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His head goes back to looking at the wall, and asks again, calmly, “What do I need to stop?”
“Your lust,” I grit out between my teeth. “I can smell it. Whatever you are thinking about, stop.”
The back of his neck heats, but all he says is, “I’ll try.”
I hurry with the rest of my bath and step out of the water, wrapping the towel around me. Going back to my war clothes, I wrinkle my nose with disgust. I don’t want to put my sweaty leather back on my clean body.
“There are clean clothes in my pack. Yours are the smaller parcels,” offers Marvik, as if hearing my hesitation.
That’s right. We went to the tailor’s today. I don’t remember what he picked for me, though. I go to the bed where his knapsack rests and open it. Pulling out the parcels, I find three that are a little smaller than the others. I open one package and find two tunics inside. I pull one over my head and find that it fits, but it is long on me, going to just above my knee. That works. Then I open another package and find some trousers. Going to pull them on, I find theyare too loose on the waist. I will need a belt. I let them fall off and open the last package. Socks. Clean, fluffy socks, much better than the sweat-drenched, threadbare ones that I have been wearing for the last few months. The thoughtfulness of the purchase makes me feel a certain way, a way that would be wise to ignore. I pull them on and they feel luxurious against my skin, made from some sort of silky wool blend.
When I am mostly dressed, I say, “Alright, you can turn around. It’s your turn.”
Marvik turns, and when he sees me, he stares. His eyes flick down to my bare legs, slowly working their way up until they reach the modest cleavage that is bared by the tunic’s low collar.
His scent explodes with lust. There’s no other way to describe it. I smell want and desire. Longing, even. It’s so strong that I can almost feel how much he wants to touch me. I immediately get soaked between my thighs and I am glad that he is not an orc, so he can’t smell it. A little thrum escapes me before I quash it again.
Marvik steps forward. “That sound. The thrum. You said orcs make it with their mates. Does that mean that you want me too?”
Want him too? He is myAsh’ka. I have wanted him almost from the moment we met, my frustrated lust a source of great irritation. My Mating Instinct rumbles and purrs within me.
But to admit it would be vulnerable and I do not trust him enough to be vulnerable with him. Instead, I say softly, “You don’t really want me.”
He strides forward, taking my hand in his and places my hand on his cock. It is an iron bar in his trousers, hot and reaching toward me. I feel the urge to squeeze lightly, to test its firmness, but I keep my hand slack.
“That’s just base lust,” I point out, even as my voice is a little breathless. “You are feeling it because I am the only female close,and it has been long since you’ve had a woman. You don’t want me. You want your huntress.”
He goes still. “Where did you hear that word?”
I blush lightly, remembering this morning, the passionate kiss that we shared in our sleep. But I don’t go into detail, I merely say, “You said it last night in your sleep.”
Marvik’s face comes down a few inches, a breath away from my own. I am frozen, unable to move. Unbidden, my eyes go to his full lips, his face graced with light stubble.
“I said it in my sleep because I dreamed of you,” he murmurs. “I have only one huntress, and that is you.”
My heart stills in my chest, absorbing his words. Me? He dreamed of me so passionately? He continues, “I’m going to kiss you now, Dura. Stop me if you must.”
But I can’t stop him. I don’twantto stop him. His lips take mine and it is all over for me. The first time we kissed, it was all teeth and tongue, a punishment. This time it is sweet and soft, a seductive dance. It reminds me of this morning, only better because we are both aware. My knees weaken and I fall onto the bed, Marvik following me. We land among the packages that I took out earlier and Marvik impatiently dashes them onto the floor before coming back to my lips again.
His chest presses against mine, and his hand finds the outside of my thigh, hitching up my leg so that it is on his waist. My tunic rides up, exposing my sex to the cold air, and he settles between my legs, grinding on me, only the thin material of his trousers separating his cock from my wet heat. I mewl as my blood turns to honey, thick with arousal in my veins.
“Those fucking little sounds you make,” he growls against my lips, “I fucking love them.”
Then he gives a little nip to my lip, just hard enough that it ignites something in me. I take my hands and rip at his tunic, clumsily pulling it over his head. He helps me and soon his sculpted torsocomes into view. With my claws, I lightly graze up the sides of his ribs and he groans, kissing me hard. Then I sheathe my claws and reach between us to the ties of his trousers and yank. They fall down his thighs and I grasp his cock like I wanted to before. He growls deep in his throat. The sound spurs my thrum, which I let spill out unimpeded. Marvik hardens further in my hand, leaking arousal.
“What is this?” he gasps, his arms shaking a little as my thrumming spurs his lust to new heights.
“My thrumming, mysibilance,” I explain, wiping my thumb over the top of his manhood, wiping away his seed. “It causes your arousal to increase and last longer.” I take my thumb up to my mouth and taste his cum. It is salty, but not unpleasant. Marvik’s eyes darken at the action, dilating with passion.
“As if I need help to be aroused by you.”
His words please me, but I say, “I can’t help it. It just happens whenIam aroused.”
His lips find mine again, before wandering down my neck, “Then keep going, huntress. Feels good.”
The hand that isn’t holding my leg comes down and brushes over my nipple.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he grumbles, then licks my collar bone. I shiver at how good it feels. Reaching down, I grab the hem of my tunic and then squirm until it is over my head.
