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Behind me I hear Topher groan, while Ford sucks in a sharp breath. I swear to god, just the image of that and those two sounds is enough to flood my panties with slick. The faintest hint of honeyed nectarines floats to me, my perfume burning through my suppressants and descenting soap.
“Fuck,” Asher rasps.
“Is that what you want, baby girl?” Jackson asks, moving closer to us. “You want Topher to fist your pretty little pussy, give you something to lock down on?”
I shudder in Ford’s arms, and he tightens his grip on me, his teeth scraping over my neck. I whimper, a needy, lust drenched sound that has all of them groaning, growling, while alpharomones fill the air, heavy and saturating, filling my lungs and making my pussy clench.
Davis snaps the book closed and slides it back onto the table, before stalking toward me, the erection in his pants drawing my attention. He comes to a stop right in front of me and drags a knuckle down my cheek. “Sorry, beautiful. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
I close my eyes and sag against Ford, trying like hell to ignore the feel of his hard cock pressed against my ass.
Davis’s knuckle presses against my chin, tipping my head up. “You aren’t ready for any of that.” My eyes open again, finding him looking at me with a concerned gaze. “Maybe physically you are, but not emotionally. It’s not fair to get you all riled up when we haven’t earned the right to your slick drenched cunt.”
My eyes slipped closed again. He’s right. As much as my body is ready to just jump right back in where we were seven years ago, I know mentally and emotionally I’m not there yet. “If you don’t want to get me wet, maybe refrain from using words like ‘slick drenched cunt’ in front of me, Davis.”
Everyone else groans as the words leave my mouth, while Davis chuckles and kisses my forehead. “Fair enough, Vee.” He pulls back and flicks his gaze at Ford. “Let’s get our girl to bed.”
And that is exactly what they do. Ford turns with me still in his arms and guides me through the pack of men into my bedroom, where someone has laid out a set of pajamas for me. They leave me alone long enough for me to change, even though a huge part of me wants them to stay, wants their eyes on my naked skin. I grab a fresh pair of panties and slip them on before the matching shorts and tank top combo they selected for me.
I’m still horny as hell when they step back in the bedroom. I want nothing more than to ask one or all of them to stay, to crawl into bed with me and ease the ache they stirred up in me, but I know they aren’t going to. Probably for my sake, more than theirs. I’m sure tomorrow I’ll be grateful for their restraint, but right now, I’m a needy omega and I want a cock inside me.
I slap that need down as I pull back my covers and climb into the bed. Topher is right behind me, helping to tuck the blanket around me, before he bends and presses a kiss to my cheek, before his lips slide down to my ear. “Whenever you’re ready for my fist in your pussy, I’m there.”
Heat strikes anew, and I immediately regret changing panties, because now a second pair is ruined. Why do I even bother with these things? “You are so mean,” I whisper back, before nipping at his jaw.
He pulls back in surprise, eyes heated as he looks down at me. “Don’t be a brat or I’ll have Asher punish you.”
I arch a brow, ready to tell him I am no such thing, but then Asher is pushing him to the side. My quiet alpha bends and brushes the softest kiss to my lips. Nothing like the one we shared at the club. This feels more like a promise, gentle and sweet. When he’s done, he slides his cheek over mine, scent marking me on the other side from Ford. “Sweet dreams, angel,” he murmurs against my ear before he pulls back.
Davis is next. His blue-gray eyes run over me. “Maybe one of us should stay, make sure you sleep through the night? Get the rest you need.”
I laugh. “I suppose you’d volunteer as tribute?”
“Of course, I would.” He leans over until he can speak right against my lips. “Any of us would love to battle you for space in this little bed.”
He just barely presses a peck to my mouth before he’s being yanked back and Ford replaces him. He brushes his cheek against mine, renewing his scent mark. “Sleep tight, pip,” he murmurs. He hovers over me, indecision warring on his face, like he wants to kiss me, but doesn’t want to overstep. I wonder if he’s imagining the last time he kissed me, when I fell off the couch in my scramble to put distance between us. He’s probably worried about eliciting the same reaction now.
I hook my hand around the back of his neck and his emerald eyes widen as I pull him to my mouth. He waits, then melts into me, his chest pressing against mine as our mouths work to devour each other. This is how it should always be, how it should have been days ago when he kissed me. I should have savored it. Not let my fear get the better of me.
I vaguely hear Davis grumble about it not being fair. Ford laughs as he pulls away. I chase his lips and he gives me one more peck before he straightens entirely. One of his thick fingers brushes the hair back from my face. “Sleep tight, pipsqueak,” he repeats, his voice rough. I want him to stay right where he is and just whisper words to me in that rasp. But he stands up and then it’s just me and Jackson.
He stands by the edge of the bed, hands tucked into his pockets like he’s trying not to touch me. I appreciate it, but I don’t want space between us. I don’t want this to feel awkward, especially not after the ease of the evening, how we fell back into our relationship almost like no time had passed.
I hold out my hand to him and he curls his strong fingers around mine, allowing me to tug him closer. He comes with a sigh, kneeling at the bedside next to me to be at my eye level. His free hand smooths over my cheek, down to my lips, where his thumb strokes over the plump flesh. “I’m finding it really fucking difficult to leave you, baby girl.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘so don’t’, but just like Davis already pointed out, I’m not ready for sleepovers yet. I’m not ready to take that next step. Not when I’ve just started to consider forgiving them, about trusting them enough to believe they won’t hurt me again.
He must see it on my face because he sighs and leans forward, nuzzling his cheek under my chin along my jaw, being careful not to remove the marks already left on my skin by his pack. The combination of them is heady and nostalgic. It makes my heart ache and tears form, because it just… feels so goddamn right.
“Don’t cry, baby girl. Please,” he whispers against my neck, and I have no idea how he knows I’m on the verge of tears. “I never want to see you cry again.”
“Not even happy tears?” I ask as he lifts his head.
“Is that what these are?”
A choked laugh pulls from me. “I honestly have no idea.”
The smile he gives me is soft and full of… I don’t let myself think the word. But it’s there. And the realization that he’s staring at me with that emotion blazing in his eyes cuts off my tears and panic forms in my chest. He said it earlier. I heard the words, but… words can be lies. This expression isn’t a lie.
