“Good boy,” she gasped at him, as he kept going, as a sharp little spurt dashed up, caught across his heaving grey chest. “You’re so marvellous when you behave, love. When you show me how strong and rugged and virile you are, making me all this sweet, fresh Ash-Kai seed. Milking it out of your big, loaded bollocks, squeezing it up out your good fat Ash-Kai prick —”
And oh, hell, those bollocks were pulling up, his body arching, his groan rising to nearly a shout — and just in time, Geva snatched both his hands away. Leaving him gasping and straining beneath her touch, his dripping messy cock helplessly bobbing up again and again, but not spraying out, not yet…
“I said, not until Itellyou, Ash-Kai,” Geva hissed at him, even as she softly stroked his trembling thighs. “You would be a very devious orc indeed, if you were to blow that lovely load before I grant you leave. Now, will you be good again? Show me how well you can behave for your mistress?”
Rathgarr was fervently, frantically nodding, his tongue sweeping against his lips. “Ach,” he croaked. “Aught — that you wish. Always.”
Oh, hell. The rush of dark, dizzying hunger was so sharp that Geva felt faint, and she had to gulp for air, focus through her own fluttering lashes. “Good, Ash-Kai,” she breathed. “Very, very good. And perhaps, as your reward” — she reached up with shaky hands, and yanked off her shift over her head — “perhaps I will allow you to touch me. To cover yourself with my scent.”
Rathgarr’s groan was again long and harsh, his head nodding, his eyes wide and intent on her now-bare body — but he waited, shivering, until she’d lowered down his legs, and climbed up to straddle over his waist, purposefully ignoring that straining, leaking heft behind her. And when she grasped his big, sticky hand, and brought it to the slick, swollen place between her legs, he groaned again as he stroked it, very gently, as if he was almost afraid to touch her.
But Geva was smiling at him again, and then drawing his hand away, dragging his wet fingers up his own heaving chest. “Good,” she purred at him. “Just like that. Cover yourself in me, love. Make yourselfreekof me.”
And yes, yes, he was already doing it, moaning as he slipped his fingers in a little deeper against her, flaring out astonishing arcs of pleasure at the touch — and then away again, so he could swipe it up his chest, to his neck, even deep into his messy blackhair. And then again, and again, delving deeper against her each time, the sounds slick and wet and obscene. But oh, it was good, the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he was swiping his hand across his face, surreptitiously slipping a finger between his lips…
“Behave,” Geva gasped at him, and before she’d followed it, caught it, she was jerking down over him, so she could fill his disobedient mouth with her breast instead. Sinking her peaked brown nipple deep between his parted lips, and he instantly moaned and sucked, his big firm hands now on Geva’s arse, grinding her slick, open wetness hard against his bare abdomen. And damn, it was so good, so, so good, especially when she gently slapped his cheek, drew his blinking worshipful eyes — and then fed him the other side, watching it bulge out above his frantically sucking mouth.
And he kept grinding, rocking, kissing, covering himself with her fresh scent, and perhaps even dragging her further upwards. And gods, Geva couldn’t care anymore, couldn’t find the game anymore, just needed him so, so desperately it ached all over, and she willingly followed his hands, up, and up, and up. Until she was straddled over his face, his blinking eyes wide and reverent on the sight between her legs — and then he drew her downwards, and seated her on his mouth.
“Fuck!” Geva gasped, because oh, oh, she was spread wide open over him, her most secret parts pressed against hisface, and his groan was shuddering up inside her, together with his frantically licking tongue. Kissing her, lavishing her, gorging upon her, churning up the taut chattering craving into a furious, full-on frenzy, higher and higher, his body arching, the pleasure hitching, oh, oh —
“So good,” she was gasping, without thinking, the world whirling, whipping wild away. “So good, love, such a good, strong,wonderfulAsh-Kai, Rathgarr, please, more,please—”
The ecstasy shot up like a blow, like a light straight from his tongue into the very core of her, and she was shaking, shouting, perhaps even sobbing, as it surged again and again, swamping her in furious swells of raging, ricocheting pleasure. While beneath her, behind her, Rathgarr was curling up harder, his own shout muffled into her heat — and something hot spattered wide across her back, across her shoulders, even up into herhair. But his hands were here, and her hands were there, somehow sunk into his hair, and he’d done that without even being touched, oh gods, ohgods.
