Sheβs not dressed for battleβjust a fur coat slipping down soft shoulders, curves glowing in torchlight. The orcs surround her, towering, growling, hungry.
Melony doesnβt run. She leans in.
βStronger than I expectedβ¦β she whispers, as rough hands lift her with ease. Her breath catches, legs parting as their grip tightensβpossessive, primal, craving.
One at her front. Another at her back. Her moans echo off the stone.
Sheβs not afraid.
Sheβs ready.
ππ¦ Cave heat. MILF moans.
And she wants every drop. ππ₯