I shivered, my grip on him tightening as his fingers slid around toward my ass, brushing the line of my panties. No one called meJoss. Of course, no one called meKitten, either…
“Yes,” I managed, then swallowed. “I do want that. When we chatted, you seemed very clear whatyouwanted.”
“Mutual pleasure.” His fingers found my underwear, sliding beneath, his fingertip dipping along the curve ofmy ass cheek toward the dark recess behind… “I’m very, very good at that, you know.”
Cocky. I felt my lips curve. “You mentioned you’d done this plenty of times, with plenty of women?”
“Hunt.” His lips found my skin. “Catch.” His fingers finally—finally—slid down to my cleft, tips pressing into my wetness from behind. “Fuck.”
I found myself pressing up on my toes, allowing his fingers better access to my dripping pussy. “Hunt?—”
“Catch. Fuck,” he finished calmly, one thick finger sliding deeper into my core. “That’s the orc way. The way my ancestors did things, the way I do things.”
It was positively primitive. Primal. Feral.
It was, at that moment—standing in a strange hotel room with a stranger’s thick finger in my pussy—one of the sexiest things I’d ever heard.
“Well,” I managed breathlessly, pulling on his shirt until he lowered his mouth toward mine. “You’ve already hunted me, thanks to the app.”
His lips curled as he tipped his head, scraping one tusk along my jaw even as he plunged deeper with his callused finger. “And I’ve most definitely caught you, Kitten.”
“Seems to me…” I turned my head until our lips were a breath apart. “Now comes the fucking.”
With a growl, his lips claimed mine.
That first kiss in the bar had been a revelation—hot and demanding, his mouth claiming mine with a confidencethat had melted my knees. But this? This was different. This wasmore.
Brakkor’s tongue was wide and ridged, nothing like a human’s. When it swept into my mouth, it filled me, stretching my lips in a way that reminded me his finger was still fucking my pussy.
I moaned into him, my fingers curling into the front of his shirt, and he growled in response, the vibration humming through my chest.
His free hand was everywhere—tangled in my hair, tilting my head just so, or gripping my hip just hard enough. I realized I loved the way he was taking control, allowing me to follow along, near breathless with desire. This was nothing like sex with Chad, whose half-hearted caresses had taught me my pleasure hadn’t really mattered.
This? This wasraw.It was real.
And I wanted more.
When he finally pulled back, his dark eyes burned into mine, his breath ragged. “Fuck, Kitten,” he rasped, his thumb brushing my swollen lower lip. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
I should’ve been embarrassed. I should’ve beenmortifiedby how eagerly I’d kissed him back, how my body was already throbbing with need. But I wasn’t. Because this was just for tonight. Because I didn’t have to see him after this. Because for the first time in my life, I could beexactlywhat I wanted to be: uninhibited, greedy…free.
He gently pulled his hand from my wetness, but didn’t lower my skirt to cover that skin, so my ass was exposedto the room. I told myself it was silly to feel embarrassed by that, not with how he’d been stroking me.
Brakkor’s fingers found the straps of my dress, sliding them down my arms with excruciating slowness. The cool air hit my skin, raising goosebumps, but his touch was hot, searing. He didn’t rush, he…worshipped.
“Godsdamn,” he murmured as the fabric pooled at my waist, leaving me in nothing but my lace bra. His gaze dropped to my chest, his eyes going even darker. “Look at you.”
I bit my lip, suddenly self-conscious. My breasts were big—too big, according to Chad, who had made it clear I needed to lose weight—but Brakkor didn’t seem to mind. His hands cupped them reverently, his thumbs brushing over the lace covering my nipples. I gasped as pleasure shot through me, my back arching into his touch.
“So fucking perfect,” he growled, his voice rough. “I’ve been dreaming about these tits since you sent me those photos.”
His mouth followed his hands as he bent, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the swell of my breasts, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin. When he finally pulled the lace aside and took my nipple into his mouth, I cried out, my fingers tangling in his hair. His tongue—God, his tongue!—was made for this. The ridges dragged against the sensitive peak, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me, and when he sucked, I whimpered, my thighs pressing together.
“That’s it, Kitten,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot. “Let me hear you.”
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his free hand sliding down to grip my hip, his fingers inching beneath the waistband of my dress. I was dripping with need, my panties soaked through, and when his fingers found the edge of them, I shuddered.
“Brakkor—”
