Chapter 7

Sorcha

My breath caught in my throat.

"Breed me?" I whispered, certain I should be horrified, and not willing to admit the way my stomach clenched was actually anticipation.

Such a thing should not arouse me, should it?

Across the fire, Drakolt slowly nodded. The shadows played across his features, hiding some of his expression, but highlighting the strong line of his jaw and those intriguing tusks. Not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would those tusks get in the way, or make life more interesting?

Would he kiss me as he took me ?

"Yer breeding is a blessed event, Sorcha. It has been foretold by my clan's holy woman. She chose ye specifically for this, because she kenned ye would no' only be able to take my seed, but craft a son in yer womb. A son who'll unite our clans."

Craft a son .

My eyes had widened. I do not think I had ever heard pregnancy described in such reverent terms…as if what I could do was special, revered. As if I was more than just a vessel for his son.

Our son .

I swallowed.

Only last week, I had been told I was on my way to marry Laird MacDonald. He had bought and paid for me as a bride to give him sons. Was that not my role in life? To be bred?

But this orc…this tall, intriguing, almost-handsome orc…he was being open and honest about it.

And the thought of Laird MacDonald's marriage bed, or his touch, didn't make me this breathless.

But still, I couldn't let Drakolt know how much I wanted this. "And if I do not choose to be bred by you?"

He merely shrugged, holding my gaze. "It is not up to either of us. The gods have chosen our union. In my culture, such a thing is sacred, belonging to the entire clan. As will yer breeding."

"Wh-what does that mean?" I asked, wide-eyed, drawing my knees toward me once more.

His voice lowered, until it reverberated somewhere deep inside me. "It means, pretty little human, that when we reach my village, on the designated night, my clan will gather and celebrate our union. They will acknowledge ye as my Mate, and will witness me taking ye, spilling my seed in ye. I'll fill ye up with my cum, Sorcha, and put a bairn in yer belly."

Blessed Virgin . My throat had tightened until I couldn't seem to get a sound out.

He was going to…to take me in front of everyone? Pin me down and tup me in front of his clan? His people?

Drakolt could not have read my mind, but he nodded. "Our people, lass. They will respect ye, and this ceremony, once they ken ye carry the son who is foretold to unite our people."

Unite our people . I could not focus on that, I could not even ask him what he meant, because I was too busy thinking of being thrown down on a boulder in a circle of firelight, everyone watching as he shoved his assuredly huge cock into me again and again as I cried and fought him .

"Breathe, Sorcha," he commanded, and I was reminded of the way he had comforted me before. Surely he wouldn't hurt me now, after all these days together?

Besides, you would not be crying and fighting him, would you ?

I blinked at my subconscious's claim. What?

Do not lie. You like the thought of being claimed by this male. This male with the clever fingers, whose cock is surely bigger than the betrothed your father chose. This male who has cared for your comfort…

Across the fire, Drakolt's lips pulled into a smile, and I startled when I realized I didn't find it the least bit repulsive.

"Ye dinnae hate the idea, do ye, lass?" he crooned. "I can smell yer wet cunny from over here."

Oh .

Oh God Almighty . He could what ?

"Dinnae fash, lass. The scent is the most delicious I could imagine," he growled wickedly. "I'd like verra much to smell it closer."

I couldn't help the way my knees fell open as I ceased to breathe.

Although every muscle in my body was tense, Drakolt somehow seemed more at ease as he spoke. He placed one palm on the ground beside him and leaned to one side, his other hand dropping to the bulge in his kilt. "Ye dinnae mind the thought of me taking ye in front of our clan, do ye, Sorcha?"

Our clan . I swallowed, forcing out the lie. "I hate it."

His chuckle was startling. "Ye will make a fine chief's Mate with bravery like that. But I cannae only think of my clan at a time like this. The start of our lives together cannae be only violence. Ye dinnae want yer first time to be in front of our people, do ye?"

He meant…the first time he took me, ‘twould be a public spectacle? Oh God. I grew breathless again.

Drakolt nodded. "I will breed ye, Sorcha, and our clan will witness it. Ye're going to take my cock deep in yer cunny, and I'm going to fill ye with my seed. But it doesnae have to be yer first experience with me. We have days to become used to one another's bodies."

I licked my lips. "I…I do not understand." Although I was fairly certain I did. My gaze dropped unintentionally to the thickness under his kilt which he now stroked.

"I've never made love to a human, ye see." His grin was a little crooked. "I dinnae ken what ye like. But I'll imagine a lass like ye, a good lass, kens what she likes, aye? "

I couldn't answer. But that heat was building in my core and I squirmed against the hard ground, just remembering some of the positions listed in A Harlot's Guide .