And when Geva’s shaky, shivering body finally seemed to return to itself, it was with her still sitting on an orc’s face, her hands tangled in his hair, while multiple warm rivulets trickled down her back, over her arse. And while her orc — her mate — blinked up at her with shimmering eyes, his breaths heaving hard, his face still flushed deep with red.
And suddenly Geva needed nothing more than to see him, to touch him, to hold him, please, and she scrabbled downwards, backwards. Until she was lying long atop his sticky, still-shuddering body, her hands clutched to his slick, reddened face, her eyes desperately searching his.
“Are you —” she began, but there weren’t even words, here, anywhere. “Was that —”
He was blinking back at her, drawing in great, gulping breaths — and suddenly his powerful arms were here, dragging her down, crushing her tightly into his hot, sticky chest. “Ach,” he rasped, on another hard, shaky breath. “Ach, my sweet. My clever, wicked,perfectAsh-Kai mate.”
Oh. All the last lingering tension in Geva’s body had seemed to collapse at once, sagging her deeper against his warm, stunning reassurance. “I… thank you, poppet,” he whispered, hoarse. “This was… very kind.”
There was a strange hitch in his voice at the end, and when Geva pulled up a little to look at him, he was swiftly glancing away, and biting his lip. Looking almost ashamed, suddenly, and Geva shook her head, and attempted to jab her trembling finger into his chest. “This was greedy, you mean,” she croaked back. “This was me blatantly using you, love, for my own selfish entertainment.”
His mouth twitched up, just a little, his eyes darting toward her, and away again. “But, I ken,” he said, his throat audibly swallowing, “this was not, mayhap, what you — should wish, from your strong orc mate. This may… alter how you think of me. Your… trust in me.”
What? Geva’s scoff was loud and disbelieving, but then she felt her head tilting, her eyes searching his face. Seeing the genuine unease in his eyes. The… fear.
“Of course not, Rathgarr,” she whispered. “Of all the secrets you’ve kept from me, this is absolutely not the one that would finally break my trust in you. This is” — she felt her mouth curving into a jaunty grin — “the fun one, love. The ultimate reward, for all my hard work.”
Rathgarr’s lips twitched a little higher, but his eyes were still uncertain, uneasy. “But… you did not even truly punish me,” he whispered. “Or make me suffer or beg. You said… kind things. Sweet things. Things you knew I… wished to hear.”
Oh. And searching his eyes, it occurred to Geva that maybe — maybe he’d expected her to take the opportunity to retaliate, to gain her revenge upon him, for all the wrongs he’d done to her. Because maybe… maybe he would have allowed it. Maybe he would have just looked at her with those wounded, shimmering eyes, and taken it. Like he had with all those cruel women he’d lived with, the ones who’d commanded him, and made himbeg.
Geva felt her breaths heaving again, suddenly, her eyes blinking, her mouth pulling into a wavering little smile. “I don’t want to make you suffer, Rathgarr,” she replied, her voice thick. “And look, if that’s — something you want, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can give it to you.”
And now it was Rathgarr’s eyes blinking, one of his hands slipping up, catching shaky on her face. “No, poppet,” he whispered. “What you — how you did this, it was — naught I have ever tasted before, ach? To be longed for, hungered for, to be told I am good and strong and worthy” — his voice choked, his head shaking — “whilst you also tease me and challenge me and draw out my pleasure? Without one breath of anger or mockery?”
He sounded truly disbelieving now, his hand still stroking with shaky, stilted reverence at her face. “How can this be truth,” he whispered, as a streak of wetness escaped from his eye, down toward the bed. “How can this be mine. I am dreaming, I ken, and I never wish to awaken.”
Oh. Geva had to swallow down the rising catch in her throat, blink back the wetness behind her own eyes, and she ducked her head, and pressed a soft, reverent kiss to his mouth. To where he was already meeting her, so warm and willing, tasting so strongly of her, of him, of them.
“You can’t be dreaming, love,” she said, as lightly as she could, once she’d drawn away again, and bumped his nose with hers. “Because if you were, I would not have seed currently drippinginto my ear.”
She grimaced as she attempted to shake it out, and beneath her Rathgarr barked a sudden, relieved-sounding laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I ken you are painted all over, poppet,” he said lightly. “Inside and out. You shallneverstop reeking of me, after this.”
