Her Orc Husband

I wake up pressed to a furnace. I’m way too hot, but I don’t want to move just yet, because then I’ll wake up, and I’ll have to go down to the kitchen to start breakfast and help Amber with the boys. For a long moment, I luxuriate under the covers, willing myself to stretch out the bliss just a bit more.

Then the furnace moves. I snap my eyes open and find myself facing a naked chest—a green naked chest that must belong to my orc husband. I freeze in place, worried. We had an agreement. He told me he would not touch me, and despite what we did last night, I trusted him not to take advantage of that.

Then a vague memory trickles in. I must have woken up during the night, because I remember being chilled. My heating brick had gone cold, and I couldn’t bring myself to brave the freezing night air to dash out to the night watch’s fire and ask for a hot replacement. I also didn’t want to wake Marut and ask him to do it because that had seemed too unfair.

I’d turned to my side and brushed up against Marut’s naked arm—and realized how hot he was. So I did the only reasonable thing. I scooted closer and wiggled my feet until they touched his leg under the covers and let his warmth permeate into me.

That doesn’t explain how I ended up plastered to his side, or why the pillow under my head is actually his upper arm, the thick muscles relaxed.

Gods, I took advantage of him in his sleep.

I scrunch my eyes closed, trying to figure out how to solve this situation. If I could sneak away from him, he might never—

“Good morning,” Marut rumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Eek!” I jerk back, scrambling for the other side of the tent. “You’re awake?”

His low chuckle tells me he’s not outraged about this at all.

“Aye, I have been for a while.” He stretches his arms over his head, still flat on his back. The muscles of his abdomen and chest ripple with the movement, transfixing me, until he adds, “You sleep like the dead.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean…”

“To wake me with your freezing feet?” he supplies. “Woman, we need to get you some wool socks.”

I blink at him, still sleepy but now buzzing with energy, too. It’s a strange combination, and all I can think to say is, “You knew? Why didn’t you say something?”

Marut lifts himself on one elbow. His gaze grows soft as he studies me. “Violet, I want you to touch me. If you want to lie next to me, I will never reject you. Even if your feet are blocks of ice. Even if you cling to me all night.”

I push up to a seated position. “Ah. All right, then. Thank you for keeping me warm.”

He grins and sits opposite me. He’s still shirtless, and I find the broad expanse of his green skin fascinating. Now I know how it feels under my palms, I want more of it.

“Better get dressed.” He jerks his chin toward my rolled-up dress. “The others will be up soon.”

With deft fingers, he tugs the leather string from the end of one of his braids that’s become loose and redoes the braid before tying the string back. His muscles shift and bunch with each movement, distracting me.

“Violet?” he prompts again.

I jerk to attention. “Yes! Others will be up. I-I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Flushing madly, I dive for the dress and tug it over my head. I’m lacing it up at the front when I realize I forgot to put on my stays. The whalebone and silk contraption has been my constant companion for more than a decade, ever since I first grew a figure curvy enough that it had to be…contained. At least that’s how my mother and the seamstress we visited put it, delicate but stern. Sighing, I go to undo the laces.

“You don’t need that,” Marut says softly.

I lift my gaze to his. “Hmm?”

He motions at the heap of fabric lying at the top of the bedroll. “The women in our lands almost never wear them.” He shrugs. “We’ll be traveling all day. You’ll be wearing a cloak. No use making yourself uncomfortable, is what I think.”

With that, he grabs a fresh shirt from his bag, leans close to me, and presses a quick, hard kiss to my mouth. Then he’s out of the tent and striding away before I can protest that I want more than just that quick brush of lips.

We travel fast and far, spurred on by a change in the weather. After two lovely days, when I could sit on the driver’s seat and enjoy the early spring sunshine despite the biting wind, clouds are gathering in the east. Marut insists I put my hood up and wraps me in a blanket, but I still inch closer to his side, seeking his warmth.

He keeps stealing glances at me, heated looks that have me blushing. I can almost hear him thinking about what we did last night—because I’m thinking about it, too. If the bulge of his cock is any indication, he’s eager to try more. So am I. The memory of his wicked tongue on my pussy is thrilling, but I need to learn everything.

Now that I know how pleasurable marriage can be, I think back on the suitors I refused and potential matches Mrs. Pimms set up for me. If I’d known about what my body is capable of, would I have chosen one of those men so they could do this for me? I don’t think I would have—I didn’t feel an ounce of attraction to any of them. Nothing I experienced in their company can compare to the exhilarating rush I feel every time I glance at my husband.

Some of it has to do with the climax I experienced yesterday for the first time, but it goes beyond that. I was attracted to him from the first moment he claimed me as his, and I think it’s because I sensed on some base level that he was everything I’d been waiting for.

