A curse sounds behind me, and footsteps pound on the path, coming closer and closer. I don’t know what I thought would happen, but of course Steagor is gaining on me by the second—he’s so much larger and faster, and he’s not wearing these blasted skirts either.
I toss a glance over my shoulder and find him mere feet behind me. I shriek and dive off the path, into the forest, running now because I can’t well stop and let him catch me—that goes against every self-preservation instinct in my body. A dangerous predator is after me, and I’ll do everything in my power to avoid getting caught.
I zigzag through the trees, breathing hard, and I know I’ll never reach the Hill. We’ve traveled too far from it already. But maybe I could climb a tree, a slender one that would make it impossible for him to climb up after me.
I search around for something—anything—that could save me, my blood pumping rapidly through my veins, my stomach in knots, but before I can decide which way to go, a weight slams into me, knocking me off my feet.
Steagor’s arms wrap around my middle like a steel trap, and he rolls midair so he lands on his back with me safely tucked against his chest. The fall still jars my teeth, and I flail wildly, trying to get away from him.
“Stop,” he grunts into my hair.
His command only has me struggling harder, and he tumbles me over, pinning me to the forest floor strewn with pine needles and fallen leaves.
“You can’t run from me,” he snarls.
Oh, can’t I?
My brain rebels at his statement. He doesn’t own me, and if he wants to get rid of me, I have no obligation to obey him either. I buck my hips, trying to dislodge him, but he presses his weight into me, and I still.
It’s the prey instinct coming to life in me after all. I freeze, barely daring to breathe, even as I curl my fingers into the leaves to find purchase.
Steagor is all around me, his hot breath on my cheek, his hard, muscular chest flush with my back. And at my ass…
I rock my hips back, and he hisses, then rolls his body forward, so his hard cock rubs between my ass cheeks, only the leather of his pants and the fabric of my dress separating us. If he freed it and flicked up my dress, he could be inside me in seconds—inside my clenching, slick pussy.
I must be mad. Just days ago, I’d discovered that he was not a human but an orc more than a foot taller than me, and here I am, panting for him. But I can’t help it. Because everything about this situation is working for me. Exhilarated from the chase, I arch my back.
“Stop that,” Steagor demands. “Stop…”
But he seems to be losing the battle, too. His hips rock over mine, and he drags in a breath through his teeth. He groans into my hair, then moves his nose to my temple, inhaling deeply. His arms loosen around me, and for a moment, I think he might let me go, but instead, he finds my breasts with both palms, cupping their full weight.
My bones go liquid, and I melt into his touch, whimpering with need. He tugs down the low neckline of my dress—and we’re skin to skin, his hot, rough palms kneading my delicate flesh. He finds my nipples with his blunt fingers and pinches them, hard, and I cry out, thrusting my ass back to meet the rocking of his hips.
Suddenly, Steagor rears up, releasing me. I glance over my shoulder, desperate for more contact, to find him unlacing the front of his pants. He shoves them down, and I gape.
His cock is huge. I expected the green skin, of course, but the size of it, erect and weeping at the tip…my body tenses, both in desire and fear. Wouldn’t he tear me apart if he shoved that inside me? He’s so thick, too, and at the very bottom of the long shaft is…
“What is that?” I breathe.
Steagor puts a hand in the middle of my back and pushes me back down so I have to face the ground. He flicks up my skirts and tears away the remnants of my linen underwear with one savage tug.
“That’s a knot, Poppy,” he says, his voice guttural. “And you want it, don’t you? You want my cock in your pretty pink pussy?”
My breath shudders out of me. “Y-yes.”
I stutter, because my brain is screaming for me to run again, but my body loosens, growing soft at the prospect of having it inside me. If Steagor’s fingers felt so good earlier, what would it be like to be stuffed full of that?
He palms the globes of my ass, spreading me rudely. “I’m not giving it to you.”
Regret slams into me, sharp and bitter. I manage to twist enough to look up at his face. “Why not?”
I’m ready for him. Wet, and growing more so by the second, wishing he’d bury his length inside me. He slips his fingers down my crack to my pussy. One thick finger pushes inside me, and I clamp down around it, then sway back, searching for the friction.
“I’d hurt you,” he murmurs. “You’re not ready.”
I want to protest that I am, that he can push inside me whenever he wants, but he adds another finger, and there’s a slight pinch of discomfort where I’m sore from before.
Damn him, he’s right.
