“What? No, that’s not fair!”
“And I told you not to worry about fighting fair. But don’t worry, when your two hours are up, you’ll have earned more orgasms than youthinkyou can handle.”
The heady scent of her arousal intensifies, but all too quickly, I hear the approach of my next group of trainees. I drop Emily to her feet and make sure she’s steady before stepping back. I say goodbye with a quick kiss on her head and a light slap on her ass before she heads home to wait for me. Letting out a sigh as I adjust myself, watching her leave.
Her hips sway and she shoots me furtive glances over her shoulder on her way out. Such a little tease. Damn, she's perfect.
Chapter 25
Emily
The mid-afternoon light filters through Jackson’s bedroom window, painting golden streaks across the sheets. Sofia’s laptop is still open beside me, the last words from Maya looping in my head.
Hiding that I’m a shifter during therapy is getting harder. Case in point? Maya asked if I grew up in a cult. I had stared at her for a few moments; my mouth opening and closing as I tried to think of a response.
Only to realize that she isn’t actually wrong. Not really. Because, I can’t help but see the similarities between Blood Moon and what I imagine a cult would be like. It’s unsettling. The charismatic yet cruel leader who rules with an iron claw. Blind obedience. Rigid gender roles. Fear disguised as loyalty. No one ever questioning anything. Because it suited the males and the females were too beaten down to try to change anything.
Including my mom. And she’s still there.
I’m so deep in thought that I don’t sense Jackson coming in until the bed dips as he joins me.
“I thought you said you would be naked?” He drawls, and I can’t help the way I flinch. His easy smile fades when he sees me stiffen. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?”
“Sorry, just in my head after therapy. A lot to think about.” Jackson shuffles to sit beside me and puts his arm around my shoulders. I gaze up at him, and his soft expression instantly warms me.
“You never need to apologize for something like that. You know that, right? We aren’t just about sex. I want all of you. The quiet thoughts, the messy feelings—everything.”
I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes, letting his words sink in and his heartbeat calm the chaos in mine. Jackson is the complete opposite of everything I’ve experienced, and I can’t help the tears that form in my eyes as I realize how safe he makes me feel.
You don’t deserve this. He’ll leave you as soon as he realizes how broken youare.
I cover my face in my hands and my shoulders shake as I’m overcome by the fear of what it will feel like when I inevitably mess up and Jackson leaves me. Or rather, when I have to leave him. Because this is his pack, his home, his friends; not mine after all.
Growing up under fear of my dad, then being with Aidan, and finally being alone and injured, were all so awful. But at least I didn’t have something better to compare them to. Now I’ll look back on my time with Jackson and my friendship with Sofia and know what’s possible.
“It’s just so hard. I want to be better, but I’m so… broken,” I choke out. “I’m not good enough for you.”
“Emily, you are incredible. You’ve already survived more than most people could handle. You’re not broken, you’re working through it. And I feel so privileged to be with you. The idea ofyounot being good enough for me is honestly insane.”
“But why?” I choke out. “I don’t get what you see in me.”
“Emily,” he says, his voice taking a stern tone that I haven’t heard since we got together. “You are perfect for me. You’re smart without being a know-it-all, sassy without being a brat, and beautiful without being conceited. You’re empathic, resilient and kind. I was going through the motions before you, but now I feel like I can be happy, like there’s a future I thought I would never get.”
My heart cracks open. His words have me melting into a puddle and burning up at the same time. My tears have dried up and instead, need for him bubbles up inside me. But I don’t know how to share that. I’m afraid of doing the wrong thing and disrupting the beautiful picture of me he has painted.
I always want him to see me that way.
But he knows me too well. “Tell me what you need to make you feel good,” he mutters against my neck, causing goosebumps to erupt everywhere. He kisses along the curve of my shoulder, but I can’t find the words to express myself.
“I… I want…”
“You can do it, baby. Tell me what you need. Do you want me to take you out somewhere nice? Want to go for a run to blow off steam? Want me to draw you a bubble bath? Put on a movie and eat ice cream? Call Sofia over for a movie night? Lick your pussy until you scream? It’s up to you, baby, whatever you want.”
The way he says it—low, reverent, teasing—makes my breath hitch. I clench my thighs, already slick from the thought alone. Jackson doesn’t push anything, and I know if I said I wanted a movie, he would be fine with that. But that’s not what I want in the slightestand I’m sure he knows that too. I’m sure he can smell my arousal because I am dripping with need for him.
“I want you to make me scream,” I whisper after a moment’s pause.
His pupils dilate. “And how would you like me to do that?” He asks, not letting me off the hook for sharing exactly what I want from him. I press my mouth to his and kiss him deeply to buy myself some time before I tell him exactly what I want. I wish I could be unafraid to share with him, but the years of conditioning to never express my own wants has me second-guessing myself.
