Pack Deception: Part Two, page 23
“Not yet,” he grunts, pulling back and pushing back in with shallow, slow thrusts. A small whimper escapes me. “Shhhh, pretty girl. I’ll give you what you need. I just want to savor this a little longer.” He lifts my hips up higher for a different angle and picks up the pace.
It feels so incredibly good, I don’t think it could get any better until I hear praises and compliments streaming down the bond.
From both of them.
It drives me wild, so I wrap my legs around Hudson’s back and, when he’s thrusting back in, I yank with every muscle in my legs. Feeling his knot lock inside me as we both shout our release is absolutely worth it.
Hudson collapses on top of me, both of us breathing heavily. Sleep starts to drag me under, my eyes feel heavy, but I sense Brooklyn lying down beside us. Hudson turns so I’m sandwiched between them, his knot still locked in me. Brooklyn kisses the bond mark she gave me, making a small orgasm sweep through me, and causing Hudson to grunt out another release.
“Sleep, Summer. We’ve got all week, just us.”
So I do.
“I don’t care who it is, Mason. I’m not fucking leaving her to take a phone call.” I hear Brooklyn whispering, but I’m still too tired to open my eyes. Or do anything beyond listening and trying to comprehend what’s happening. An arm around my waist tightens, cocooning me in a soft warm embrace.
Mason or Maverick or somebody must respond to her, but their voices are too low for me to hear. Brooklyn stiffens slightly beside me before cursing and slowly peeling herself from my back. I think I hear her mutter something along the lines of fucking vile cretins. The space at my back becomes cold with her absence. A distressed mewl leaves me in my half-sleep state, and a second later, a much larger body presses against me. Sleep takes me once more.
Pain in my abdomen wakes me up. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sleeping, but Brooklyn is nowhere to be found, and Hudson has been pushed to the far end of the nest where he snores so loud I’m surprised that isn’t what woke me.
Mason and Maverick now take up residence on either side of me. I should be happy, having them here. But all my omega is focused on is that one of her mates is missing. The pain flares again, making me grunt and push a fist against my stomach to soothe it. The bite mark on my neck feels hot, angry, and tender to the touch. Whether the pain is subconscious, or it really does need to be tended to by my alpha, I’m not sure.
The pain in my stomach hammers in a constant, dreadful crescendo that has now advanced on to a headache.
Why is everyone sleeping in my nest during my heat?
Deciding to be a pushy, needy omega, I grind my hips back against Maverick. Somehow, my alpha is hard even in his sleep. It must be the cloying omega pheromones. Either way, it works out to my benefit. Everyone may be asleep, but at least they’ve all been smart enough to assume I’d want them completely naked and wrapped around me. I never put clothes back on after my tryst with Hudson and Brooklyn. Nothing separates us as I toy with Maverick to wake him up. The skin-to-skin contact and promise of pain relief soothes the ache for Brooklyn just a little.
The arm banded around my stomach tightens in a way that I know means I’ve woken him. Finally.
Giddy anticipation courses through me when Maverick meets my grinding with some of his own.
“Fucking hell, your scent is everywhere right now. Does my omega need something?” His deep voice sounds gravelly with sleep, but so sinful I shiver.
“Just my alpha,” I purr back. A growl rumbles from his chest that I feel travel through my back. In the next breath, he picks up my leg and lifts it, not over his own body, but slings it over Mason’s. Fingers brush against my sex long enough for Maverick to feel how soaked and ready I am, and then he’s pushing into me in one swift thrust.
“Fuuck,” he murmurs, long and low. I’m too far away from Mason, the stretch in my leg feeling a little uncomfortable, so I scooch closer. Maverick follows me until the three of us can’t be distinguished from each other. Just a mess of arms and legs.
The new position lets me lift my leg higher on Mason’s hip, giving Maverick a deeper angle. One he takes full advantage of, thrusting in and out, his knot nudging my entrance each time.
“I’ll never get tired of this, sweets. You’re everything to me. You and Mason. Everything.” At his words, I clench around him, slick coating my thighs.