I want to touch him, but he presses between my shoulder blades again, keeping me in place. Then the pressure at my back disappears, so I sneak a peek at him again—and gasp. He has wrapped his hand around his cock and is moving it in the rhythm of his thrusts inside me. His palm goes down to the thick, bulging knot at the base, where he gives himself a squeeze, then slides right up to the tip. He collects the liquid at the head and smears it over his length, again and again.
“Does it turn you on?” he asks. “Watching my cock?”
I snap my gaze up to his face. He’s watching me intently, his frown in place, his lips parted. And I can’t lie to him, no matter how strange all this still is to me.
It’s also the most natural thing in the world. Having Steagor’s fingers curling deep in my pussy, kindling the fire again.
“Yes. But I—” I struggle to find the words.
“You need more?”
I nod frantically. He thrusts his hips forward as if he can’t help himself, and more of the white liquid slips from the tip. I have the strangest urge to taste it, to close my mouth around that broad, dark-green head and pleasure him like he did for me earlier.
“Touch yourself,” he commands.
My breath stutters. “Touch?”
“Where I licked you,” he pants, hunching his broad shoulders. “Rub your pearl.”
My pearl.
That’s one order I obey instantly. I shove my hand under my body and find my weeping pussy, brushing my knuckles over Steagor’s hot fingers, which are buried so deep inside me. Then I find that spot he teased. The first touch of my fingertips has me crying out as glimmering pleasure skitters down my limbs.
That’s what I needed. This exact sensation, paired with Steagor’s sliding thrusts.
“Ah, sweet, you’re squeezing me already,” he growls above me.
“Harder,” I beg. “Please!”
He shoves another finger inside me, and I’m so full I can barely breathe. He’s panting hard behind my back, his movements growing frantic. My fingers slip and slide clumsily over my pearl, and I hover at that edge, so close to grasping the pleasure.
Then Steagor roars. I twist my head to look at him, alarmed. He arches his powerful back and fucks his fist roughly, then erupts, shooting long strings of white over my ass, my thighs, spilling on the leaves surrounding us. He thrusts his fingers inside me one more time, but it’s his expression of pure abandon that tips me into pleasure.
I flick my fingers harder over my pearl, and a fire burns through me, consuming all my thoughts. My pussy clenches around Steagor’s fingers—I want him to take them out and replace them with his cock. I want to know what it feels like to have him come inside me, and the image of that sends me to another crest, screaming.
It takes me long minutes to come back to myself. I lie on the forest floor, ass still in the air, Steagor’s seed cooling on my naked skin. He pulls his fingers from me gently, and I whimper, needing them back. I turn to tell him so, but I find him licking my wetness off his fingers, his expression almost pained. His cock lies spent against his leather pants, still thick and impressive.
He meets my gaze, then stares down at my ass and pussy. Slowly, as if he can’t help himself, he draws his fingers over my skin, smearing more of the seed around.
“You look so beautiful wearing my cum,” he murmurs.
My heart throbs painfully, and I don’t dare move, afraid I’ll ruin this moment—afraid he’ll remember who we are and what we were doing before I ran from him.
But he remembers it all on his own. I see the moment his reverent expression morphs back into that ever-present scowl, and he grabs my discarded underwear and swipes it over my ass and thighs, cleaning me off before I can stop him. I scramble to my knees, tug my neckline back in place, and push my skirts down, suddenly feeling the chill. Steagor gets to his feet and does up his laces.
I must look a mess, kneeling in the dirt, my hair in tangles and leaves stuck all over my clothes. But there’s a flash of something in his eyes, and the words he said in the heat of the moment… They’ll be seared into my brain forever.
You look so beautiful wearing my cum.
I shiver, both from the cold and his attention.
“Steagor,” I say quietly. “This wasn’t a mistake.”
He stares at me, unmoving. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow, hoping I won’t embarrass myself by crying right now. I can save the tears and the confusion for later, when I’m back at the Hill, safe in his bedroom.
“Come,” he says. “We have wasted enough time.”
We have wasted enough time.
My world has been rearranged, and I discovered some pretty significant truths about myself—and to him, it was a waste of time?
I don’t believe it.
It might make me the worst of fools, but I know what I saw. I’m inexperienced, not blind. He was just as affected by what we did as I was, and I don’t know why he’s pretending otherwise.
I scramble to my feet and cross my arms over my chest. “No.”
If he insists, I’ll run again—until he realizes that I’m serious about not going to that human village.
Steagor narrows his eyes. I jut out my chin in answer, defying him.
Then I lunge to the side and run once more.
