I stand rooted to the spot, unwilling to face the orc behind me. Is this the moment he goes back on his word and ravishes me?
His deep sigh is the only warning before his hands take my shoulders. He turns me, still keeping hold of me, and stares down into my eyes.
“I will not hurt you,” he says, and the words have the power of an oath.
They’re low and sincere, spoken just for me, and gods help me, I believe him.
“All right,” I whisper.
He lets go, floats back a pace, and reaches for a cake of soap. “Here. Wash yourself.”
Right. Because I still smell, despite that hasty clean-up from before. Blushing, I take the soap from him and lather my hands, then sit on the ledge to methodically wash every limb. Gorvor does the same on his side of the pool. He dips his head underwater and washes his long black hair, then disappears beneath the surface again to rinse himself off. In the low candlelight, his body turns into a sculpted work of art, water sluicing down his powerful arms.
I take a deep breath and dive under, raking my fingers through my hair to thoroughly wet it. When I surface, Gorvor is watching me intently.
“I want to wash your hair,” he says.
It’s not really a question, nor is it a plea, and yet he waits for my answer. It’s that hesitation on his part that convinces me to allow it. Big as he is, he could have easily overpowered me and taken whatever he wishes, but even though he has no sense of privacy, he is curbing his will to make me feel safe.
So I give him a small nod and face away from him. Gentle waves lap at my skin as he steps closer. He takes the soap from me, and the rhythmic slide and squelch tells me he’s rubbing it between his palms. He soaps up the crown of my head first, then works the lather into my hair, rubbing my scalp with strong fingers. He moves this way and that, making sure he doesn’t miss anything, and the look of concentration on his serious face has me stifling an unexpected smile.
It feels good. The last person to wash my hair had been my mother, and almost two decades have passed since then. She was never a loving parent, and I’d had to learn to take care of myself quite young. But tonight, I don’t want to think about her.
Not when my orc mate is doing his best to lull me into a stupor with his skilled hands.
“Is this enough?” he asks, his voice gruff.
“Yes.” I press my palm to the center of his chest for a brief second. “Thank you.”
Before he can say anything more or touch me again, I dip my head under, washing away the suds. When I resurface, I find Gorvor has retreated to the other side of the pool and is relaxed against the edge, his head tipped back, his black gaze on me.
I bite my lip, unsure of how to say what I need to say. Then I decide to go for the truth, because orcs don’t seem to be scandalized by anything.
“I want you to turn around,” I say, raising my chin a little. “I need to wash my private parts.”
The king smirks at me. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” I splutter.
“No.”
He moves one hand from where it was leaning on the edge of the pool and dips it in the water. I can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but given what I just said to him, I can definitely imagine.
“Oh gods, will you stop?” I slap a hand over my eyes and retreat until the ledge pokes me in the backs of my thighs. Then I peer through my fingers. “You can’t do that!”
He gives me a lazy, heated grin. “Why not?”
With his hair slicked back and his posture so relaxed, he’s the image of sin. And his arm is still moving in sinuous, slow jerks.
Just how thoroughly is he washing that—that thing?
“Wash yourself, Dawn,” he purrs. “I don’t mind.”
I sink to my neck again and keep my suspicious gaze on him. If he so much as breathes in my direction, I’ll poke him in the eye. Which is silly, considering that he was so very close earlier when he washed my hair. But with this orc, I seem to oscillate from one extreme to the other, wanting him close one moment and hating the thought of his touch the next.
Slowly, careful not to disturb the water, I reach between my legs and give myself a tentative stroke.
It’s just washing. You’ve done it a thousand times before.
But it’s not. Not when Gorvor stills on his side of the pool, every ounce of his attention trained on me. I attempt another swipe, and he groans softly, his shoulders bunching with tension.
“How does it feel?” he asks in a low voice.
“What?” I still with my hand on my belly, confusion coursing through me.
He leans forward, though he doesn’t leave his spot. “How does it feel when you tease yourself?”
“Um.” I push my damp hair away from my face, unsure of what he’s talking about. “Tease myself?”
The king narrows his eyes at me. “Are you a virgin?”
“No,” I reply truthfully.
I’d sold that privilege to a rich merchant’s son when he and his father had stayed at the inn where I’d worked. The last winter had been bitter and long, and my wages from sweeping the rooms, emptying chamber pots, and washing bed linens were barely enough to keep me fed. I’d wanted a new cloak and a pair of good leather boots, lined with wool, so I’d bargained with the young fool and won enough money to buy a scarf and mittens, too. I didn’t care about being intact for my future husband, because I’d had no intention of marrying anyone. I only got whatever I could in exchange for it.
Now I worry for the first time that this orc might have expected his bride to be innocent on what has become our wedding night, for all intents and purposes.
But Gorvor gives me a satisfied nod. “Good. So what did the men you slept with do to make you ready for them?”
I clear my throat. “There was just the one man. And he hiked up my skirts and, well…”
I motion with my hand to indicate that he’d wedged himself between my legs and rutted there for a short period of time before collapsing with a grunt. I’d felt some discomfort, a pinching pain, but it hadn’t been too horrible. My whispered conversations with the other maids have taught me that my experience was much the norm. Sexual relations are an unpleasant but sometimes necessary burden, and as long as we drink our special teas and don’t get pregnant, it isn’t much to talk about.
Gorvor drags his palm over his face. “No wonder you don’t want me to touch you.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
He leans against the edge but keeps his burning gaze on me. “Human men keep their women ignorant and unsatisfied, and yet you tell stories about how backward orcs are, aye?”
I scoot back on the underwater ledge, wondering where he’s going with this. “Maybe?”
“I will not touch you until you beg me to,” he rumbles. “But will you touch yourself if I teach you?”