“I love you,” I pant in response, stomach tightening as I feel my orgasm build. “Both of you, I lo–”
Lips seal against mine, and I groan. With Maverick fucking me from behind, and my focus on that sensation, I hadn’t even noticed Mason woke up. Warm hands hold my face against his while his tongue licks the seam of my lips, and I open for him. Mason kisses me with the kind of passion books are written about. Tender, deep strokes of his tongue that seem to match Maverick’s pace inside me. The two of them…so in sync, connected, and working in my favor right now.
Just as I think that, Maverick grunts and picks up his pace.
“Aghh, yes,” I mumble against Mason’s lips. Not to be outdone, he bites my bottom lip and becomes half-wild himself. I snake my hand down between us–the best I can with how close we all are–and stroke Mason from tip to base. Gently, he grabs my hand and moves it to his shoulder. Confused, I let it go and hold his shoulder for some semblance of control while Maverick continues to move inside me.
Mason hikes my leg higher on his hip and inches closer to me if that is even possible. This time, he snakes his hand down between us. If I thought he was going to rub my clit, I was very wrong. Pressure builds a little as he pushes two fingers inside me and fucks me with Maverick.
Groans come from Maverick and me at the move. It must drive him wild, because I feel his knot hit my entrance with a little more force, and I push back to welcome it. But Mason holds my hips still when he sees what I’m trying to do. “Don’t knot her, you bastard.”
A distressed noise escapes me. My omega does not like that. She’s all about her knots. “Hey, shh. You’ll be plenty full with both of us in your pussy.”
Everything goes still. There is no rustling of the sheets or slapping of skin on skin, and I realize it’s because Mason has rendered Maverick and me both speechless. Not to be deterred, Mason starts moving again, adding a third finger to the mix that has my eyes rolling back in my head. When he adds the fourth, I don’t think I can handle anymore. As an omega, we’re built to take knots, to stretch past what a beta or even alpha could. But that doesn’t stop the little bit of trepidation from sneaking in.
“Ready?” he asks, pulling his fingers out. I can feel my head do a little bit of a nod, shake combination. This makes him pause. “We don’t have to do this if you aren’t comfortable with it.”
“No, I want to,” I blurt out immediately. He looks back at me, eyes bouncing between mine, looking for a lie. Then the tip of his cock is nudging my entrance.
“You say stop, and we stop,” he says, holding a tight grip on my thigh, keeping me open for them. He thrusts a little. If I thought his fingers were a lot, I couldn’t have imagined this. Another thrust. Another inch. My breathing comes faster, panting as the pain and pleasure ride such a fine line.
Vibrations come from behind me as Maverick starts purring. Every locked-up muscle in my body loosens, and I go limp in their arms. The pain fades to a small pinch, pleasure overriding the rest. Another thrust, another inch.
Mason’s pelvis nudges mine. With wide eyes, I glance down to see he’s seated to the hilt. The sight of both my mates inside me is so erotic, I feel an orgasm building, squeezing them.
They both groan, finding a rhythm where one thrusts in as the other pulls out.
“Please, please, please,” I start chanting, not sure what I’m even asking for, but I feel myself heading for the edge of the cliff. Our bodies are all so close I can’t even reach between our bodies to help myself along.
Just when I feel like I could cry in frustration, teeth scrape over my neck. Maverick bites down, and I detonate around them. With Hudson still snoring in the corner, I try to contain the scream that wants to tear the building down.
Instead, I follow Maverick’s lead and tuck my face into Mason’s neck, biting down harshly on his own neck. The moan he lets out is obscene, his body convulsing as jets of cum shoot inside me. So much from the both of them that I feel it leaking out of me and onto all of our thighs.
The three of us lie there, panting, bringing our breathing down. Mason’s eyes are glazed as he goes through what I did with Hudson’s and Brooklyn’s bite marks. The influx of voices, the brilliant lights, and overwhelming pleasure.
Wait…
My fingers drift up to the side of my neck Maverick just marked. Where I expect my fingertips to brush against broken skin, they find none. It’s smooth.
