His rhythm faltered. His hips stuttered, drove deep, and held.
She felt his first pulse inside her.
Hot. Thick. Flooding her in waves that seemed to go on and on while his body shuddered against her back. His groan vibrated through her ribcage, a sound that came from somewhere deeper than his chest, somewhere primal and satisfied and wrecked.
He stayed buried inside her while the aftershocks rolled through them both. Her inner walls fluttered around him, squeezing weakly with each pulse, and she felt the hot slick leaking out around the base of his cock, dripping down her thighs.
Varek's forehead dropped to her spine. His breath came in hard bursts against her skin, scorching and unsteady. His hands loosened on her hips, thumbs stroking over the places where his fingers had dug in.
"Still with me?" His voice was wrecked. Scraped raw.
Mab tried to answer. What came out was a sound that might have been affirmative, muffled against the silk beneath her cheek.
His laugh was low and broken. "Good."
Chapter 11
The drag of Varek leaving her body made Mab whimper into the silk. Every ridge caught against swollen flesh, a sensation that hovered somewhere between too much and not enough, and by the time he was fully out of her she felt hollowed. Empty in a way that had nothing to do with satisfaction.
His hand pressed flat against the base of her spine, holding her still while the evidence of what they'd done slipped down her thighs.
"Don't move yet."
Mab couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to. Her arms had stopped working somewhere around the third orgasm. Her knees were the only thing keeping her hips in the air, and even those were trembling.
The mattress shifted. She heard him cross the room, heard water splash, and then he was back. A warm cloth pressed between her thighs.
"I can do that," she said.
"You can." The cloth dragged slowly up her inner thigh. "You won't."
He cleaned the slick from her thighs, the crease where her leg met her body, the swollen flesh that flinched at even that gentle pressure. When he finished, the cloth disappeared and his hands returned to her hips.
"On your back now."
Mab let him turn her. Her body moved where he put it, loose-limbed and unresisting, and when her back hit the mattress she stared up at the canopy without really seeing it. The pale blue hangings looked different from this angle. Softer.
Varek stretched out beside her. The bed was built for a human lord and lady, not for a seven-foot orc warrior, and his feet hung off the end. He didn't seem to notice. His hand settled on her belly, broad palm spanning the soft curve of it.
"Soft belly. Full tits. Thighs I could spend a week between." He stroked his hand up and down. "And this cunt that just took every inch of me like it was made for it."
Heat crawled up Mab's face. "You can't just say things like that."
"I can say whatever I want." His hand slid lower, fingers brushing the top of the curls between her thighs. "You're mine. Going to keep you this way. Dripping with my seed."
The words landed somewhere low in her belly, a pulse of heat that had no business existing after what he'd just wrung out of her. She should be empty. Spent. Instead, the thought made her clench between her thighs, a flutter of muscle that his fingers must have felt because his hand stilled.
"Already?" His voice was rough with something that sounded like satisfaction. "I've barely pulled out of you."
"I didn't—" She stopped. Swallowed. "That wasn't on purpose."
"Wasn't it?"
Mab turned her face toward him. He was propped on one elbow, watching her. The silver threading in his beard was more visible this close. So were the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the old scar that cut through his left eyebrow, the way his tusks curved up past lips that had been between her thighs not long ago.
She had never looked at a man's face this long. Had never been allowed to.
Mab's bladder chose that moment to make itself known.
