Marut just stares at me for a long moment. Then he drags a palm over his face and curses softly under his breath.
“Remember,” he murmurs. “If you want to stop…”
“I’ll tell you,” I breathe.
He fits himself between my spread thighs. “Good girl. Now lift your knees all the way to your chest. I might brush up against you, is that all right?”
I nod, breaths sawing in and out of my lungs. “Yes. Just—don’t grab me, and I’ll be fine.”
I’m so exposed, and the position is slightly awkward, but he’s watching me as if I’m the most riveting thing in the world. His next breath fans over my wet pussy as he lowers himself in front of me.
“Your scent, Violet…”
He’s so close, so godsdamned close—
His warm, rough tongue dips between my spread fingers, and he licks the most intimate part of me. I cry out, then turn my face into the blankets to muffle the sound. The sensation is unimaginably good, and I know that this is what my body needed, what I needed but didn’t know how to ask for.
Marut drags the flat of his tongue over the sensitive pearl of flesh at the top of my pussy, then circles it with the tip. He knows exactly what to do, and I feel a surge of insane jealousy over the thought of where he learned to play a woman’s body like that. I want to demand that he should never even think of doing that to anyone else again, but from how absorbed he is in pleasuring me, I don’t believe that will be an issue.
Then I forget to think at all because he’s slowly driving me mad with soft licks and swirls. The pressure inside me builds, and I squirm under him, my hips bucking up to chase the contact. My inner thighs close around his head, and it registers vaguely that this counts as touching, too, but I don’t care, because Marut groans against my flesh and kisses the inside of my thigh, his tusks scraping the soft skin.
“Violet,” he pants. “I’m going to blow. You taste too good, love. Can I touch myself?”
I raise myself on my elbows and spread my thighs again to see better. “Touch yourself?”
Then I notice his hand on the waistband of his leather pants. And the thought of him pleasuring himself while he’s doing the same to me is too wonderful for me to reject him.
“Yes,” I breathe. “But…”
I can’t voice the thought, though. It’s too scandalous, and I’m sure ladies aren’t meant to want that at all. What will he think of me?
“But what?” he demands, his voice rough. “Tell me.”
I must be mad, because I take a deep breath and murmur, “I want to see.” I motion at his pants. “You know. When you finish.”
Marut’s nostrils flare wide, and he points at me. “Lie back. Now, Violet.”
The barely leashed violence of his command sweeps away the last of my worries. He’s not shocked by my wish, as I thought he would be. He is so attuned to me. I relax onto the sleeping pallets and bare myself to him, and he dives in, his lips fusing to my pussy.
This time, there are no gentle licks. He sucks on my pearl, and a bolt of blinding pleasure shoots through me. My throat locks on a cry, and I curl around Marut’s head, squeezing him close, not wanting to let go. My limbs tremble from the exquisite sensation, but he doesn’t let me go—he licks and sucks that small part of me until I’m a sobbing mess.
When at last I collapse on the blankets, completely spent, Marut rears up to his knees and shoves down his leather pants. In the dark, I can’t see him well, but I sense how large his cock is when he wraps his big hand around it and strokes.
Each tug is faster, and I marvel at how rough he is with himself. Is that how he would be with me as well? My wet pussy clenches instinctively at the thought, but I don’t hate the idea. He said it would hurt at first but he’d make it better for me, and I trust him to make good on that promise.
Now, I sit up so I don’t miss anything—I know the basics of how babies are made, but we’d have to be joined for that, and no one ever told me a man could do this without being inside a woman.
But then no one told me that I’d get so much pleasure from having my pussy licked by my husband either.
Marut’s harsh breaths warm the air between us, and he towers over me. His hips rock forward, matching the rhythm of his hand, and I’m mesmerized by the way his broad cockhead peeks from his palm with every stroke. The cock is long and thick, and I know it must be as green as the rest of Marut’s skin, but in the poor light, it’s just dark, hidden by the shadow of his body.
Seated as I am, my face is almost level with his cock, and the sharp scent of him, so similar to Marut’s delicious scent but somehow more, sends a shiver down my back.
Would he taste as good as he smells?
I look up at him to find him staring at me. Even when he’s pleasuring himself, all his attention is on me, and it’s a heady realization. I bite my lip, wondering if I have enough courage to suggest what must be a most deviant idea… I want to see if he’ll get as much pleasure from being licked as I did.
“Hold still,” I whisper.
Marut frowns but stops his movements immediately. “Violet. Now’s not a good time to—”
I lean in and press my lips to the crown of his cock. It’s warm to the touch and slick with fluid. I draw back and lick my lips, tasting Marut’s essence for the first time.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “Y-you don’t know what you’re doing, love.”
I give the cockhead another kiss, then bring my tongue out to lap at the small slit on top. Marut’s hips rock forward, so he nudges at my lips, but he retreats immediately, cursing under his breath.
I peer up at him. “Do you not want to…?”
His hand clenches around his cock in a way that must surely be painful. He drags in an inhale through his nose, then blows out the breath as if bracing himself for torture.
“I do. Gods, you don’t know how much. But I was going to blow into my shirt,” he murmurs. “I haven’t done this— Fuck, I don’t think I’ll last.”
He seems almost distressed, fumbling for his words, so I slowly reach out and put my hand on his hip, my palm meeting hard muscle and warm, supple skin. He shudders at the contact but doesn’t move away, which I take as a good sign.
“Why are you worried?” I whisper.
“There will be a lot of cum,” he bites out. “I don’t want to scare you.”
Cum.
That must be the liquid flowing from the tip of his cock. It beads at the slit, then drips on the blankets between us, one slow drop at a time.
