by Dizzy Hooper
There. That's the look that's had me so ill at ease of late. His brows crease, and an expression of pure longing crosses his face, and my stomach dips.
Only before I can give voice to how I feel, the moment is over. Any concerns I might have felt are alleviated by the crush of his mouth to mine. His kiss tastes like sex and my pussy and need. It tastes like desperation—and yeah, there's still an odd note. An unspoken sadness that mixes with the longing I swear I saw in his gaze.
"Grady—"
He shakes his head. "Need you, baby. So much."
Well, how can I argue with that? His hard cock presses to my thigh, and I groan as another gush of wetness floods my pussy, slicking the way for my alpha to finally press inside.
But instead of driving in right then and there, he pulls his mouth from mine. He hooks a hand under my hip and in one deft move flips me over, and yeah, God, yeah.
Manhandling me just the way he knows I love, he gets me onto all fours, then presses a palm to the spot between my shoulder blades. He shoves me down. My face mashes into the bed, all the breath driven from my lungs. He's put me into the classic position of a female presenting and asking to be mounted, and mount me he does.
Keeping the pressure in the center of my back, he takes himself in hand. He drags the bare tip of his cock along my swollen pussy lips. The blunt head circles my clit, and I groan. He draws back.
Then with no further ceremony, he plunges inside.
I cry out in pure, animal pleasure as he fills me deep. His huge cock is so much better than fingers—better than anything I've ever felt. Forget that he's one of only three people to ever fuck me, that he was the man to take my virginity in the first place. I can't imagine anything better than the raw sexual satisfaction of having him inside me.
His hips meet my backside as he bottoms out. The stretch is intense, but it's painless; it always is. Grady is a protective sort of alpha, and he takes infinite care in making sure I'm ready for his cock before he pushes in.
Something ticks in the back of my mind, though—another small note of unease. He made sure I was wet, drove me half out of my mind with his hands and mouth before taking me today. He even made me come the one time first.
But there's something a little less careful than usual about the way he's driving into me. With hardly a moment's pause for me to get accustomed to his enormous girth, he's drawing back and slamming forward again. My mouth falls open on a grunt, and I clutch at the sheets to keep myself from getting shoved halfway up the bed with the force of his powerful thrust.
Any other time, I'd be delighted at the rough treatment. I may have shown up here a shy virgin, but I've learned the joys of being taken hard over the last five months. If I had any complaints in the bedroom department, they would be that Grady is almost too careful with me. Having him finally let go and use my body for his own pleasure makes my pussy slicker, my breasts tighter with hot need.
But it's one more thing that's off about him, somehow.
Not that I have time to dwell.
He drives the thought—and any others—out of my head as he pulls almost all the way out only to push right back in. The thick head of his cock pounds my G-spot as he starts up a hard rhythm. Within minutes, I'm on the cusp of orgasm again.
"Please," I moan, rubbing my face against the sheets. "Please—"
"Touch yourself." He shifts to grasp my hips with both hands and quickens the pace of his thrusts. "Do it. Touch that gorgeous pussy. Come all over my cock, wanna feel it—"
I get an arm me. Bracing myself on my elbow, I shove my other hand down to rub at my clit, and oh God. Even that slight pressure makes the throbbing pulse of his cock hammering away inside me redouble. Bright sparks of pleasure flash across my vision. I let my head hang, concentrating on the elusive climax dangling right in front of me.
I don't know how long we go on like that. The room is filled with nothing but the sloppy, wet, filthy sounds of really good sex and our panting, labored breaths, and I'm lost in it.
Until at long last, Grady's rhythm falters.
"Close, baby. Get there, come on," he groans.
And I don't know what possesses me to say it, but the words just flow off my tongue. "Fill me, alpha. Take me, breed me, want your come…"
He howls and slams home hard enough to drive me half a foot across the sheets.
"Mate," he grits out.
