breathing grew shallow as she found the heated flesh and pressed a finger against the swelling nub of her clitoris before dipping lower, stroking deeper, gathering wetness.
She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, remembering Josh’s kisses. The glide of his tongue. The way he growled. His hard cock pressing against her, heavy and thick and not nearly close enough.
Her pulse thudded in her ears, her body tingling and aching. But she needed more. She reached for the vibrator in her drawer and dropped it on the bed with a bottle of lube.
And then the air changed.
Pressure grew. A tang of ozone and electricity raised the hairs along her arms, and she knew he was back. He was in her house.
“Josh?” Her voice was husky and full of need.
“I’m here,” he rumbled from the corridor just outside her bedroom.
She had a second to decide what to do. Whether to fling on a gown or throw herself under her covers. And maybe she should. Maybe she should protect herself from so much uncertainty. From a situation she had no control over, but which she was so thoroughly invested in. From the knowledge that she thought about him—wanted him, needed him—constantly. While he clearly wanted none of that.
But she did neither. She knew he would walk away if she told him to. And she knew she wasn’t going to.
She was coming back to life and taking charge of her own pleasure. She turned to face the doorway, straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and waited for him.
He came around the corner and stilled. His eyes tracked slowly over her curves, taking in her peaked nipples and flushed skin.
“Ellie?” His voice was gruff.
Her eyes flicked to the toy abandoned on the covers before returning to his, and she saw the moment he recognized what she’d planned. Recognized it, and was ensnared.
He stepped through her doorway, making his way across the floor, each step intentional. Confident. Drawing closer and closer as the air between them thickened.
His eyes stayed locked on hers, intense and focused as she’d known they would be. “Is there room for me?” he asked, hands lifted, ready but not yet touching.
“Yes,” she admitted. She kept her gaze steady on his. “I was thinking of you.”