“That’s all right,” I say. “I-I like it.”
Marut growls. It’s a feral, dangerous sound, and it sends goosebumps all over my body. But he doesn’t push me back into the covers—he doesn’t even twitch a muscle. He merely waits for my next move.
So I gather my courage and lean in again, bracing myself on Marut’s hip. I kiss and lick the thick head, listening to the subtle changes in my husband’s breathing, in how he responds to me.
“Take my cock in your mouth,” he demands suddenly. “Take as much as you can, then suck me.”
My nipples tighten with want at the crude words, and I look up at him as I obey the order. I let the spit-slicked shaft glide past my lips and open my jaw wide, but I realize soon enough why he told me to take as much as I can—because I couldn’t possibly take the entire length.
The taste of him is exquisite, salty and potent and somehow uniquely his. I sense more of the cum slipping down my tongue and eagerly swallow it all, inwardly scoffing at Marut’s worry about the quantity of it. It’s his thickness that’s an issue, not the amount of the cum he’s producing.
“Violet,” he pants, “you’re doing so well, love. Don’t stop. Gods, please don’t stop.”
His gaze is fixed on me, his lips parted, his braids falling over his shoulders as he curls his body over mine. On the next stroke, I hollow my cheeks and suck his cock as he instructed me to, and Marut groans, his hand moving over the bottom of his shaft, where he seems to be thicker. But I don’t want to focus on his hand—I need to see him, his face, and witness his pleasure the way he did with me.
“I’m going to come,” he groans. “Violet, fuck—”
His big body tenses, and he snaps his hips forward, as if unable to keep himself in check. I retreat slightly to keep from choking, and the first wave of his release hits the tip of my tongue.
It’s hot and sweet, richer in flavor than the fluid that I’d tasted earlier—and there is a lot of it. I swallow quickly, but he’s still coming, filling my mouth too fast, and I slip away from him on a gasp. Marut jerks his cock roughly, and more of his release splashes on my naked chest, my belly, down to my naked thighs. I gulp down what’s in my mouth and go to take him again, but he sinks back on his heels, head hanging, his hand now only holding his cock without moving.
His chest heaves with sharp breaths, and he lets out a low groan that has me squirming in place. If my climax was powerful and all-encompassing, his was almost violent, as if he’d been restraining himself for a very long time.
And maybe he has. I guess he learned what he knows from someone, but he’s been searching for a mate, so maybe that means it’s been a while for him. A satisfied smile curls my lips at the idea that I was the one who made him come this hard—and this much.
Finally, I look down at myself, at the mess of my half-naked body and untied nightgown, and I can’t help but laugh.
Marut lifts his head, his dark eyes glimmering. “What?”
I motion at myself. “You did warn me. But I didn’t quite believe you until now.”
His tusks flash white as he grins. “Aye, that’s how orcs are.”
He tucks his cock back in his pants with quick movements, and I can’t help but notice he’s still hard, and that his laces strain when he does them up. Then he leans over me where I’m reclining back on the blankets, his body bracketing mine but never touching.
“I need to get cleaned up,” I whisper.
I’m not certain what the protocol is after being splashed with my husband’s release, but his cum is slowly cooling, and I can’t stay this way forever. What I find most interesting is that I don’t mind it at all—as if this doesn’t count as touching, perhaps. Nor did the way I squeezed my thighs around him when I climaxed for some reason. I’ve done more touching with Marut in the last couple of days than I have with anyone in a decade, and now I wonder how much more I could take.
It makes me want to try.
“I’ll clean you,” Marut murmurs. He sits by my side and takes his shirt, then slowly runs it over my thighs. “Is this all right?”
It’s not quite touching, because there’s a barrier of soft linen between his skin and mine, and it doesn’t bother me, so I nod. “It was clever of you to suggest kissing me.” I watch as he wipes up first my left thigh, then my right. “I really enjoyed that.”
His answering hum is almost a purr, a low rumble in his chest. I wish I could put my ear to his sternum and listen to it more closely.
“That’s good news, little bird,” he says. “I will show you more.”
The promise is filled with so much meaning, I shiver at his words. “All right,” I whisper. “I’d like that.”
Marut glances up at me. “You want the truth?”
His gaze is so intense, so dark, that I hesitate for a moment, then nod anyway.
“I fucking hate seeing this cum go to waste,” he confesses.
I glance at where he’s stopped wiping me clean just above the curls covering my pussy. “Why?”
He moves the wadded-up shirt lower and presses it between my legs. Instinctively, I arch my hips slightly, rocking into his touch. Then I squeak, embarrassment surging through me at how wanton I am. But Marut only holds his hand over the cloth, waiting me out until I take a deep breath and relax under his care.
“I want to scoop it all up,” he murmurs. “And push it inside you. I want to see you grow round with my child, Violet.”
I shiver at his words. “I’d like that, too.”
“You will tell me when you’re ready,” he commands. “And I will fill your pussy until you’re dripping, my mate. Again and again, until you’re pregnant.”
I spread my knees just slightly, about to suggest we give it a try right now. But before I can, Marut lets out a rough exhale and moves the shirt up my body to wipe away his cum from my breasts. The moment is gone, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. I don’t know if I’m ready to take that final step with him, but my body seems to like the idea. A lot.
Sighing, I sit up and tie the laces of my nightgown. Miraculously, it survived tonight.
A swish of the tent canvas has me turning around, and I realize Marut has left the tent without a word. My heart pangs until I notice he took my warming brick with him—and true enough, he returns moments later with a hot, fresh one wrapped in a cloth for me.
“So you’ll be comfortable,” he murmurs and tucks it between the blankets at my feet. “Good night, Violet.”