And then he slips a hand under me. I think it's to touch my clit, but he bypasses that entirely, going for my belly instead, and the image rocks me all over again.
My, fat with my alpha's pups. With my pack's pups.
He groans out his climax loud enough to shake the walls. His huge cock feels even bigger as it pulses inside me. The first spurt of his hot seed—combined with the thought of him breeding me for real—twists my womb, tearing an orgasm out of me that has me ready to black out. Exquisite pleasure swamps me.
"Yes, yes," he moans, pumping more come into me. I clench around him, milking him for every drop.
When he collapses over me, it's with both of us breathing hard. My hands and feet tingle with how hard he made me come. His hot body blankets mine, and it's soothing. Reassuring.
Except then he pulls away.
The loss of his heat on my skin is almost a physical pain, made worse by the sudden emptiness as his cock slips free. He really did pump me full; come leaks out of me as I lie there, bewildered by his abrupt retreat.
"Grady…"
"Sorry." He shakes his head. "Muscle cramp."
But he's not looking at me.
Something isn't right.
I sit up, feeling naked and cold, and—well, yeah, I am in fact naked. But I never feel that way in front of my alpha. Definitely not right after having gotten fucked, when my pussy is still wet with his leavings.
Still failing to meet my gaze, he reaches for a box of tissues and passes it to me. He pulls out a few and helps to clean me up. His fingertips on my delicate skin are as gentle and caring as ever, but he still just seems off somehow.
And I may occasionally be a little oblivious, but I'm not a dummy. The not-quite casual touches to my belly are the possessive actions of an alpha who's ready to stake his claim and plant his seed for real. Whether he's serious about it or not, he's having thoughts about fucking me full of his pups, and I'm not…against it, per se.
But it's something we'd need to talk about.
It's definitely something he'd have to be willing to look me in the eye about.
That isn't happening right now, though. As soon as I'm cleaned up, he casts a glance at the clock on his nightstand and winces.
"Shit. I didn't realize it was so late."
Despite all the weirdness, I laugh and try to make light of it. I arch a brow and put on a sexy pout. "Well, when you keep your desperate female on the edge for hours…"
That manages to get a hint of a grin out of him, but that's about it. My stomach does another dip.
"Worth every minute," he promises, moving to press a brief, firm kiss to my lips. "But I have to run. Make it up to you later?"
"You better." More insinuation colors my tone—mostly because it's the easiest way I know to hide my doubt.
Maybe he sees through my overconfident front, and maybe he doesn't. Either way, he hastily finishes dressing while I'm still rooting around for my underwear.
And it's so completely unfair how good he looks with sex hair and absolutely no effort at all. The T-shirt he pulls on is tight enough to cling to his hard pecs, and his jeans hug his round ass. Thank God he adds a flannel shirt over top of it all, because otherwise I'd be scolding him for leaving the house looking like a walking invitation to the best sex of a girl's life.
As is, I just stand there in my bra and panties, my pussy sticky with his come and my jaw and thighs tingling with beard burn. I touch the bonding mark on my throat and remind myself that I belong to him—forever.
It's a reminder I sorely need as he presses one more peck to my lips.
&n
bsp; And then he's gone. And I'm fine. We're fine.
Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
Chapter 2
It takes me a while to put myself together after that. I end up in Grady's bed more often than anyone else's—my own included—so I have a fair amount of my stuff in here. Being surrounded by his golden scent isn't setting my mind at ease the way it usually does, though. In the end, I gather my clothes from last night and high tail it to my own room.
Five months ago, I would have been scandalized by the thought of walking down a hallway all but naked like this. Grady seems to have beaten a hasty retreat, but Colt and Landen are probably still in the house somewhere. They could stumble upon me at any moment.
For a second, I wish they would. I'm deliciously sore from two orgasms and a very thorough fucking from my enormously well-endowed alpha. But the weirdness between us has me all kinds of out of sorts.
