Summoning the Orc (The Kingverse Orcs #2)

Chapter Thirty

Becca

I eyed Rok as he gathered ingredients in front of him. He turned to grin at me as he settled a bowl in front of him, his palms flattening on the island.

“I’m going to make something as well, my Becca,” he announced, his enthusiasm visible in every inch of his body. He was almost vibrating with excitement and it made me want to hug him close.

He wants to feed our clan. The way he hasn’t been able to with his own.

I swallowed back the tears that were threatening and nodded, grinning at him. “That sounds amazing. Did you need help finding anything?” I asked, reaching out to snag him around his waist, hugging him tight.

He shook his head, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead. “No, I have everything that I need here. But let me know if you need help,” he told me, nuzzling his nose against my hair.

I nodded, turning back to start filling the pot with water. I watched with amusement as my mate started pouring flour into a bowl on the island. When I was finished, I started lifting it, but with a tsk, Rok lifted it with one hand and deposited it onto the stove.

When I needed to strain the pasta, he did it again, taking over with ease and then dropping a kiss to the top of my head. I tried to help him with whatever he was making, but he shooed me away every time.

“I can help,” I told him as I grated cheese. “I’m actually a really good cook. It’s just that I haven’t been able to display my full culinary prowess because you keep distracting me with your sexy body.” I finished my explanation with a glare—because it was all his fault.

He snorted out a laugh and shook his head, dropping the dough onto the floured surface of the island and beginning to knead. “If it means that I can fuck you on every surface of our home all day long, my Becca, I’m willing to starve,” he laughed.

I rolled my eyes, but gave a little wiggle of pleasure at his words.

“Wait until you taste my ziti,” I told him, waving the spoon that I was using to stir the sauce in his direction. “It’s life-changing. I got it off the back of a box,” I said with a nod. “And then I made it yummier by adding even more cheese.”

“Not yummier than you,” he grumbled, but I heard him and moved over then up on tiptoe until I could press a kiss to his flour-dusted cheek.

He swatted my ass as I shimmied away and I giggled up a storm. I couldn’t remember ever having so much fun while cooking. It was a chore that I enjoyed doing, but the process was never what I was interested in. It was the product.

Being with him in the kitchen reminded me of when I would sit in the kitchen with Pen’s mother on weekends when I stayed over at their house. The kitchen had become a safe haven where I could learn and explore. Books were the next best thing, but nothing quite beat those hours where I’d spent the time pretended she was my mom, too, and I belonged to the family.

Peeking over at Rok, I realized that that was exactly what we were becoming. He was my family now. We were filling the void that existed in our lives with each other. And I was determined to make the kitchen a fun place for him.

I mixed the meat sauce, cheese and pasta into the two huge ceramic dishes and stood back with a grin, sending a wolf-whistle Rok’s way. He turned with his eyebrows lifted.

“Hey, handsome, can you bring that fine ass over this way and help a girl out?” I asked him with a playful pout, cocking my hip and leaning onto the counter before turning to give him a prime side-view of my ass. “I’d be really grateful.”

He blinked at me, his lips parted in shock, his gaze going to my ass and then my face multiple times before he gave a slow, confused nod. I smothered my laugh as he shuffled over, his hands going straight for my ass.

“Uh uh,” I pulled away, pressing a hand to my chest and pointing the other to the dishes. “Those. They have to go into the oven,” I told him with a pout before stroking my hand up his firm, muscular arm. “And I need the strongest male to do it.”

He puffed out his chest—not that he needed to, he was already massive —and grabbed the dishes as if they didn’t weigh a ton. I moved over, bending to the oven and giving him a prime look at my breasts.

“Right in here,” I told him, my grin salacious.

He deposited the dishes inside the industrial-sized oven and then reached for my breasts. I jumped away with a gasp.

“That’s not very gentleorcly,” I told him with a tsk. “It’s all about,” I added, stroking my finger down his chest and abs, giving him my most sultry look from under my lashes. “The wait. Patience is a virtue,” I finished with a solemn nod.

“Patience?” he asked, licking his lips as he watched my finger slide lower before ending with a firm tap to his already-swollen cock. He flinched at the movement and then gave me an are you serious look.

I repeated the serious nod, then moved over to where he was working on his… dessert . There didn’t seem to be much in terms of chocolate or sweetness happening, but he was layering apples to the bottom of a dish, so that was something.

“Did you need help with anything?” I asked, leaning down to inhale the crisp scent of apples. While I was lowered over the dessert, I swung my ass from side to side. I peeked over my shoulder to see my mate standing right behind me, his lips parted as he stared down at me with awe and lust blazing in his eyes. “I want to make sure you have everything —” I murmured, leaning forward a little more until my ass pressed against him, “—you need.”

