By the time he palms my breasts, I’m pushing into him shamelessly. He’s right about everything. When his thumbs cross my nipples, I whimper loudly.
“There,” he rumbles. “That sound. Fourteen months, this island called me silent. I was just waiting for someone worth answering.”
Then he kneels. Seven feet of orc coming down to his knees in front of me is a geological event. Even kneeling, he’s not that much shorter than me. He peels my skirt and panties down slowly. When I step out of the last of it, shoes included, I’m standing completely naked while an orc looks at me like I’m the banquet he’s been waiting years to devour.
“Lie back on the couch,” he says. “Let me work.”
No way I’m going to argue. The couch is exactly the right height for this, which raises questions about who’s ordering the furniture that I’ll pursue another day. He settles between my thighs, wraps two enormous hands around my hips, and stops, mouth an inch from my pussy.
“Look at you.” His breath alone is almost contact. “Swollen and wet. All this under the gray skirt in the corner of that room.” His thumbs spread me open, and the sound that comes out of him is half growl, half grace before a meal. “I am going to tell you a secret, my heart. I talk when I work.”
My heart? I don’t have time to dwell on his word choices.
He isn’t lying about talking while he works. The tusks, which I have been quietly wondering about since the cafeteria, turn out to be part of the plan. They come in smooth side first, two warm curves settled against my inner thighs, at an angle he has clearly worked out in advance. He solved a problem I hadn’t even considered, and if his hands weren’t holding my thighs open, those tusks alone could.
His tongue is longer than a human’s and more dexterous, which the orientation binder didn’t cover. Does the person who wrote it even know? He uses it with months’ worth of patience, long strokes and then a tight, devastating focus. And every time he lifts away half an inch, he talks.
“Sweet like honey.” He says it against me, and the rumble goes right through my clit. “I’ve been wondering what you’d taste like all day.”
I don’t get an answer out before he’s licking me again. The next time he surfaces, I’m moaning loudly.
“Your thighs are shaking against my ears.” He sounds deeply satisfied about it. “Leave them there. I want to feel it when you come apart.” I’m whimpering as he continues to speak between deep licks. “I’m going slow now. Right there. Feel your legs give.”
They nearly do.
“Now faster. Don’t hold your breath.”
I’m already holding my breath.
“Breathe, Wren. I have time. I’m not going anywhere for a long, long while.”
Four seconds of warning before every single thing he does, so my body braces and melts in the same breath.
“Valdrek.” My hands find his hair, that one short braid. “I’d like to amend the record. You shouldn’t talk to anyone but me. This is mine.”
I writhe against him when he laughs against my pussy. “Hold on to my braid,” he murmurs, “it’s traditional.” I’m not sure if he’s joking, but I twist it around my fist anyway.
He seals his mouth over my clit and stops talking entirely. The silence is filthier than the words.
The first orgasm forces my back off the couch. My thighs clamp around his head with absolutely no effect on him whatsoever as he keeps licking. I cry out so loudly, there’s no way the handler in the hallway can’t hear me.
Valdrek works me through it without one wasted motion, and then, just as promised, he does not stop.
“One,” he says against my thigh, and starts over.
He gentles and rebuilds, two thick fingers sliding into my pussy and his tongue working my clit in circles.
“I feel you building already.” His voice comes back deeper. “Don’t fight it.”
“Valdrek—”
“Give me one more.” His fingers curl and find a spot that makes my whole body jolt. “Right there. I know.”
“You waited fourteen months,” I gasp, or try to. It comes out in pieces.
“I did.” He doesn’t lose his rhythm. “Fourteen months. And I keep what I’m given, Wren. So give.”
The second one rolls in and keeps rolling, and somewhere in the middle of it, I hear myself say his name in a register I’ve never once used in this life.