If my other mates happened to wander down this hallway right now, they'd find me in just a bra and panties, all the rest of my pale flesh exposed to the air, my neck bitten, finger print bruises rising on my hips from where my alpha held me as pounded into me, hard and deep. They'd smell sex and come on my body, and nothing gets either of them going like that.
Maybe Colt would grab me and toss me against the wall. He could shove my panties to the side and pull himself out, and it would be so easy for him to shove inside, fill me up.
Or—oh, that would be even better. He could put me on my knees again, there on the hallway floor and take me just like Grady did, playing with my asshole while slamming into me. God, that male is obsessed with my ass. Maybe, once he'd stretched me out and slicked me with my juices and Grady's come, he'd fuck me there, while Landen stepped in front of me and pulled himself out. Looked down on me with heat in his crystal eyes and told me to open up, to lick…
I have to catch myself against the wall as a new wave of desire washes over me. I shudder, and my pussy throbs.
I could go find them right now, is the thing. The idea is tempting as hell.
But I have things to do today, and it's not like I'm in my season or anything. I'm not so desperate to get fucked again already.
It would only be a distraction, anyway. A welcome one, sure. But it doesn't feel right to use my mates that way.
Besides. Who knows. Maybe when I do find them, they'll be as weird and intense and distant as Grady.
I swallow hard and push off the wall.
We're bonded, the three of them and I. A mating bite is for life, and they gave me mine months ago, one after another. They held me down and staked their claim, pressed their hard cocks inside and sunk their teeth into my throat, and I bit them right back, sealing our connection for as long as we all shall live. They literally can't walk away from me. Not without physical pain. They could have sex with another female, but they could never become attached. They couldn't form another mating bond—not as long as I'm alive.
A churning niggle of doubt worries at the back of my mind.
When they told me they wanted to take me as their mate, I expressed my doubts. I was right on the cusp of my season, desperate to be filled and bred, and the scent of my desire had to have been hot on the air. It would have impaired their senses. We all hardly knew each other, and yes—it felt right. So right. But it was rash. Their promise to love me forever was built on so little.
On the whole, our decision to bond has worked out better than I could have hoped. I've been blissfully happy. They all seem contented, too, and Grady is secure enough that he apparently has pups on his mind.
But I can't help but wonder.
Did we rush into it?
I swallow hard.
Somewhere down deep, does my alpha regret this? Regret me?
No. I've followed my unsettled thoughts too far down the road. I trust my mates and my alpha in particular.
Only I trusted an alpha once before. For most of my life, I believed that my father could do no wrong. He sheltered me and protected me. Unconventional as it was, he supported my decision to move to the city and pursue a career in web design. He welcomed me back to our ancestral lands with open arms whenever I felt the urge to go home. Every time my season hit, I would retreat to those woods to ride it out undisturbed.
Until that last one. When he and his new mate met me at the gate and turned me away.
I still haven't entirely processed that loss, for all that the wound has scabbed over by now. I miss my father and our weekly chats. I miss his giant bear hugs that always made me feel safe.
I miss the twinkle in his eye… but that left his face the day my mother died.
He was left a shell, ripe for manipulation. His power-hungry new mate took advantage, and I was the casualty.
And now here I am. Living in the middle of nowhere with three males that I love with my entire heart. I take refuge in their presence and I'm fed by the strength in their arms. I trust them.
But I've trusted before. Only to have love and security stripped away from me.
Still a tumble of mixed emotions, I stagger the remaining few feet down the hallway to my room. I close the door behind me and sag against it, closing my eyes.
This is all going to be all right.
After a few deep, cleansing, calming breaths, I open my eyes. This room was my mates' gift to me, and I cherish it deeply. I have the run of the house, of course. I'm an equal with the males I've bonded with. But it's still a unique pleasure to have a space of my own where I can retreat if I need to.
It's taken some time, but I've decorated the room exactly to my tastes. While I mourn the childhood artifacts and the things of my mother's that I left behind when I was cast out of my father's home, I've started fresh here.
