Her Orc Warrior: A Monster Fantasy Romance (Black Bear Clan Book 3)

My insides quiver at his words, and I lean in, ghosting my lips over his. They’re firm and warm, and I expect Vark to take charge and plunder, but he keeps himself still, waiting for me. I squirm closer, drowning in his scent, and this time, I raise my chin and kiss him full on the mouth.

This first step seems to be the permission he needed. Vark’s arm loops around me, and he brings one hand up to trace my chin. He digs his fingers in my hair and tips my head back, so I open up to him, gasping into his mouth. His tongue touches mine in an exploratory caress, but at my response, he charges ahead, licking into my mouth.

It’s a full onslaught, and it’s all I can do to hold on. I’ve never been kissed like this. All the sloppy, rushed, perfunctory kisses I’ve received—or given—are erased under this incredible rush of sensations. Vark kisses me like we’ve got all the time in the world, savoring me. And I do the same, because if I thought his scent was delicious, it can’t compare to his spicy taste.

I grip his coat and use it to haul myself closer, until my chest is pressed up to his. I’m all but lying on him. His hands roam my body, supporting me. He palms my ass and gives me a squeeze, and I pant, wanting more. My insides are on fire. I don’t care about the cold anymore, I only need to take my clothes off, and Vark’s. I crave to touch his skin, to rub myself all over him and—

A fat raindrop falls on my face, startling me. I pull back, blinking in confusion. I’m draped over Vark, my knees on either side of his hips, the hard shaft of his cock nestled against my belly. I stare up at him, and he gazes back, his expression mirroring mine.

This kiss was spectacular. And very public.

I was this close to ripping off my tunic, and we’re in the middle of a country road. In a storm, it seems. More raindrops splatter over us, a cold shower we both desperately need.

I push off Vark’s chest. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean…”

“You did.” Vark’s fingers dig into my hips instead of letting me go. “And that’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

I bite my lip, not sure I agree. Then I look at the angry gray sky. “Divine intervention, huh?”

Vark gives me a wicked smile. “Aye. It means I’ll get you in a bed tonight.”

“What?”

He cups the back of my head and hauls me in for another deep kiss. Then he breaks the contact and says, “This will turn into a deluge soon. We’ll be sleeping at an inn. With beds.”

I want to say that’s outrageous, that I certainly won’t be sharing a bed with him, but the words won’t come out. My mind is going through all the excuses—it’s too early, you barely know him, you’ll get attached and then you’ll get hurt—but my body doesn’t seem to care. The very insistent hardness between my legs is painting vivid pictures in my head, erotic images of how amazing it would be to have Vark in my bed if a mere kiss was so incendiary.

Vark sets me back on his lap and dips his gaze to the seam of my leather pants. “We were talking about something earlier…”

I jerk to attention. “Yes?”

“I’d like a taste. Of your pussy.”

I close my eyes for a moment, embarrassed. “Vark…”

His hands leave my hips. He’s frowning now, gripping the driver’s seat with both hands, so hard his knuckles turn pale. The wagon rolls over another pothole, so I steady myself with a hand on Vark’s chest. His heartbeat drums against my palm, fast and strong.

“What is it?” I ask.

He dips his chin, his nostrils flaring. “I don’t—I don’t want to pressure you. If you don’t want this, you only need to say so.”

My insides squirm with an emotion that’s deeper than the pure lust I’d been feeling moments ago. He’s worried about my well-being. He wants me to be comfortable with him.

Still holding on to his chest, I undo the leather laces at the waist of my pants.

“You said I should, um, dip my fingers?” I whisper. “And let you lick them?”

Vark’s hands come up to hold my waist. “Hazel, you don’t have to…”

“But I want to,” I say, conviction lacing my words. “So tell me how.”

He swallows, his throat bobbing. “Reach inside,” he says, his voice hoarse. “And part your lips.”

