CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE（Untitled）Grace

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Grace

Oh, god. I flop back onto the furs, completely spent. I can't remember the last time I came twice in one day. In fact, I'm not sure I ever have before. A laugh bubbles up, spilling from my lips. Rumor always says gorgeous guys are horrible at sex because they don't need to make any effort to be good, but thank god Branikk didn't get the memo.

"You are amused?" He smirks up at me from between my thighs, proud of his performance, and what a performance it was. No one's ever been enthusiastic about going down on me before. It's hella great.

"Happy," I say. "I'm happy."

"Then let me attempt to make you ecstatic." He crawls slowly up my body, his long hair tickling across my skin.

"You're still clothed." I grab at his shirt. "Shit! I haven't done anything for you yet."

A bulge tents the front of his pants, and I remember what I saw at that creek. How huge he is.

How pierced .

I half sit up, and he rises with me, letting me shove his shirt up and off. God, he's so massive. He's not only a foot taller than me—which is novel enough all by itself—he's also so muscular that I feel dainty and kind of pretty. I'd never admit it to anyone, but I love it. I love that he makes me feel this way.

Also, that it feels like he can overpower me, overwhelm me. I shiver, imagining him behind me, surrounding me.

Taking me hard.

No one's ever been strong enough to give me that experience. The last guy I dated was two inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter. He was nice, but he wasn't this , the instinctive pull I feel toward Branikk.

My hands rove over his chest, tracing the lines of hard muscle. His skin is smooth and hot, the green suiting him. He is Wild Fae, a force of nature. I lean forward and lick, and his taste is salt and male and him , something uniquely Branikk.

"Grace," he growls, his hands fisting in my hair. Then he pulls me to him, his tusks nipping at my lips, demanding entrance.

I open, longing to give him anything. Everything.

He invades my mouth with a hunger such as I've never known. It's heady that he wants me so much, and his kiss leaves me breathless.

When we break apart, I cup his length with my hand, pressing the heel to the ridge of his head I can feel through the leather of his clothes.

He growls, the deep sound vibrating through me. Then his hands tear at the fastening of his pants, wrenching them open. His cock leaps, hot and hard, into my hands. My fingers close around him, bumping over the balls of the piercings. He's already leaking fluid that coats my palms with slickness.

Fire flashes through me, setting every nerve in my body tingling. I pant, "Oh, god. What is this?"

"Orc seed has aphrodisiac properties." He smirks. "All the better to prepare you for my great size."

My thighs clench, imagining this monster cock inside me. I need it.

A shiver of magic tingles in the air, and the large sphere mounted right over his cock moves. It stretches outward, breaking into several tentacles that all reach out to stroke over my hand.

My mouth drops open, shock rippling through me. It's as if someone looked into the deepest, kinkiest part of me, the part I don't even admit to myself, and pulled my favorite fantasy out into the light.

Branikk's rich chuckle rolls over me. "Would you look at that? It seems in this, as in all things, you are superb, my bride."

"What?" My eyes snap up to his. "I didn't do that!" But my protest sounds weak, even to my own ears, my eyes drifting back down to watch the tentacles.

"The stud senses what you most want and becomes it. And what you most want is this." He waves at his monster cock with tentacles snaking from the base.

Branikk shoves out of his pants so that he's fully naked. As good as he looked at that creek, he's even more glorious up close, and with his stud…

My eyes drift down, heat flushing my cheeks.

Branikk pulls me to him, crushing me to his chest so that my nipples ache with delicious pressure. He whispers into my mouth, not quite kissing me, his lips teasing, "Tell me what you want. Tell me the position you fantasize about when you touch yourself."

I gasp and start to shake my head. No one's ever cared much about my desires, my fantasies. The couple of guys I've been with acted like they were doing me some kind of favor to have any kind of sex with me, and it was always what they wanted instead.

But Branikk won't accept my silence. He nips at my lips with his tusks and growls. "I already know you want this, and it fucking delights me." He brings my hand to the tentacles and won't let me pull it away. Another nip, sharper this time, his voice vibrating with command. "Now tell me what you want."