“Touch myself?” I swallow, worry rising in me again. “How?”
“Trust me, Dawn,” he replies. “Just for this?”
I nod, unsure of what he’s talking about. Because I do trust him. A warm sensation has sprouted up in my chest, something new and unexpected. Every promise this orc has made me, he has kept, which is more than I can say for most humans I’ve met in my life—male or female.
“Good,” Gorvor says. “Now bring your hand back between your legs.”
Shivering despite the warm water, I obey his order. I keep my gaze on him, tracking his movements to see where this is going.
“If you slip your fingers between your lower lips, you’ll feel how slick you are there,” he continues.
I do as he says, trailing my middle finger through my most intimate place.
“Just like that,” he growls.
I gasp as realization hits me. “You can see what I’m doing?”
His grin is broad and unrepentant. “Orcs see much better than humans.”
“Oh!” I wrap one arm around my naked breasts and cover my sex with my other hand. “You—you—”
“You’re beautiful, Dawn,” he says. “Never hide yourself from me. Remember, you said you trusted me. Let me make you feel good.”
The intensity of his voice melts some of my embarrassment. He sounds so earnest about this, I’m getting more and more curious about what he could mean.
“What do I do now?” I ask, and my words come out soft, inquisitive.
The king gives me an approving look. “At the top of your pussy, you’ll find a little bud. A sensitive pearl of flesh. Run your finger lightly over it.”
I bite my lip as I follow his instructions. The expressions he’s using are crude, but I don’t mind. This is my body, and exploring it feels nice. And there, right where he said it would be, is a small, tight pearl, as he’d called it. I circle it with my fingertip, and a shudder runs through my limbs. “Oh!”
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “Now stay there. And do with it what feels good. Maybe you’ll want to press down. Or flick it. Or rub over it. Try. Now.”
The low timbre of his voice is almost hypnotic, and I do as he says until I find the right amount of pressure, the right rhythm. My legs part on their own, and a new, delicious warmth spreads from my core.
“Keep doing that,” he says. “The pleasure will build.”
“It’s building,” I gasp. “I like it, Gorvor.”
Another tremor shakes me, and I close my eyes, letting my head fall back on the edge of the pool.
“Open your eyes, little mate.”
The king’s voice sounds closer. I glance up to find him standing in the middle of the pool. Almost close enough to touch. The water covers him to his chest, but I can still see the movements of his right arm, rhythmic and jerky.
“What are you doing?” I ask, breathless.
“I’m jerking my cock, watching you,” he growls. “You are so damn beautiful.”
Jerking his—oh gods, why is this so good?
“Does it feel like what I’m doing?” I force myself to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss even a second of this.
He hisses a breath through his teeth. “Aye. I want to sink my cock in your pretty little pussy. You’d take me so well, Dawn. All of me. But not tonight because you need to do this for yourself.”
The pressure inside me rises, and I thrash my head from side to side, wanting something I can’t name, can’t reach.
“Gorvor, I need—” I frown at him, desperate. “I don’t know what I need!”
“Shh,” he says, slowing the movements of his hand. “Take your other hand between your legs. And push a finger into your pussy.”
“Into it?” My voice hitches over those words. “But—”
“Trust me,” he urges, forcing the command out through his teeth. “Do it now.”
Trembling with anticipation, I slowly slide my middle finger through my folds. The intrusion feels strange for a moment but not unpleasant. Nothing like the time when that man—no, that boy—did it. My pussy is slick and hot, and so, so sensitive.
Gorvor says, “Now hook your finger forward.”
I frown in concentration. It’s hard keeping up with my other hand and doing this as well, and I’m about to tell him that, but at that moment, I touch some hidden spot inside me that has every muscle in my body locking up.
I open my mouth on a silent moan, and when I repeat the movement, my vision tunnels from pleasure until Gorvor is all I see.
“Oh gods!” I roll my finger pad over my bud, faster and faster. “I can’t take any more of this.”
“You can. Don’t stop.”
He crowds in next to me, but I’m so far gone I don’t mind it anymore. He runs his nose over my temple and drags in a breath. The deep growl that reverberates through the room loosens something inside me. Gorvor’s jerks quicken, his harsh breaths heating my skin.
Then a bright ball of pleasure bursts in my core, and I cry out in shock and delight. My pussy squeezes around my finger, and another flick over my pearl sends me flying. It’s the most exquisite feeling I’ve ever experienced, and I have nothing to compare it with. I rock my hips over and over, prolonging it as much as I can because I don’t want to let it go.
Next to me, Gorvor snarls and hunches his shoulders, his big body shaking. If his…finish was anything like mine, I’m surprised he’s still standing. Suddenly, I’m curious to see him do this out of the water, where I could witness what goes into making this hard, serious man lose his composure.
The king hums softly and draws me into his arms. My body feels loose and heavy, with sparks of pleasure still dancing through my veins. The warm slide of his skin against mine is incredible, so I wind my arms around Gorvor’s neck and let him lift me from the water. His expression doesn’t change, but that new awareness inside my chest blooms stronger.
He sets me on his bed and wraps a large bath sheet around me and another one around his waist. I’m too tired to protest, but disappointment lances through me when he hides himself from my view.
Tomorrow, then.
I never thought I’d end up like this, but at this moment, I can’t bring myself to regret it. Not when Gorvor gently rubs my skin with the linen cloth, nor when he sits behind me and passes a coarse comb through my hair. He gives me privacy to use the toilet hidden behind what I thought was a wall tapestry, a small nook with more running water that washes away all the unpleasantness. And I certainly don’t complain when he helps me lie on his bed, on the soft mattress, and covers me with a light wool blanket.
“Sleep well, little mate,” he murmurs.
The last thing I know before sleep takes me under is the shifting of the bed on the other side.