I hold his gaze instead of looking down as I reach my pussy with my fingers. I slip my middle finger lower, and my eyelids flutter at the contact with that sensitive spot at the top of my lips. The rain is falling harder now, painting the front of Vark’s coat with darker spots, but I don’t care. Not when this feels so good.

“Now what?” I breathe.

He lets out a quiet groan. “Are you wet for me, Hazel?”

I nod, a quick jerk of my head. I pull my fingers from my pants and hold them up between us. They’re wet, glistening with the proof of my want for him.

Vark leans in, grabs my wrist, and lifts my hand to his lips. Slowly, keeping his gaze on my face, he licks one finger after another and groans at the taste.

My pussy throbs in time with each lick. I never thought fingers could be so sensitive, but I feel every rough scrape of his tongue as if he’d just licked my nipples.

He cleans my fingers, then leans in and whispers in my ear, “Will you make yourself come for me?”

He’s pushing me, testing my limits. It’s all my fault—I gave him an opening, showed him that I wasn’t afraid. And I need the release. I’m strung tight, my heartbeat fast, my insides molten hot. My nipples are sensitive points straining against the linen of my tunic.

Vark moves back just enough to meet my gaze. He studies me, and a crooked smile twists his lips as I dip my hand back into my pants. “You want me to guide you?”

I have to force myself to hold my eyes open. It would be so much easier to close them and pretend I was somewhere else, that this entire moment was only a naughty fantasy I’d conjured up in the privacy of my own bed, under the cover of darkness. But Vark is here, he’s so big and sturdy, and I cannot forget about his presence.

“Yes,” I admit.

I can’t bring myself to a climax on his lap while he watches. I need him involved, committed to the same goal, or the embarrassment will be too much for me.

Vark seems to know it, too. He spreads his knees a fraction, which in turn forces my thighs farther apart. “I want to rip these pants off you,” he murmurs in my ear. “I want to see your pink pussy more than you can imagine. But this will have to do.”

I keep my fingers in my pants, not moving, but not retreating either. “Vark…”

“Aye, pet, I’m here.” He slides his palms from my ass to my sides, his thumbs coming to the front to tease the undersides of my breasts through my tunic. “Now spread around that wetness for me.”

I reach deeper, coating two fingers in my slick warmth. Then I bring it up, easing the way my fingertips glide over that sensitive spot.

“Find your pearl,” he instructs. Then he frowns at me. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

I smirk and shake my head. “No.”

He growls. “Good. You’ll have less trouble taking my cock.”

I glance down between us. Given his size, I think I’ll have trouble taking him anyway. Not that I’ve decided to fuck him. We’re a long way from that, for sure.

“Look at me, Hazel,” Vark barks.

I snap my gaze up to his, shocked at the heat I find there. He steals a kiss from me, his lips and tongue rougher than before. I lean into him, and my fingers press down on my pearl, sending bolts of sensation radiating from my pussy.

“Oh.”

I gasp against his lips, and Vark drinks my exhale, kissing me deeply.

Between slow, drugging caresses, he murmurs, “Flick your pearl. Circle it. Find what feels good and repeat it.” His voice gets rough with desire, and he thrusts subtly with his hips before he stops himself. “Faster.”

I hover at the edge of my climax, my body clenched. To know that he’s so aroused—yet completely focused on my pleasure—gives me a sense of safety I didn’t know I needed.

“Vark,” I gasp. “This feels so good.”

He lets out a hoarse laugh. “Imagine how good it’ll feel when I fill your pussy with my thick cock. You’ll take me so well, pet. I can smell how wet you are.”

I cry out, and he puts his palm over my lips, muffling the sound. I stare at him, aware of our surroundings but so, so close to my bliss. The frustration of not being able to plunge into my pleasure has pressure building in my chest.

“Ah, Hazel,” Vark murmurs, digging the fingers of his other hand into my hair. “If you could see yourself right now.”

I whimper behind his palm and swirl my fingertips over my pearl. The sensation is almost too much, all my nerve endings on alert, but it’s as if an invisible barrier is holding me back, preventing me from reaching for what I want the most.

