Page 168 of All Packed Up

He continued his path north, leaving trails of chills in his wake. Bunching up the faded brown of the shirt she’d stolen from Tate, he tugged it up, up, until her chest was exposed. Rustling the fabric disturbed the embedded scent, and wafts of creamy smoke invaded her senses.

Alpha.

“Do you think Grif’s hot?” Nic asked quietly.

Wendy’s brow furrowed in confusion, and her cheeks heated at the random question.

“What do you mean?” she asked, breath high and tight. He teased his fingertips all over her belly and chest and thighs and arms—everywhere but her peaked nipples and increasingly damp thighs.

“Well, since apparently we’re gossiping like schoolgirls, I might as well get a turn,” he mused. “I mean, you’ve seen Grif do stuff like build you a bed,” he said, and Wendy gasped, jolting as he brushed his fingertips over her breasts—finally. “Provide food for the pack,” he continued, squeezing his forefinger and thumb around the beaded tips.

Wendy turned her head into Nic’s neck as she felt arousal slicken her thighs. Pack? What—

“Take you shopping.” With her ass between Nic’s thighs, it made it easy for him to tuck his feet around her ankles and tug her legs open.

She bit down on a moan as the cool air brushed between her legs, knew Grif was sitting just inches away, and Nic was completely exposing her to him.

Wendy dug her nails into Nic’s thighs on either side of her as his hands slid lower.

“Well?” he urged, pausing.

Fighting back the urge to roll her hips into his touch, she cleared her throat. “I mean, yeah. I’d say so,” she admitted, gaze flicking to the alpha in question.

His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, dark eyes intent on meeting her gaze, as if the rest of her wasn’t on blatant display.

“You’d say so, huh? Do you need more evidence? I mean, it’s true they’re a few sides you haven’t seen to Griffith before, I suppose…”

Even the alpha in question seemed confused, but the bulge in his pants revealed his interest. Growing desperate, Wendy rolled her hips into Nic’s grip, wanting him to touch her already, wondering where he was going with—

“You’ve never seen Grif’s hips kick as he fucks into you.”

Wendy froze in his lap, but Nic pulled a moan from her anyway by dragging a fingertip over her clit, rolling slow, intent circles in place.

“You’ve never seen his neck stretched long and tensed as you make him come.”

“Jesus, Nic,” Griffith murmured, shifting in place.

Swallowing her next groan, she chewed on her lips before grasping the words she wanted to say. “N-No, I haven’t,” she agreed, eyeing the alpha in question. But she wanted to.

Slow, torturous circles were driving her crazy, sending swirls of pleasure through her just slow enough to build a whine in her throat.

Her legs quivered as she ground herself against his touch, only just enough to offer her friction. Before she could demand more, his hands circled her hips and held her down, keeping her from chasing her own pleasure.

Wendy panted out a whiny complaint as her clit throbbed in time with her pulse. “What are you getting at?” she asked, clamping her hands over his thighs. Desperately, with heat rushing through her veins, she pressed down, trying to lift her hips with the extra leverage so she could grind herself on him. Maybe turn around so she could grind herself on his thigh.

Nic’s amber eyes were half lidded with arousal as he held her down, refused to let her collect her own orgasm.

“Nic, don’t tease me,” she snapped, the words coming out more breathy with arousal, drowning out the irritation.

“Do you want to?”

Wendy’s brain ground to a sharp halt. “What?”

Nic lifted his hands to cup her face, brought her gaze inches from his. “Do you want to fuck him?”

She gasped, visions flashing across her mind of her—and Griffith. Realistically, she knew Nic was nearly the same size as Griffith, but Griffith was stockier, more intimidating. An alpha.

It felt somehow… more dangerous to imagine herself with Griffith. And so, so right.