He nodded slowly, as if knowing he was right. "Right now, yer cunny is dripping, Sorcha." It was not a question. "Ye're imagining what ‘twould feel like for me to touch ye there . Show me how ye'd like me to touch ye."

Dear Lord.

He raised a brow in challenge. "Ye want me to ken what ye like, when it comes time to breed ye, aye?"

That thought was what had me reaching for the hem of my gown and inching it upward. I had worn no stockings in the warm summer air, and now I didn't regret it. Each inch of my skin that was revealed shivered under his rapt gaze.

When my gown and chemise were draped over my thighs—feet still planted on the ground, knees still raised—I hesitated.

"Touch yer tit, Sorcha," he commanded. "Cup it. Caress it."

Unbidden, my hand raised, following his decree as if I had no choice. My palm cupped my breast, my fingers going to my nipple to roll it the way he had. It didn't feel the same—didn't feel as good—but I still felt myself arching into the touch, breaths coming too fast now.

"Aye, that's a good lass." His hand began to move, leisurely stroking his cock through the tartan of his kilt. My mouth watered suddenly, wanting to see that thick member, wondering if it would be as green as the rest of him, and his smile flashed. "Aye, in good time, pretty one. I can scent yer eagerness. Pull aside that flimsy linen, aye, and touch yer skin like a good girl."

I would have done it without his command, I was so desperate to feel the touch of skin on skin. ‘Twas easy enough to yank down the neckline of my chemise, to bare my breasts to the night air…to his gaze.

When I squeezed the orb, we both sucked in a breath.

Without realizing it, my other hand had dropped to my skirts again, pulling upward. I could have buried my hand beneath them, touching myself in private…but I did not.

This was not just for me anymore.

I allowed my thighs to fall open until they stretched apart, holding my skirts away from my core. His gaze was locked on it, his hand still slowly stroking himself .

I imagined his breathing was as erratic as mine.

When I dragged my finger through my wet cleft, we both moaned.

I tipped my head back, closing my eyes, imagining ‘twas Drakolt's fingers on me. In me. Imagining what the breeding would feel like, when he would hold me and slide into me again and again, everyone watching.

I grew breathless at the thought. To be reduced to a mere body, every fiber of my being focused on the place where we'd be joined. To know I was the center of attention for what I could provide to the clan chief.

One of my fingers slid inside my channel, curving forward, not quite long enough to caress that secret spot deep inside. My hand had dropped from my breast to my mound, the heel of my palm providing the pressure I needed, as my body reached higher and higher.

Closer and closer and closer.

I had never peaked this quickly before. The combination of what I had learned from A Harlot's Guide , and the scenario he had described, and the days riding with him on edge…they had combined to send me closer to a climax than I had im agined possible.

The air in front of me moved, and when I opened my eyes, still sliding my fingers in and out of my wet passage, he was there.

Drakolt knelt in front of me, his cock in his hands, his gaze riveted on my cunny. His expression was somewhere between reverent and desperate, and I felt my core squeeze around my fingers.

My gaze dropped to his cock, what I could see of it in his grip.

‘Twas a pale green and ridged. It reminded me of the few times I'd seen his tongue. And ‘twas thick . So thick, so long, I wondered if I could take it.

You will have to take it, remember? In front of everyone .

And mayhap ‘twas that thought. Mayhap ‘twas the greedy way he stared at me. Whatever the reason, I felt myself fall over the edge which had been threatening. I gasped as my inner muscles began to spasm around my fingers, and I braced my weight to thrust my hips upward.

His gaze flashed up to mine, and I came while staring into his dark eyes.

Only…they were not quite dark anymore, were they? Deep within them there was the slightest flash of green.

"Sorcha," he growled, dropping forward to support himself with one palm flat on the ground, as the other continued to stroke himself. " Please . Lass, I need…"

He was going to fook me, here and now? I groaned, closing my eyes, giving in to the inevitable. This was not the wedding night I had imagined, but right now I was so aroused, so ready…

"I need to taste ye."

My eyes flashed open, staring up at the branches above.

Taste ye .

I licked my lips, and I must have made a little noise of need because then he was there, between my legs. Drakolt's arms snaked under my knees, lifting me until my arse hit the tree behind me. I used my hands to steady myself and he paused.

He paused, just looking.

Nay, inhaling .

He was smelling my cunny—my dripping cunny, which I'd just finger-fooked as if I'd been alone in my bed at home, reading A Harlot's Guide —and grinning.

It looked as if he was savoring the moment, and I had to resist the urge to rock my hips forward.

Finally, he bent closer and slowly—so slowly—dragged his tongue up my slit. I whimpered, the skin was still so sensitive, and I realized his tongue was much wider than I'd expected.

And ridged. Dear God, his tongue was ridged , and I felt each bump deliciously.

He licked me again, then a third time, humming in approval. "Malla the Beginner, Sorcha," he finally gasped, "'Tis the most delicious thing I could imagine."

