Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
"And Turnip."
He snorts with amusement. "I'm trying to forget that one."
I smile up at him. Hearing about his past doesn't bother me. It's in the past, like he said. And in a strange way, I understand. I never thought I'd have a husband, so I haven't prepared myself at all for what a marriage entails. Of course he wouldn't think of a bride. Most of Adassia still thinks orcs are legends, mountain beasts in stories told to frighten children. I never thought I'd marry, much less marry an orc. "From this day forward it's only me, though, right?"
Agakor gazes down at me in surprise. "Gods. Yes, Iolanthe. Only you. I can't believe you'd have to ask. After touching you, you've ruined me for all other women." He reaches down and caresses my cheek. "And our marriage vows are sacred. I'll cleave to you and you cleave to me."
I lean into his touch, feeling warm and desired. "I just wanted to make sure. Some lords have a wife for show and a mistress for fun. I…don't think I'd like that."
"No mistresses. No lovers. No one but you." His fervent words sound beautiful to my ears.
Beaming, I impulsively lean in and kiss the head of his cock. After all, it is right there.
He sucks in a breath, his big body going still.
"Was that wrong?" I ask timidly. I lick my lips, because the tip of him was wet, and the salty flavor begs to be tasted. It's not the most pleasant of tastes, but it's fascinating in how sharp it is, as if it's conveying to me with its boldness just how strong his need is.
"Not wrong," he reassures me, tone brusque. "Felt good. I was just…surprised. You sure you want to do this?"
Is he going to keep asking me? Do ladies not want to do this to their husbands? Or is it because he's half-orc and thinks he doesn't deserve my touch? Either way, I can't help but think of how good he was with me in our bed last night. How he made me feel so good and so comfortable before putting his mouth on me, and how incredible it had felt.
Of course I want to do the same for him. It's exciting to think that I could give him even half as much pleasure as he gave me.
"I want to do this," I reassure him. Reaching out, I touch a fingertip to the head of his cock again. Agakor relaxes a bit, caressing my face as I touch him. I want to look at his cock, but the way he's devouring me with his eyes makes it hard to look away from him. "You'd tell me if something I did wasn't okay?"
This time he chuckles, his thumb stroking over my cheek. "I don't think you could do anything that wasn't okay with me. Even biting. Sometimes orcs like it rough."
Biting? I blink down at his cock. "I'm not sure I should bite you."
"Of course not, sweet." He gives me a rueful smile. "I'm just talking in general. Hells, I'm just rambling because I can't concentrate on anything but your hand on me."
That sounds…exciting. I think about how it felt when he had his hands between my thighs, all oiled up and slick, and I squirm on the pillow. I press my legs together and focus on his thick shaft in front of me. The head of him bobs tantalizingly close to my face and I feel the insane urge to kiss it again. I stroke my fingers over him, petting and learning the feel of him. His cock is impossibly thick, the head tapered and protruding from the darker foreskin that sleeves it. As I stroke my fingers lightly over him again, the foreskin retreats back a little more, his cock seemingly harder and longer than before.
A droplet, barely visible in the darkness, beads on the tip.
I lick my lips again and glance up at him. "Can I taste you?"
"Oh, Iolanthe," he murmurs, and his thumb traces my lower lip. "I would love that."
I lean forward and lick the tip of him again. This time I'm anticipating the strong taste of him, and I don't pull back when the flavor hits my tongue. I lap up the salty drop, and his breath hitches. Another one appears, so I do it again, and then I keep my tongue there, swirling it around the head because he seems to like that. I glance up at him as I do, and his eyes are so dark in the shadows, his mouth parted. He should be utterly terrifying, but instead, I'm oddly thrilled. I love that he can't look away from me. I love that he keeps stroking my cheek and the legs I lean against feel tense. I love that his entire focus is on me and my mouth. I've never felt so alive as I do in this moment, so in control.