Bliss turns to worry turns to anger. Emotions are hitting me from every direction wondering why he didn’t want to mark me. When everyone else has, and me to Mason. Mason. Maybe he only wanted to mate Ma–
“Ouch! What in the world,” I huff, pain coming from my thigh. Maverick’s chuckle following it. In the middle of my internal meltdown, he managed to pull out, settle between my thighs, and bite me right below my pantyline without me noticing.
“Sorry, sweets. I’ve had my sights set on this spot for a while. I’m going to have some fun the next few days waiting for it to heal.”
“Men,” I huff good-naturedly, rolling my eyes. First, Hudson on my breast, and now, this. I look over to Mason, knowing he’ll roll his eyes with me at their caveman ways. But instead, a laugh slips free when I see he’s fallen asleep.
“You wore him out,” Maverick chuckles, licking the broken skin of my new mark.
“Mmmmhmmm,” I mumble, closing my eyes to enjoy the tingling sensation coming from his ministrations.
“He’s not the only one worn out, I see,” he whispers, crawling up to my side. Something heavy and soft is draped over my now-cooled skin, Maverick’s body presses up against my back, and everything after that goes black.
Epilogue 2
Summer
After those first few days, the heat pheromones kicked in full swing, and we let them. They didn’t try to hold back a rut anymore, and I let myself go completely, too. Maverick gave Mason his own mate mark–not anywhere risqué like by his balls or anything. No, he put his right smack dab on Mason’s neck for the whole world to see.
Nobody said it, but I know it was because Maverick wanted to make a point of showing Mason he wasn’t, and never will be, ashamed of their relationship.
Or ashamed of his designation.
This world has a nasty habit of looking down on betas, which he learned all too well from Pack Monroe, and I think it was perfect that Maverick chose a visible area for his claim. So now I felt them all. All four of my mates were in my very soul, and life was finally perfect.
Well, almost perfect.
Brooklyn came back shortly after I fell asleep again that second day, very tight-lipped about what she was away dealing with. Instead, she simply apologized, tended to her mate mark on my neck, and I enjoyed the rest of the heat in blissful ignorance. That bliss had to come to an end though.
The heat broke almost exactly a week after it began. Blankets were pulled from the mattress to be washed. Which, on a normal day would drive my omega bonkers, but it smelled overwhelmingly of sex and sweat. We’d wash the blankets in there now, and just replace the nest with what was on everyone’s beds currently. I’d still have their scents but in a cleaner way. The fan was turned on and the door propped open so it could be aired out, too. Mason grabbed his oils for another post-heat massage, to which I saw a wonderful pattern emerging.
And amidst all the joy and domesticity, came the black cloud.
“Renee is on her way over to talk to us,” Brooklyn informs us as we’re all seated or standing around the kitchen island for a late breakfast. Melted chocolate and sweet pancakey goodness fills the room in a rich aroma. The chocolate chip pancakes and fruit toppings bar was my request. I’ve always had a horrible sweet tooth after a heat. One which they did not hesitate to indulge.
“Renee? Is this about…?” The question hangs in the air. Mason trying his hardest not to say their names, lest it conjure them I suppose. He’s had a lot of trouble talking about them around me since I woke up. Guilt still eats at him for not being able to connect the dots on who Pack Monroe was to me. Or, Pack Moore, as he knew them. Just a lie they told him, to make sure he couldn’t find them again when they threw him aside. Despite it being my fault for not talking about Jade, Connor, or Brody with my mates, Mason is still taking on that blame.
But they’re stuck in jail now. So we can all finally move on. Well, I hope they are. With the connections they have, anything is possible.
“Yeah. She has some news. They tried to get in front of a judge to have the whole thing thrown out on a technicality. Brought in some fancy lawyer.”
Of course, they did. With wealth like that, there are no real consequences.
“They might get away with it? With everything they did?” Hudson growls incredulously. “No. No matter what, they don’t get away with it. I won’t let them.” The look in his eyes is equally terrifying and arousing. It’s clear to everyone here what he means by that.
