Page 24 of Finding Her Heart
Annabell's hands wandered as if she were back in her own bed after a bath, longing for touch, for companionship, for the lost hopes of the girl she had been. One hand explored the skin of her living Orki bed, the muscles of his sides, whatever she could reach. He had removed the belt and the pouches, but still wore the Orki version of trousers, which was like a chopped-off dress. She could feel him under that, his manhood, familiar and foreign all at once.
More bull than man.
Her other hand traveled over her skin. Hungry for years, simmering with revived desires, she cupped her breasts, her collar bone, her ribs. She found her nipple and thumbed it, dreaming of being suckled. Mark's refusal to touch her breasts made her want it even more. His lack of interest turned her curiosity into molten obsession. She pulled at the stiffening bud. Would the Orki also dismiss her breasts?
"Please," she moaned, thinking of that, both the possible pleasure and the chance of rejection.
Beneath her, that hum increased to the low growl of a rush of water rapids rolling over her body, starting at her center and rushing up and down her spine. Her insides contracted. Crying out at the sharp hard pleasure, her moans turned to a whine, and she liquified. Every part of her that was woman turned soft. Need hollowed her out, took everything, stole reality. She pulled at her nipple. Hard.
It wasn't enough.
Need.
Her hips pumped up and down on that cock in the crack of her bottom, her hands went between her opened legs and the drenched delta there. She leaked hunger, the petaled flesh engorged and sensitive. "By the moons," she said with a drawn-out vocal groan. Filling herself with her left finger, she rubbed delicate circles on the inflamed peak near the top of her slit. The finger inside went back and forth, tormenting the empty walls of her vagina.
Never once stopping that sound, the Orki's hand cupped the side of her face, his forefinger across her lips. His other hand at her hip, keeping her in place. Nothing he did discouraged her, and Annabell couldn't think of stopping. So good.
And she needed. How she needed.
That finger at her lips rubbed her bottom lip in the tiniest of exquisite sensations. She mimicked it. Following the direction of his one finger, whimpering as the heat within her grew, changed colors, from yellow-orange, to red, then blue and purple. Hot. She was flame and sparks. Combusting. Gasping. Her mouth open, White Eyes slipped his finger inside the dark cavern, touched her tongue. Her muscles bunched and nerves shivered. She came in a burst of sparks behind her eyes at the raw, sexual intimacy of his finger in her mouth.
Driven by instinct, her lips closed around it, licking as her body trembled, flames shrinking, all her fuel exhausted. He tasted like he smelled, only saltier. Her fingers still wet, Annabell gripped his arm, keeping his hand cupping her face, and suckled at him.
This was right. Satisfying. Lost to sensation, she couldn't do anything but what her exposed impulses asked. Heart rate decreasing, need satisfied—she drifted. The crackle and desperation of her flames, the fuel of need and hunger drowned out the invasive critical voice in her head. Blunted the twisted edge of grieving and emotions.
They were there, at the edges of her closed eyes, howling specters but blocked from getting in.
The Orki's free hand opened over her bare belly and held her close as the panting slowed and cooled. Safe. So safe. Shutting out the voices.
Laying on the Orki, sucking on his fingers, Annabell drifted into a restful, comfortable sleep.
Chapter 9
You Wash Me Clean
War beast muzzle sniffing in her face woke her up. All the animal had to do was open its deadly mouth and devour her. Instead, it was making all kinds of noise. Standing over her, telling her to wake up.
"Oh," she gasped.
Waiting for the most disgusting moment, the war beast swept its rough pink tongue from the top of her naked chest up to the top of her head.
Annabell screeched, bringing her arms up, grabbing at the furs to pull over herself for protection. Already up, White Eyes' abandonment left her to his riding mount's attention. More of an oversized, spike-armored, short-snouted wolfish creature than a dog. The animal acted in familiar doggish ways. Bigger, differently shaped, differently made, and too intelligent for its own good, but dog-like in its mannerisms. Annabell saw her frown reflected in the glint of its knowing, amused eyes.
The beast annoyed her on purpose.
Annabell gave it her sternest face of disapproval.
The war beast wheezed and chuffed in its throat, laughing at her.
Standing nearby, the Orki snapped his fingers at his riding mount. With a few gestures, he silently communicated something. They "talked" back and forth for a moment before the beast went off to take care of whatever it was the Orki wanted.
"You won't tell me your name. What am I to call you? What am I to think? My papa told me of the agreement with the Orki. I know you only take women to become wives. He said you care for them well. I know your ways are different. But this silence… I remember you could speak." She let those words hang like a question in the air, waiting for him to answer.
Still on the ground in the hard bed of furs and blankets he had put together for them, her position gave her a sense of smallness. Drained of the weight and disappointments of her experiences, she discovered a youthful hope, looking up at him from the floor with trusting supplication. She blushed. There was no word in any language to encapsulate the giggly, girlish discomfort of the position.
He made her feel young. Inexperienced. He robbed her of the bitter, determined loneliness of her life, reverting Annabell into a young woman losing herself to romance and affection. Shaking the silly feelings off, she forced her thoughts in order, stumbling ahead, seeking answers. "I remember some of it. Your common was incomprehensible and my Orki was huumonish, but I remember you talking to me. You told me your name that day. You told me I was your redress woman and that you could see me. I was alone by the river, and the war beast came up, almost pushing me into the water."
He nodded with the barest curl of his lips at the corners, an Orki smile. They smiled little, she knew. The size of their teeth, the shape of their wide mouths made smiles into snarls and were not a common Orki expression. It was his eyes that told her things. He shared the memory. But still, he did not speak.