I push through the last of my embarrassment. "I want you up behind me, just like you're behind me when we're riding."

His dark eyes search my face, his gaze so intent I feel stripped bare. He sees me, sees that there's more. "And? Tell me the rest."

"I want it hard," I whisper. "I want to be overwhelmed by you. Over…" I swallow and force out. "Overpowered. Not violence. Just… strength. I—I'm not saying it well." I shake my head, dropping my gaze.

Not that it helps my embarrassment much, because tentacles .

"Oh, my sweet Grace." His finger lifts my chin until I look at him, his voice gentle. "You never have to be embarrassed by your desires. I will give you all that you ask, always."

Then his hand slides around into my hair, tugging me up onto my knees until my back bows. And it's exactly what I want from him—not pain, but power.

"Look at your body arching for me, your breasts begging for my attention," he growls. His big fingers tweak my nipples, pulling them into aching peaks.

I whimper, pushing my chest forward, silently begging for more.

"You're so hungry, my bride. Starving. Has no one ever truly satisfied you?" His tusks scrape my nipple in a flash of sensation that leaves me gasping.

God, he sees me. Really see me—it goes beyond my naked skin. It's as if he's bared the very heart of my wants, my needs.

He pumps his cock, gathering handfuls of creamy fluid. Keeping me arched, body quivering with tension, he slicks his hands over my breasts.

Desire, hot and sharp, sets my heart racing, my mouth falling open on an endless pant.

"I'm going to paint you with my seed until pure lust burns in your veins. Make you crave me, make you smell like me. All will know you are mine ." His voice goes harsh and guttural, his cock jumping as he speaks.

Over and over, he coats my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, until I'm squirming in his grip, my scalp burning with each tug on my hair. My clit throbs, demanding touch, and my whole body tenses each time his fingers drift near, but he never goes where I want. Needy, animal noises tear from my throat, my fingers gripping his shoulders.

I want. I want. I want .

He gives a dark chuckle, his grin wicked as his fingers slick his seed up my inner thigh before stopping short. Evil, evil man.

God, I love it.

Then those huge hands are on me, turning me over onto my hands and knees, positioning me exactly where he wants me, where I want me.

He rubs more seed over my butt. "By the goddess, you're beautiful. You don't know how torturous it's been to ride with this sweet ass of yours bouncing in front of me."

Oh, I know. Just as torturous as riding with him pressed to my back for hours and hours.

His fingers glide between my thighs, teasing at my entrance for only seconds before disappearing. Then his hand returns, coated in seed, slicking it over me in a sizzle of sensation that sends jolts of electricity shooting through my body.

I try to rear back, to get more touch, and he buries one hand in my hair, pulling me up until my back arches, holding me in place.

Then it's not his hand rubbing over me—it's his cock. The head slides up and down, slicking me with more of his seed, adding to the wetness already dripping out of me, because yes, he's right. I'm wet and dripping for him.

"Fuck, look at you, so ready for me." He pauses with the wide head just beginning to stretch my entrance. "Beg me, my bride. Beg for my cock."

"Branikk," I pant, unable to form any word but his name. "Branikk!"

Thank god, it's enough.

He thrusts forward, fast and hard, filling me in a delicious burn, stretching me like nothing ever has before. The piercings add extra texture as he pumps into me, sending shivers racing through me.

His thighs slap against mine as he buries himself, and it's too much. He's so big the feeling is overwhelming.

Then little touches slide up my crack while more curl down to my clit. The tentacles. Oh, god, they're touching me everywhere .

His hand tightens in my hair, his grunts echoing the wet slaps of our bodies coming together. I pant, the smell of sex filling my nose, my mouth, salt and tang on my tongue.

Branikk slams forward again, his cock filling me as the tentacles stroke my ass and my clit.

It's all too much. And it's completely perfect.

I am completely overwhelmed, unable to move, unable to do anything but feel . Him, the whole world is him.

Branikk thrusts forward, deeper than ever, and multiple tentacles fill my ass and stroke my clit, faster and harder as the tingling builds and builds and builds.

Pleasure spirals outward in a blaze of sensation that shakes my whole body, my sight going dark around the edges as I scream his name one final time.