Page 76 of The Orc Warrioress and the Elf Lord

“I thought I was going to have an orgasm just from your fingers and mouth there. I’ve never felt anything like that. I’ve never been with a man who seemed particularly interested in pleasing me. They have all been selfish—”

“Oh, trust me, I was being very selfish with your breasts. That was… They are spectacular.” He looked at them again, sighing.

“You deserve me, is all I’m saying.”

He rolled over onto his side and smiled at her. “I don’t.” He kissed her forehead and then the bridge of her nose.

“Iahir.” She smoothed a hand down his chest.

“We’re tired,” he said. “Are you tired?”

“If you’re embarrassed,” she breathed, “this happens to men all the time. It’s very normal. And if we just give it a bit of time, I’m sure your cock will wake back up and want to play again.”

He kissed her mouth hard. “You’re wonderful.”

She pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Am I?”

“Mmm,” he said. He shut his eyes. He really was tired.

20

GATHREN TYPICALLY ONLY had an orgasm one way and was with one finger gliding over the very tip of her clitoris, a gentle sort of glide, not too much pressure, just a tiny amount. She could do it if she went back and forth or up and down or in circles, but she had never had an orgasm like that, where basically nothing was touching her clitoris.

Well, that wasn’t true, because her clitoris had felt trapped between his thigh and her pelvic bone and she’d been very aware of her clothing, which had been a pleasant pressure all around her sensitive places, all around, in all sorts of places besides the tip of her clitoris, in all sorts of inside places, places that had all seemed to wake up and swell and make that entire part of her body so very, very sensitive. She had never felt anything like that.

Certainly, men made a great deal of noise about her breasts.

They liked the look of them and they always wanted to see them, and they even liked to spend a cursory amount of time examining them, suckling them, tweaking them.

And then they abandoned doing anything to her except trying to coax her to take their cocks.

She had not been with a great many men, it was true. Well. Six.

Was that a great many?

All of them, however, had been so very much the same as each other as to have convinced her that men were simply a certain way in bed. There was a pattern and there was little variance from it. Men wanted, from the beginning, to put their cocks inside her, and they weren’t much interested in waking her up or getting her ready or excited. They just wanted to fuck.

The fucking wasn’t much about her. She was just there, and they were doing it on her, and it was essentially always like that.

This…

Iahir was sleeping next to her, head tilted back, pretty elfin lips parted, his golden hair splayed over his pale forehead, entirely naked, entirely uncovered and he had not even managed to make it inside her.

There had been one man she had taken up with more than once who was wont to lose his erection, and he would always be quite, quite embarrassed about it, but also very insistent that it be reawakened. Not overtly, perhaps, but she could tell that the man wanted to be hard again, wanted to fuck her, would be devastated if he couldn’t achieve it, and she had gotten good at coaxing him for his own sake.

Then she’d felt guilty for not wanting to take up with him again and had probably acquiesced to letting him share her bed again a few times out of that guilt. But it wasn’t because of his flagging cock, truly, it was because of the extra emotional labor that came along with reassuring him in addition to giving him pleasure, and all of this without much consideration for her own pleasure.

But Iahir had gone slack-jawed when her binding fabric came away and had been mesmerized and intrigued and had driven her half out of her mind with the way he’d touched her breasts. She really had begun to think that she might crest just from his fingers rubbing her nipples, because it felt so incredibly good, and she had been edging towards a crest like a wave trying to froth for some time when he pulled her down to straddle him. And then she’d started rocking herself against this thigh only because it felt nice, not because she thought she could actually get herself to tip over that way.

But the orgasm had just happened, blossoming through her like a sweet purple spring flower, and she’d never been so surprised or happy about something in her life.

She’d never had an orgasm with a man before.

And then he didn’t even fuck her.

She gazed down at him, asleep there, his cock now soft. His cock really did seem too big for the rest of his body. It was long and thick and even now, even soft, it lay there against his thigh and it looked too large next to his slender limbs. He was wiry and accented here and there with fine bits of blond hair. He looked pretty, she thought, but pretty in a masculine way, and she liked looking at him, could probably look at him all day, really, all the time, just spend all her time sitting there and watching him talk or move or tell his stupid jokes or smoke that pipe of his or—

Oh, I am in love with him.