The low growl in his throat as he reached for me made me squeak and I spun around to slap my palm against his chest. “Uh uh. No hanky panky while we’re cooking,” I gasped, as if appalled by his behavior.

He frowned, but then I winked at him and it eased into a smile. “Am I not allowed to touch you, yet?” he asked in a low whisper, and I grinned, nodding. “Only looking for now?” I nodded again and he gave a soft, resigned grunt. “Then you should strip for me.”

It was my turn to gape at him before I threw my head back on a laugh. He gathered me into his arms, tipping my chin back to press a kiss to my lips.

“I’m not stripping for you before dinner,” I gasped, turning back to the dessert. “Because we’ll forget all about it and spend the night here.”

It was true. When I got my hands and lips on him, I lost track of time. It was why I’d had to ban morning sex until we were a little more in control. I’d almost been late to work three times before I pulled the plug.

“But you can show me how to make this. What’s it called and where’d you learn it?” I moved back to his dessert and sniffed the apples again, closing my eyes in pleasure.

“It’s called turr,” he explained, starting his own layering process. First apples—and I sighed with relief when he added honey—then a thin layer of dough that he spread with his huge, flat palms. “And I learned with my grandmother—my peetamu. She showed me how before she showed my amu,” he said, his expression smug, and my heart melted for him.

“Which knife did you use?” I asked him, leaning down to look at the apple slices.

He frowned, shaking his head before lifting one of the knives he used in battle from the side of the counter. I watched with horror as he made quick work of slicing an apple to demonstrate.

“Did you wash it ?” I gasped.

“Of course I did,” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t want blood to get into the food.”

I was unable to get a word out as he continued layering apples and dough into the dish. When it was done, he moved to the oven and stuck it in, turning back to me with a wicked grin.

“We have some time to wait,” he told me, his lids going low with lust. I backed up to the counter before hopping up, knowing that this position would put me at the perfect height for my mate. I reached out for him and he joined me with eagerness, taking my lips in a crushing kiss.

“No sex,” I gasped against his lips, as he nodded in agreement before ravishing my mouth.

I was gasping for breath, sprawled on top of Rok, naked on the floor of the kitchen when the timer for the ziti sounded. I nuzzled against his chest with a sigh.

“We should get up before we burn the food,” I said, and he ran his palm over my back, a satisfied smile on his handsome face.

“Okay,” he murmured, but it was long moments before we were sturdy enough to stand up.

I peeked at the ziti, cursing as I noticed that the top was a little browner than I would have liked it. The crust of Rok’s turr also seemed a little well-done, but since I wasn’t familiar with it, I couldn’t be sure.

“Mine are definitely done,” I told him, as we stood bare-assed naked in front of the hot oven. “Is yours too?”

He peeked his head over my shoulder. “Yes. I’ll take them out,” he said, and I turned to grab mittens for him. When I turned back to him, he held the two dishes in his hands, with no heat protection.

“Oh,” I gasped, rushing over to him, waving my hands in useless worry.

He quirked an eyebrow to me as he put the ziti down into the stovetop with gentle movements.

“Your hands,” I gasped, taking them into mine and blowing on them before cradling them against my bare breasts, staring up at him with concern. “You burned your hands!”

He looked from my face to his hands where they were against my breasts a couple times before he gave me a slow nod. “Yes. Very burned,” he said, sounding out the words.

Flustered, I tugged him toward the sink, turning on the cold water before shoving his hands under them. “Oh, Rok,” I cried, hugging myself against his arm and pressing frantic kisses to his skin. “I’m so sorry!”

“You didn’t do anything,” he said, turning to face me, but I shoved his hands back under the cold water.

“I should have had the mittens ready!” I exclaimed, shaking my head as I hurried over to find the first aid kit in the bathroom. I hurried back, but Rok had already removed his hands from the cold water and was drying them with a towel.

“Wait, you might have burns,” I shrieked, grabbing his hands to inspect them. I frowned down at the perfect skin, tilting my head to the side. “But… these aren’t even swollen or anything.” I peered up at him, my brows knitted together with concern. “Is that normal?”

He looked away from me to his hand. “Uhhh… Yes, yes, very normal. Orc skin is tough ,” he said, slapping his hands together and making me wince at the thought of how much pain he must be in. “We don’t show injuries the way other species do.”

“My poor baby,” I cooed, hugging him around the waist. He gave a happy sigh as he swayed me from side to side.