“What do you need, pet?” Vark removes his palm. “How can I help?”

I want to say that I’ve got this, that he’s doing enough, but even though I scrunch my eyes shut and concentrate, the release won’t come.

Vark hums. “Will you let me…?”

I halt my movements, blinking. “You want to do that?”

He huffs out a breath. “You’re really asking me if I want to touch you? Hazel, I would kill for the privilege.”

Shaking with need, I go against my first instinct, which is to keep teasing my pearl, and withdraw my hand from my pants. I want to wipe my slick fingers on my tunic, but Vark grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth again.

He closes his lips around my fingers and groans in pleasure, his body tensing under me. “You taste like peaches. Never deny me this.”

I smile breathlessly. I want to tell him that I enjoy his scent as well, but he kisses me again, pushing all words from my mind. His tongue is still coated with my essence, the taste sweet and surprising. Kissing Vark is unlike anything I’ve done in my life.

He’s been so gentle with me, but now he takes charge, handling me with a confidence that has me gasping. He loosens the ties at my waist some more and pushes his hand inside. His fingers touch my slick pearl, and I nearly jump out of my skin, but he’s there to soothe me with kisses and soft caresses, a perfect counterpoint to the sharp, almost painful pleasure of having him rub my pussy.

He brings his other hand between my shoulder blades and leans me back, urging me to put my weight—and trust—in his hands. I’m so open like this, and I close my eyes against the raindrops. Vark leans over me, pushes up my tunic, and latches his mouth around my nipple.

I catch my cry of surprise in time, biting my hand to stifle it. I squirm, but Vark doesn’t relent—he sucks my nipple hard, drawing sensations from me I’ve never felt before. At the same time, he rolls his callused fingertips over my pearl. I dig my fingers into his hair, tugging at the thick black strands, and he groans against my skin, the sound of a man in pain.

Then he pinches my pearl between two fingers, and tips me over the edge. The glass wall shatters, and I fly, pleasure pulsing through my body. My back bows, and my hips jerk violently, but Vark holds me firmly, coaxing more from me. My pussy clenches around nothing, and I wish at that moment that he’d undo his own pants and impale me on his thick length. I’m so wet I could take all of him, I’m sure of it, but he keeps himself contained, only giving me what I need.

Vark teases and licks me until I’m a shaking, whimpering mess in his arms. He pulls his fingers from my pants and licks away my cream, then rights my tunic and tucks me against his chest. His heart beats strong under my cheek, and mine syncs to it, seeming to throb through my entire body.

I bury my face in his cloak and inhale deeply. “Vark?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

It’s a gut reaction to what happened, and it makes him laugh, his shoulders shaking silently as he holds on to me. I grin, too, my mind drowsy with pleasure. Small aftershocks of my climax burst like fireworks in my core, sending shivers down my limbs.

I only close my eyes for a moment, but when I open them next, I’m wrapped in a blanket, still pressed up against Vark. The heat of him radiates through me—but my back is damp and cold.

I peer from under the heavy blanket and blink at the relentless rain pouring onto the twilit road. Vark has his hands firmly on the reins, his expression grim.

“What is it?” I squirm away from him.

He tucks me back into his chest. “Stay down. It’s too cold for you to sit next to me.”

I raise my eyebrows at this but decide to let him have his way.

“The road is a mess,” he adds in a growl. “Humans are so bad at maintaining them.”

I glance at the rutted road, now filled with puddles and mud. “Will we get stuck?”

He grimaces. “I hope not. It’s less than a mile to the village where we’ll stay tonight.”

He keeps his attention firmly on the road, maneuvering the horses around the widest of the holes. We’re traveling more slowly now, the wagons in front of us experiencing similar problems.

“I should get Wren. She must be frightened.”

A lightning bolt splits the darkness and thunder shakes the air several seconds later.

Vark shakes his head. “We can’t afford to stop the wagons. Right now, our weight rolling forward is what’s keeping us going.”

