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“Come,” he growls, a stern command in his voice. “Come. Now.”
“Ah,” I cry, my body knowing what to do when this alpha gives me a command.
My womb sends soaked shocking heat all through my pussy, my juices gushing down his finger, soaking my panties and my shorts. I shiver and bite my lip to stop myself from screaming, even if Fiona is out for the night.
I bite my lip so hard and focus everything I have on his hand between my legs, his finger probing deeper, whirling around me, my center aching and pulsing.
Finally, it ends, his finger still aside of me, panting as though I was just near-drowning.
I was.
I am.
Drowning in him.
“Are you going to be a good Sparkplug and taste it for me?” he whispers, bringing his come-wet finger to my mouth. I can smell my release. “Suck it clean, Sadie.”
I open my mouth and do as he says, tasting the sharp tanginess of my essence, keeping my eyes on him the whole time, watching the lust shape his features.
“Do you want to do some more sucking?” he growls, sliding his finger out.
I nod, trying to ignore the hammering at the base of my budding confidence, threatening to knock the whole edifice down.
“Yes,” I moan.
He takes a step back, bringing his hands to the waistband of his shorts. I can already see the outline of his manhood, so huge, so hard, a massive length that looks like it could explode any second.
“Good,” he growls. “Because I’ve got something for you to wrap those pouty lips around.”
“Hey,” I laugh. “I don’t pout.”
“You do,” he smirks. “Now get on your knees and—”
Suddenly the house alarm begins to blare, high-pitched and grating.
Jasper’s bark reach us from deeper in the house, deep and growling.
I feel the moment slip away as confusion passes across Saul’s face, and then reluctant conviction as he pulls his shorts up.
“Fuck’s sake,” he growls. “I better see what the hell’s going on.”Chapter TwelveSaulI storm through the house to the front door, grabbing the first weapon I pass—a longsword.
Some of the weapons in my house are actual artifacts and others are modern commissions made by a blacksmiths to look old. But in reality, they have deadly cutting edges.
I wouldn’t want to be the bastard breaking into this house right now, I think grimly, my crotch aching from where my manhood was so hard. Now it’s deflated and my balls are like heavy blue stones, filled with unreleased tension.
I meet Jasper in the wide entranceway, but something’s off about him.
If this was an intruder, he’d still be barking. Now his head is tilted and his nose wrinkled as he sniffs the air. I follow the direction of his nose to the front door, the ornate handle twisting this way and that as the alarm continues to blare through the house.
“Fiona?” I call.
“Dad?” she yells.
I close my eyes and let out a rumbling sigh.
If she hadn’t tripped the alarm, she could’ve caught us.
I need to be more careful in the future.
That thought brings a whole new wave of guilt crashing over me, because here I am, already thinking of a future in which I sneak around Fiona.
Shit.
This is a mess.
And yet I know, bone-deep, soul-deep that I can’t stop what Sadie and I have started.
I stow the sword face down in the umbrella stand and then unlatch the door, stepping back just in time for Fiona to come falling through. I deftly catch her shoulders, my paternal instinct flaring when I see that she’s not just wasted, but way past wasted. At least she’s twenty-one, I suppose, but the sight still triggers a protective instinct inside of me.
“Fiona, what’s going on?”
She stands up as straight as she can, snapping off a salute and then almost stumbles. “Officer Sykes, reporting for duty,” she laughs.
“For God’s sake, Fiona,” I sigh. “I thought you were staying at Jessica’s. I hope you didn’t drive home in this state.”
She shoots me a look, arms folded. “Urgh, obviously not,” she says, her voice one step away from a slur. “Her dad gave me a ride.”
“What? Why?”
“We had a fight,” she grumbles.
I take her by the shoulders again and lead her toward the kitchen, sitting her down at the bar and then automatically begin making her a strawberry milkshake, our usual routine when she’s had a fight with one of her friends.
She laughs when she sees what I’m doing, some of the strangled drunkenness leaving her tone.
“Things never change around here, huh?” she says. “Hey, boy…”
She lets Jasper rest his head in her lap, hopping up and propping his forepaws on the step of the bar stool, her hand idly stroking him and looking down with a smile.
I’m glad she’s not looking at me when Sadie enters the room. Thankfully, she’s put on a robe to cover up her come-soaked shorts, but even so, I have to focus hard to not let myself look at her for too long, at her reddened cheeks and especially her thighs poking temptingly out the bottom of her robe.