The pale green walls soothe me, while the big, fluffy bed with its white and black floral print comforter beckons me to lie down and relax. I kept a couple of the art prints from my apartment back in the city and picked up a few, smaller new ones from artists who show their work at the local market.
It's cozy and beautiful, and it's all mine, and I'm so grateful for that right now that I could cry.
Instead, I cross the room and toss my laundry in the hamper, then retreat to the attached bathroom for a much-needed shower.
The hot water helps to clear my thoughts. A little of the tension in my muscles leeches away as I wash my long, dark hair. The lavender scent of my conditioner relaxes me even more, and by the time I'm massaging my body wash into my skin, I've almost pushed my worries from my mind.
Almost.
My breasts are tender from Grady's biting kisses, my hips bruised from the force of his grip. I run my fingertips over the lips of my pussy, washing away the remaining traces of his seed, and I flash back to how rough he was with me this morning. A shiver of arousal hums through me, only the disquiet in the back of my mind keeps me from pursuing it.
With a sigh and an eye roll, I stop touching myself and return to the task of cleaning up. I came here to be alone, but I'm less gathering my thoughts and more stewing, and no good ever comes of that.
A few minutes later, I'm clean, dry and dressed in a funky pair of unicorn leggings and a long, soft T-shirt dress. Comfy clothes that cheer me up are my go-tos when I'm in a mood like this. I brush out my hair and tie it in a knot at the base of my neck, then dab on a touch of make-up, leaving me looking natural and fresh, and not like a mess of simmering anxiety and abandonment issues—I hope.
I keep up the facade the whole way down the stairs and even over the threshold into the kitchen.
Only my other two mates, Colt and Landen, are sitting right there at the table, drinking coffee and reading the news on their tablets. They look so idyllic. The sun shines off Landen's bright blond hair, while Colt's olive skin gleams.
They're perfect. They're everything I want in the world, save one. I have no defenses against them.
And just like that, my mask cracks clear in half.
Chapter 3
Every day since the one I arriv
ed in Broken Ladder Falls, I thank God that I was delivered here, to these males and this home. The life I lead here is charmed.
My every need is provided for. My mates are my companions, my friends, my confidants. They're the goofy men who laugh with me at mindless action flicks, and the sensitive souls who hold my hand through romantic tragedies. They engage me in quiet conversation about the world and our kind. They love me tenderly and fuck me hard, depending on what I need.
And even the thought that that life could be in jeopardy has me quaking at the knees.
I bypass the coffee maker, ignoring its siren song, and head straight to the table where two of the loves of my life have already started their morning. I curl my hands around the back of a chair.
Quietly, voice quivering, I say, "Will somebody please, please tell me what the hell is going on."
"What?" Landen jerks his head up in surprise.
But Colt doesn't seem taken aback at all. He lifts his gaze slowly, raising it to meet mine. "What do you mean?"
My knuckles go white as I squeeze the wood hard enough that it might splinter. My inner wolf is howling. Defensive, she wants to gnash her teeth and lash out, but I calm her the best I can.
"I mean that something is going on. You've all been pretending it's not, but it has. Grady—" I bite down on the inside of my cheek, then work to unclench my jaw. These men are all my lovers, and they know it. Hell, I've had all three of them inside me at the same time before. Telling them this shouldn't be that hard. "Grady just petted my belly, then fucked me within an inch of my life then ran away."
Landen's eyebrows reach for his hairline.
Colt, still calm, mutters a quiet, "Shit," beneath his breath.
The floor is spinning out from under me. Yeah, there's something going on, and Colt knows it. I'm pretty sure Landen does, too, but he's the youngest of the pack. He may not be quite as clued in.
"Jessica," Landen says.
Colt shakes his head. "Sit."
I manage to pull out the chair and drop into it before my knees give out. I connect my gaze with Colt's. "Please. I know you're trying to protect me." I'm pretty sure that's what this is.