“You okay?” he grits, teeth bared as if it pains him to hold still.
“Aye, my love. Now move.” I lift my hips upward, plunging him in another bare quarter of an inch.
He groans and takes over, pulling out slowly and plunging back in. “I’ve never felt anything so perfect as your wet cunt,” he whispers in my ear. My arms are curled around his back, feeling the fine muscles shift underneath my touch as his body flexes and releases. There’s a fire he’s stoking deep inside me, in a spot never before touched, and it’s building a pressure, making me crave a culmination of all these raging, spiraling hormones.
“Faster, orc.” I’d like to say more, but he’s already as deep as he can possibly go.
There’s a keening desperate sound, moans, and I can’t believe I sound like that. Begging, whimpering. I thought I’d be more demanding during sex. But not with Var. With him, I’ll do anything, promise anything, beg for his touch, his kiss, his cock.
“Godsfire, female. Not sure if I can hold out with you. Pains me to say it, but if I lose control and comebefore you, don't worry. I’ll finish you with my tongue.”
And that feels so naughty, knowing his tongue will go where his cock was, that my broken nails shred his shoulders.
“Let go, Negan,” he mutters, kissing the side of my neck. His words are magical, controlling my body, allowing me to explode. Stars burst behind my lids and everything peaks. My heart races as I ride the waves of pleasure, briefly aware of my sheath clenching around his plunging cock, gripping it, squeezing it as he groans and quivers, hot spurts of liquid filling me up. Our orgasms blast together, ripping through our bodies, and eventually when I can think again, I’m breathing hard, curled against him.
“Beautiful Negan, I love you,” he says thickly, like the words are torn from him. And while a part of me thinks it’s sex talk, another part of me knows this is real.
No longer am I Negan, the virgin Blackheart, bridge to the West Mountain orcs.
I’m his.
Totally, completely, unequivocally his.
“I love you too, Var.”
“I want to stay the night with you in my arms. But I have to return to my watch.”
“I get it.”
His arms tighten. “Tomorrow? I’ll walk you to the market with Rosemary. I’ll take you to lunch.”
“Mmm, nay, orc,” I say, nipping his bottom lip. “Tomorrow is lunch with Rosemary and Paul. You’ll come over and join us.”
Time for my orc to see what family is like.
Chapter Twelve
HE PASSED THE test with flying colors.
He was just as wonderful with me after we had sex as he was before. He was just as wonderful in the week following. It’s been our own little honeymoon here in Creede. That might not have happened had I picked a male in my own clan. It may have been males bragging—or honestly, I might have ignored the male afterward. Gone the route of my mother. I do have half her genes, after all.
The rest of the orcs have gone home and it’s just been me and him—Aunt Rosemary and Uncle Paul.
And it’s perfect, each day better than the last. We make love in the woods, in the creek, in the wagon outside.
And when he pings a pebble outside my window? I open that up and he climbs inside so we can make love in my room.
Tonight is the smell of rain in the air, and storm clouds are rolling in. He’s been distracted, leaving dinner early to head out to watch the house. I’m not sure why he’s so intent to watch from outside, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of any Southpeaks in the village since the mating ceremony. I ready myself for bed, a little sad that I don’t think he’ll visit me this night, but a little hopeful too when it starts to rain. Mayhap the weather will bring him in. I wait, but there’s nothing, not until I blow out the candle that sits near my bed.
A small pebble pings against the pane of the window but with the light rain pattering the glass, I almost miss it.
Varguk.
A tingle flips inside my lower belly. He’ll slip inside, we’ll make love until the early morn and I’ll head out to market with Aunt Rosemary. Sure, the sun’s heat will make me tired toward midday, but it’s going to be so worth it. And afterward, she’ll leave me in his care with a wink while she goes off to visit Uncle Paul, probably knowing that Varguk and I need alone time that we won’t get later when my visit to Creede is done.
Very quietly, I slide the window up and peer out into the darkness. He’s not in the usual spot where I can see him. He’s further back, near a tree, as if he softly climbed down and had to pitch a rock further. I can barely make out his form as he points to the back of the house. The door?
Why doesn’t he climb the trellis like he always does? Mayhap there’s something wrong—it’s loose or slippery. All the excitement I felt earlier slips away. Something isn’t right.