I’ve been mulling over a very important question all day, however, and after lunch, when we’re trundling north on a lonely stretch of road, I finally gather the courage to broach the topic with my husband. I peer around the side of the wagon to see if Neekar, who is driving the wagon behind ours, might be listening, but I can’t see around the bulky back end at all.

“What are you doing?” Marut barks. He grasps the back of my cloak and tugs me back toward him on the driver’s seat. “If you’re not careful, you’ll fall off.”

I send him an exasperated look. “I’m only checking to see if others can hear us.”

Marut lifts his eyebrows. “Not if you talk quietly enough. The wagons make a lot of noise.”

That calms my fear somewhat—what I want to say isn’t something I’d enjoy sharing with the entire caravan. I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how to phrase the question.

“Is something wrong?” Marut asks. His eyebrows draw together in a frown, and he sweeps his gaze over me as if checking for injuries. “Is it about last night?”

“No,” I hurry to say. “I mean, yes.”

His scowl deepens, but before he can demand an explanation, I shift a little closer to him and lower my voice to whisper, “It is about last night, but not how you think.”

Marut leans his head down so we’re nearly nose to nose. “Tell me.”

“Well,” I begin, “I-I enjoyed what we did. A lot.” This is the most understated way to describe what I experienced, but it will have to do for now. “And I think you did, too?”

I pause here and wait for him to nod. He does, and his gaze slips to my mouth.

“I’ve never enjoyed anything more than having your lips on my cock,” he says, direct as always. “The only thing that will ever be better is when I’ll get inside your pussy for the first time.”

I slap my hand over his mouth, unthinking. “Shh!” I widen my eyes. “You said to speak quietly. You-you can’t say things like that in broad daylight.”

Marut winks at me and kisses the inside of my palm. I lower it slowly, realizing I just touched him again, without even considering it this time. I’m becoming more and more comfortable around him, relaxing my rigid standards. We’re sitting thigh to thigh, and I’m not wearing any stays, and now I’m touching him without even putting my gloves on.

It’s as if my old life is peeling off in layers with every mile we travel away from my childhood home.

“All right, so we both enjoyed last night,” Marut says. “Would you like to repeat it tonight?”

“Yes.” I turn to face him fully. “But I’d like to learn more. I mean, I’d like to, uh…”

“Fuck?” Marut supplies helpfully, his voice betraying his eagerness.

I close my eyes for a brief second. “Yes,” I whisper. “But I have questions. About your size. And-and mine.”

Marut straightens his shoulders, his gaze on the road. “Ah.”

So he knows it will be an issue. Perhaps we weren’t fated to be together after all, if even he is worried. I’d hoped he would immediately put my fears to rest, saying it won’t be an issue at all, but apparently not.

“So—will it work?” I press. “Because I would like it to. But you said it will be painful, and I’m not particularly fond of pain, I must admit.”

My husband sighs. “I cannot promise you there won’t be discomfort. As far as I know, every woman experiences some the first time she takes a cock.” He looks sideways at me. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be very pleasurable after. We’ve got all our lives to make up for it. And I promise you now that I will do everything in my power to make it as good for you as I can.”

I mull over this, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “All right,” I say finally, “but what of your size?”

He glances at his lap. “Well, humans and orcs have been mating for centuries. It doesn’t always happen like this, but we have a number of human women in our clan, and I haven’t heard any complaints from any of them.” He raises his eyebrows. “In fact, I heard our training master, Vark, and his mate fucking in the hot baths the other week. She seemed to be enjoying herself just fine and didn’t complain about the size of Vark’s cock at all.”

Oh gods.

I cover my eyes with my hand. He heard them fucking in the bath? Does everyone live together in this orc settlement if he witnessed an intimate moment like that, or are orcs really so uninhibited that they mate in public?

A throb of want in my belly confuses me even more. My body is responding to the mental image of floating naked with Marut in warm water, surrounded by steam. Last night, the tent offered us only an illusion of privacy, and I wonder for the first time how many of the orcs in the caravan heard my cries of pleasure and Marut’s growl when he finished.

“Your cheeks get so pink.” Marut leans in close and lifts his hand to my face as if he wants to brush the backs of his knuckles over my cheek.

Then he goes to lower his hand, but I move forward just an inch, until my skin makes contact with his. This is the first time I’ve allowed him to deliberately touch me, and I don’t dislike it at all. His fingers feel lovely on my overheated cheek.

Marut lets out a harsh breath, then touches his thumb to my lower lip, pressing down on it lightly. “And you smell so good, little bird. I scent how wet you’re getting. Don’t worry about any of it. We will be so good together.”

Then he pulls back and focuses on the road, guiding the horses with a confident grip on the reins. I sit beside him, trembling with want, wishing I had the guts to take the next step and climb into Marut’s lap.