As he bent his head again, my hand fell to the top of his head, my fingers curling in his hair to hold him in place. This was The Invasion of Brussels , was it not? I remembered my conversation with Effie and Roxanna the night we were taken, and how we were certain our future husbands would never do this for us.

But this male was doing it.

Nay, he was doing more than licking me…he was savoring me. He was making noises as if I were a grand feast and he was a starving man. He was revering me, worshiping me with his tongue…and I was already climbing toward another climax.

And then Drakolt made a little noise of discovery as his tongue brushed against the bud of my pleasure, and I jerked forward, grinding my pelvis into his face.

"What is this called?" he murmured, his callused fingertip finding it effortlessly .

"Clitoris," I gasped, gyrating helplessly, as his other finger slid into me. "Sensitive."

"Och, aye, ‘tis," he chuckled, dragging that finger out. When he pushed it in again, a second joined it, and I was stretched wider than I had been before. "Ye like the pressure on it."

I did, but only because that was the easiest way for me to come. When he lowered his mouth and flicked the pearl with the tip of his tongue, I twitched and whimpered in desperation, and I swear I heard him chuckle.

What followed was the most delicious torture. He teased the pearl of my pleasure with gentle brushes, quick licks, and pressure with his tongue as he slid his fingers in and out of me. My legs fell open around his shoulders, and when I looked down, his mouth and jaw were shiny with my dew.

At first, I couldn't imagine taking anything larger than my own fingers, but as my second climax drew closer, I realized he had three of his thick fingers inside me, and was stroking me slowly, torturously.

Then he tipped his head back, that green spark in his eyes, and held my gaze. "Come for me, Mate," he commanded, in a voice so deep it reached into my chest and squeezed .

Still holding my gaze, he slowly pushed a fourth finger inside me, causing me to gasp and momentarily clench. But he leaned forward and flicked his tongue across my pearl once more, and I was lost. I whimpered and rocked my hips forward, sending him even deeper, and his fingers curled, catching that spot deep within me I could rarely reach.

Gasping, I exploded as he watched.

I wanted to close my eyes, to allow the waves of pleasure to crash over me, to focus on those sensations.

But I couldn't seem to manage to look away. I needed him, and I needed his gaze as well.

He nodded approvingly as I pressed my lips together, trying to hold in the cry of pleasure. His lips and jaw glistened in the firelight, evidence of what he'd done to me.

For me.

I climaxed, caught helpless in his gaze.

After, my muscles were weak, and I slowly released my hold on his hair, not realizing how hard I had been pulling it. I winced apologetically, but before I could speak, Drakolt rested back on his heels.

"Remarkable."

That was all he said, and for the first time, I felt remarkable.

His fingers slid from me and he lifted them between us. I could see my dew glistening on his green skin, tinged pink with my virgin's blood. I had been untouched by a male until tonight.

And I could not regret it.

His gaze serious, Drakolt lifted the fingers to his mouth and licked each one thoroughly in the most erotic display I could imagine. I am not sure why this should be more primitive than what he had just done, but it felt that way.

Mayhap ‘twas the satisfied noises he had made which caused my cheeks to heat with embarrassment, and my thighs to press together. I winced at the sensation, knowing I would be sore in the morning.

I had taken all four of his fingers, and he had made certain I was ready for him.

For his cock .

Did he want that now? I felt as limp as a wrung-out cloth, but surely he would expect that now? What had he said? He wanted to know what pleased me…was that all he wanted?

Drakolt grinned and reached for me, his hands closing around my waist. "Ye're overthinking it, pretty little Mate."

He'd called me that before. What did it mean?

My mind was dazed, I knew, wandering…so when he pulled me forward, off the log, an d tucked me up against his side, I was not quite certain what was expected of me. I tipped my head back to stare up at him.

"Palton's Spear, ye are beautiful like this, Sorcha."

"Like what?" I whispered.

"Sated." To my surprise, he leaned down and brushed a kiss over my forehead. It felt like a normal kiss, the way a human husband might have kissed me.

Nay. A human husband would not have done what Drakolt just did for you.

"Go to sleep, lass." He grunted slightly as he shifted position until his back was against the log, and I was in his lap.

I had to admit, I was warm and comfortable and protected. "But…"

Another kiss on my temple. "Ye've satisfied my curiosity. Go to sleep."

I could still feel his cock, hard beneath my arse. His curiosity . That was all this had been about? He had said he wanted to know what brought me pleasure, and he had paid attention.

Could I ask for anything more? From a Mate?

My eyelids were heavy, the long days of tension and the two magnificent climaxes catching up with me. I tipped my head against his shoulder and snuggled closer.

As Drakolt stroked my arm and murmured things to me in a language I did not recognize, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, feeling cherished.