Page 18 of ORC’d By the Emperor

He blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his harsh face. “You wish for me to give you my dynasty?”

Dynasty? I can only assume that’s Orcish for sperm.

“I mean, I want you to get off, too, if that’s what you’re asking.…”

“Little Bride is eager to receive Emperor’s dynasty!” he roars to the crowd.

The crowd roars back like their team won the Super Bowl.

A tall, thin Orc with greying hair and no weapons or bandolier climbs the dais to set a large golden bowl with runic inscriptions on the floor between Ivar’s giant feet. Maybe he’s some kind of Orc priest? He wears what appears to be a ceremonial loincloth. It’s intricately beaded and long to the point of scraping the floor.

“Good Joining, Emperor!” He bows obsequiously before backing away.

And the crowd begins to quietly chant, “Dy-nas-ty! Dy-nas-ty! Dy-nas-ty!”

I blink at the expectant crowd. Are there more of them than there were before? The couple hundred I registered earlier now appear to be closer to a thousand.

“Do not look at them. Look upon your Emperor.”

Not a request.

His right hand cups the entire right side of my face. Thick fingers blocking out the sight of the crowd, he turns my head, once again tilting my face up to his.

As not funny as this situation is, I find myself letting out a choked laugh. “I’m beginning to think Grak was lying about that no eye-contact rule.”

Apparently, Orcs have very good hearing.

The chanting abruptly stops, and I hear Grak call out, “What did Registry Bride say?”

Heavy boot clomps start toward the dais.

But then the Emperor raises his voice to declare, “Grak is honorable warrior. Hordechief of Emperor’s Ten Thousand Axes. Grak would never lie!”

Ivar regards me with a hard, chastising look as he makes that emergency announcement. But then his expression softens, and he returns to the Common Tongue to say, “This rule does not apply to you, Little Bride. If your eyes are a challenge to me, you have already won.”

His other hand curls around my wrist, and he raises my arm up, bringing my palm to the side of his cheek. “Keep your eyes and your touch here on me.”

With that command, he begins moving, slow upward thrusts of his hips that lift my entire body.

My interior walls strain, and more slick issues to accommodate his thrusts, but there’s no pain. In fact…

“Feels so good, Ivar,” I whisper, dazedly staring into his eyes.

“Do not talk to Emperor in this manner!” He suddenly stops thrusting, his face flashing with a pained look.

“Did I say something wrong?” A horrible thought occurs to me. He’s so big, and I’m so tight. Maybe too tight. “Does it not feel good to you, too?”

“Opposite,” he grunts and squeezes his eyes closed. “Has Little Bride any idea of how hard it has been for Emperor to hold back dynasty? When Little Bride says such pretty words to Emperor, battle is nearly lost.”

Maybe I’m getting a handle on the Orcish way of putting things. I immediately translate his meaning. “You don’t want to come yet.”

He shakes his head, obviously struggling. “Little Bride’s cunt is so wet and warm and perfect. If Emperor could, Emperor would extend this Joining forever. Rut Little Bride until the stars return us to the sky.”

His words are somehow both crude and sweet at the same time.

Something in my chest weakens. From the very start, Vance rushed through sex like he was on a mission to nut. But here’s this huge, terrifying Emperor, acting like first sex with me is sacred, something he wishes would last forever.

“Oh, Ivar…” I say—right before I begin pushing my own hips down, taking him like he’s refusing to take me.