I bite my lip, wishing I’d thought of this earlier. But no—I was too busy riding Vark’s hand to notice that this might become an issue. Guilt swamps me, hot and unpleasant. I should be taking care of my daughter, not chasing pleasure with him.

“Whatever you are thinking, stop,” Vark rumbles.

His words are startling enough to break through my spinning thoughts. “What?”

“Your scent changed,” he explains. “It grows more stringent when you’re…whatever you’re feeling now.”

I rub my face in embarrassment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you with this.”

Vark hums thoughtfully. “You aren’t bothering me, Hazel. You can tell me anything that’s on your mind.”

I almost tell him where he can stick his nosiness, but I don’t think that’s what he’s doing. He’s not prying—his concern seems genuine.

“I’m worried about Wren. That she’ll think I’m trying to pawn her off to others because I don’t want her anymore,” I admit.

He ponders this, then asks, “Are you trying to pawn her off?”

“No!” I cry, leaning back to glare at him. “How could you even say that?”

“Then she will know this, too,” he says calmly. “Children are very good at sensing our emotions. Wren knows you love her, so she’s comfortable being away from you. She knows she can come back anytime.”

I’m struck silent, his words hitting hard. My eyes well with tears, mixing with the rainwater pouring down on us.

Finally, I croak, “You really think so?”

He nods. “If she was afraid of losing you, she would cling to your side.”

“All right. Thank you.” Sniffing, I wipe my face with my sleeve. “How do you know so much about children?”

Vark gives me a small smile. “Orc children are similar to human ones. Only greener.”

I poke him in the ribs. “Funny. But I meant, do you have—?”

I stop myself, chewing on my thought. I don’t think he has children. He didn’t mention any other woman in his life—not that I asked. But now that the thought has occurred to me, my mind whirrs with possibilities. What if he already has a partner—maybe not a mate but a woman with whom he’d created a family? And now he’s here with me because fate decided that I should be his mate?

“You’re thinking too much again,” Vark murmurs without looking down at me.

“Do you have children?” I blurt out. “Because if you have a family, this has to stop. I didn’t know—”

I fall silent as he shakes his head. He concentrates on the road, driving the wagon around a slick of mud, urging the horses to walk at a steady pace. Then he meets my gaze, his expression serious.

“There is no one but you,” he says. “And orcs cannot have children unless it’s with their mate.”

I stare at him, stunned. “What do you mean?”

He grimaces, his scar pulling the skin of his face to the side. “That’s how things are. Only mated couples can have children. Usually, a lot of them.” He peers at me. “I am not saying we have to. But you needn’t worry about breaking up my family or anything like that. I have none.”

I remember Ozork saying his parents passed away within a short period of time. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to stir up bad stuff for you.”

Vark lets out a long exhale. “You didn’t, Hazel. You don’t understand how orcs are. I don’t blame you—you knew nothing about our ways. But the moment I scented you, my life gained a new Northern star. A new meaning. You are my family now. As is Wren, because you love her. And if you want, I can be your family, too.”

My chest tightens at his words, even as warmth spreads through my veins. He called me his Northern star. No one has ever said anything like that to me before, and I don’t know how to reply. I only know that I feel as if that same star exploded inside me, filling me with light.

Vark clears his throat. “Well, then. Here we are.”

I twitch in his lap. “Where?”

He lowers the blanket, and I get a good look at the world around me. We’re driving into a village, a fairly large one with houses built of stone and wood. The main street is even cobbled, and the horses’ hooves clop loudly past several small shops until we reach the wide courtyard of a country inn.

I gaze up at Vark, trying to come up with a good answer to what he said, but his gaze sharpens, and he clicks his tongue impatiently. Then he grabs my hips and lifts me off him, depositing me on the cold seat next to him.

“What is it?” I ask.

He jerks his chin in the direction of the inn’s door. “We’re not the only ones seeking refuge from the storm tonight.”