Moonlight sliced through the thinner branches to paint the undergrowth around her in a masterpiece of silver and black. The white shift she wore practically glowed, another advantage he had over her. With his green skin and dark cloak, by the time she saw him, it would be too late.
Poised on the edge of the path, she listened for any sign he was near, anything that would tip her off. His breathing, the slight chink of mail, a rustle in the undergrowth, even the absence of natural sound that might indicate he was lying in wait.
Her toes brushed the dry dirt and she shivered despite the warm summer night. Which way did she go, left or right? Whichever she chose, he would find her eventually. He always did. There was no escape.
Silence reigned, nothing but the whispering of the wind in the trees reaching her ears. Heart in her throat, she took the plunge and turned left to hurry down the path between the trees.
Her heart rate picked up. She expected him to burst from the trees at any second and chase her down. He was near. She could feel his eyes on her. Every deep group of shadows became suspect as she picked up the pace, her body aching in more ways than one and ready to leap into a sprint at a second’s notice. She held back, knowing she needed all her energy, all her speed for when he finally caught her.
The trees around the path thinned out as it widened into a moonlit clearing blanketed with soft grass and fragrant moss. A grin curved her lips as she allowed triumph to fill her. In the center of the clearing lay her goal—a blanket spread over the grass next to Karak’s pack. If she could reach it, she was home free. She’d have won the game.
Her steps got quicker the closer she got until she was near an all-out run. It couldn’t be this easy, surely? Karak the Terrible, the ultimate orcish warrior, was really slipping up if he’d let her evade him this easily.
She was almost there. The thrill of victory sang in her veins as she reached the grass. She didn’t notice the large shadow detach itself from the tree line until it was too late. Movement tugged at her peripheral vision. She turned. Karak ran at her, flat-out and low.
Her gasp was more of a squeal as she ran for all she was worth, aware of the big warrior pounding across the grass toward her. She wasn’t going to make it. The angle he was headed meant he’d get to her before she reached the safety of the blanket.
His low chuckle reached her ears, wrapping around her and making her body ache with longing. She’d always found his laugh sexy. The erotic heat that swirled through her body sapped the energy from her limbs. That sexy bastard of an orc knew it as well, knew what he did to her.
She slowed, just a little, but it was enough. Within a heartbeat he had her, strong arms wrapping her up as he tackled her to the ground mere feet from the safety of the blanket.
“No escape, you’re mine.”
His familiar growl filled her ear as she was pressed into the cool grass, a solid male body atop her. Hot skin and warm fur pressed into her back, clearly felt through the thin shift. She might as well have been wearing nothing.
He moved to press his hips against hers, and she gasped at the feeling of his cock, thick and heavy, against the groove of her ass. Heat and sheer, unadulterated need exploded through her like a shooting star. Her pussy clenched, liquid heat slipping from her to signal her body’s readiness for his possession.
She welcomed the possession. Needed. Wanted. And never more so than when they played this game, reliving his claiming of her every full moon. She arched her back and thrust her ass upward, grinding against his rock-hard cock. She ached to be filled, to feel that thick length sliding in and out of her tight channel.
“Tease.”
He nipped her ear, sending another bolt of pleasure through her body to her engorged clit, and then flipped her over. Desire and dark intent shone in his gaze as he looked down at her. As much as she wanted him, wanted him to strip the simple shift from her body and become his with all the ruthlessness she adored, she couldn’t make this easy for him. Easy was boring. She needed to raise the stakes to get him nice and fired up.
Twisting her wrist, she evaded his grasp and pulled the dagger he’d given her from its sheath at his waist. Blanking her face to hide her glee, she pressed the razor-sharp blade against the inside of his thigh.
“Hold it right there.”
Karak froze, his big body perfectly still above her. She didn’t blame him. All his weaponry, including the blade in her hand, was made from dwarf steel—hard as nails and sharper than a dragon’s claw.
“Sweetheart?” His voice was calm, but she could hear the wariness.
“Silence, orc scum. I’m going to show you who’s in charge now,” she growled, trying to imitate his gruff tone before she planted a quick kiss on the side of his neck.
The tension in his frame eased up a little, but not much, given she still had a lethally sharp blade pressed very close to some very delicate portions of his male anatomy. It was entirely his fault. He shouldn’t have taught her to use it.
“Really? And just who would that be?”
He leaned down, trying to intimidate her with his muscled frame as he dragged his lips along her neck. She trembled, hardly able to remember her own name, much less what she was trying to do.
“Ahhh…” She bit her lip as her orcish husband waged war, playing dirty by nuzzling the sensitive spot just under her ear and then nipping the lobe gently. “That would be me. On your back, you filthy cur.”
His shoulders shook with suppressed amusement at her language. Obediently he rolled, taking her with him and, surprisingly, let her keep the knife. She’d expected him to pluck it from her hand and take over. Instead, he moved the blade up to his throat and settled her so she straddled his hips, big hands on hers to press her down onto the thick evidence of his arousal.
Unable to help herself, she rolled her hips against him and nearly undid her own campaign. Hot need spiraled through her, the need to beg him to take her making her whimper.
She loved having him over her, under her, behind her… She didn’t care how, as long as he pounded into her until she didn’t know where she ended and he began.
Smothering a whimper, she tried to keep up the tough persona. She’d never tried to assert dominance over him during sex, but the suppressed desire in his eyes said he was willing to play along. More than willing if the thick cock pressed against her was any indication.
The edge of the knife trailed nonchalantly along his strong neck. He shivered as the blade kissed him, his eyes pools of dark fire as he looked up at her.
Oh gods, he was really turned on.
The knowledge gave her confidence as she leaned forward, wiggling her hips to torment him more as she gave him a good view of her tits in the loose top of the shift. As always, she was naked beneath it. His gaze flicked down for a second and his hands flexed on her hips. He liked to tear the shift from her body, feasting on the twin mounds before teasing and sucking her nipples and then moving south and starting all over again.
Her breath caught as a fresh wave of heat slipped from her.
“Admit it,” she demanded, ignoring the soft caress of his fingers at her waist. Instead, she channeled her inner bitch and hooked her fingers into the mail at his neck, yanking him upright until they were face to face. “I want to hear the words.”
He met her gaze levelly, the expression in his eyes serious.
“I love you.”