“Absolutely not.” I glare at him. “You will not go to jail just to see them brought to justice.”
“Of course not.” He shrugs. “I’d get away with it.” An air of superiority and smugness radiates from him. I roll my eyes, noticing that Mason does, too. Maverick and Brooklyn, though, are looking at him as if he’s talking sense for the first time in his life.
“Nobody is killing anyone!” I scream, getting it on the record and putting my foot down.
Before they have the chance to argue, the doorbell rings. Brooklyn takes off to answer it, and Hudson takes over flipping the pancakes.
Arms wrap around me before summer rain overpowers the pancake smell.
Nobody is killing anyone, Mason mimics in my mind. Always on my side. On my wavelength.
The sound of heels clicking against the floor has anxiety flooding me again. Based on the way I’m feeling a whole slew of emotions through the bond, I’d say I’m not the only one.
“Good morning. How’s everyone doing?” Renee asks, a little too much pep in her step for my liking, given the circumstances. Confusion and irritation flood the bonds. Crickets follow her greeting. “Wow. Tough crowd. Well, hopefully, I can cheer you guys up.” She stops at the island, setting her briefcase on it. With two clicks, she unsnaps, opens it, and pulls out a manilla folder.
I don’t reach for it. Neither does anyone else. It appears we’d rather hear it straight from the alpha’s mouth. Renee looks around at us and then huffs. “Fine, take the fun out of it.” She opens it herself, and then fans the papers out on the island, in between the plates and silverware we set out. With one glance, my heart starts to race. They all must feel it through the bond–and notice Renee grinning at me–because they finally all lean forward and pick up a few papers each to read.
Frowns marr all their faces, not getting it.
“Why are you showing us Summer’s medical records?” Maverick asks, turning it upside down and placing it back on the island so he doesn’t have to keep looking at it. It’s not anything crazy, just confirmation of the Passion Pack when it was still in my system. When I first moved to Chicago. Oh, and all of Dr. Tanner's charts with her notes. Including my FSH levels documenting my infertility.
“Because they’re the reason I’m here. Or rather, she is,” she says, jerking her chin at me and still smiling. A sliver of hope tries to break through. Maybe…
“Okay, it’s time to spit it out. Start making sense,” Brooklyn huffs, crossing her arms in a very clear, no-nonsense power stance.
“No fun,” Renee mutters. She takes a big breath and then spills it. “These were all sent to me by opposing counsel. Rather, former opposing counsel I guess. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.”
“Please,” Mason grouses.
“Summer here emailed a journalist at the New York Times several months back. Telling a rather compelling story of an omega who had been drugged and forcibly marked against her will by one of the wealthiest, most influential packs in New York. She sent medical records and an affidavit as proof.”
Silence. Even in the bond, my mates have no idea what to think of this as they stare at me in shock. Renee is undeterred. “The journalist was pretty shocked, I’d say. But did his due diligence. Researched the drug, Pack Monroe, you,” she says to me again, tapping a polished pale pink fingernail on the folder. “Then when the story was finally written, and he’d gotten approval from his editor, he saw they were arrested for kidnapping, assault, battery… you get the gist. He reached out to William Monroe, Jade’s–”
“Grandfather.”
“Grandfather,” Mason, Renee, and I all say at the same time. Mine sounding weary and Mason like he tasted something sour. I guess despite not knowing their true last name, he still had the pleasure of meeting William. An awful man. Cruel for sport.
“Right.” She nods. “The journalist reached out to her grandfather for a quote. He was not happy this story was getting published, or that he’d be linked to all this in the press. So he had to pull a boat-load of strings and call in several favors, but the story got pulled.”
That hope that was trying to build in my chest deflates.
“But…” My heart races. “He was pissed he had to call in his favors for this. For Jade and that ‘high functioning moron.’ His words. So he fired the two-thousand-dollars-an-hour powerhouse criminal attorney he’d been paying out of his own pocket for and stuck them with some just-out-of-law-school, twenty-dollars-an-hour public defender. Since their own accounts are frozen, and he cut them off at the knees, their sentence has become much more appropriate.”
