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Somebody I’m sure I’ll see later. Oh, no. What if he won’t leave me alone? Dad talked about the other guys maybe wanting to challenge him for me. Is that going to happen? What if he stays near me to make sure none of the others try to get close? Like I need more anxiety.
I’m going to enjoy having my own private bathroom now rather than let myself dwell on who else I know will be at the banquet taking place in the meeting hall later. My would-be fated mate. I still don’t know whether Wilde’s brother Forrest understands what he did or if he feels sorry for it. I hate him worse than I hate his brother, which is saying something. They both ruined my life in their own way.
And just like I can’t stop craving Wilde, I can’t stop wanting Forrest. Rather, my wolf can’t stop, but what’s the difference? I still want to fall on my knees and beg them both to fuck me in any and every way possible, whether the desire comes from my wolf or from my human side.
I almost did when I saw the two of them headed for Daniel’s home earlier today. My visit with Sasha came to a quick end once I spotted them across the street and everything else in the world faded away in favor of my skin flushing, my heart pounding, and my pussy flooding. Sweat beaded on my forehead, thanks to the strain of holding myself still. I could see myself running outside, dashing across the street, and begging them to take me. Either one. Both. It didn’t matter.
Once they were out of sight, I decided it was best if I went to my room. That’s where Dad found me. I was relieved to have an excuse to stop thinking about them, but now they’re all I can think about. Even the bathroom with its fancy multi-jet shower isn’t enough to take my mind off the horny hell they’re putting me through. I’m going to have to see them tonight. I can’t hide—or rather, I could, but Daniel would never stand for that. I guess I made a name for myself after the first shift. If I’m not there, members of other packs might notice.
It doesn’t take long for me to put my clothes in the dresser and closet. I’m going to have to go shopping if I have any hope of filling either of them. Emma was nice enough to lend me a dress for tonight since I didn’t have anything appropriate for a banquet. Our sense of style couldn’t be more different—it’s low cut, a little shorter than I would like, thanks to the couple of inches in height I have on her. But the light blue color brings out my eyes and hair as I hold it up in front of myself, checking out my reflection in a full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. My room downstairs could fit easily into this bedroom, and it’s so bright and sunny. There was a window in the old room, but it was small and didn’t let much light in. I don’t know what to do with myself, having all this space and sun.
Everything’s changing so fast, and I can’t keep up when most of my attention is focused on wanting to get laid.
Strange, but in my mind’s eye, I see an interesting scene playing out. What would it be like to walk into that banquet and have both Wilde and Forrest want to claim me? I wonder if I could drive them as crazy as they’ve been driving me. This is all so new. Nobody’s ever paid attention to me before, not sexually. I wasn’t worth more than torturing and beating. But now, it’s like I have this new power to go along with my newly arrived wolf. For once, maybe I can have a little fun.
The thought gets me into the shower, where I play with the different heads until a steady stream of water hits me from all directions. It’s incredible, the pressure enough to work my muscles and loosen me up. There’s plenty of space in here, too. I wonder if there’d be enough room for a partner…
“Fucking stop!” My voice is almost deafeningly loud, but it shakes me out of the direction my thoughts are headed, anyway. It’s bad enough that neither of them really wants me. Why does my wolf insist on torturing me, forcing me to think about them? No, to fantasize, which is so much worse. I scrub myself down quickly before the desire to touch myself and relieve my tension leaves me wasting valuable time. I’m not used to getting dressed up for special events, so I fear this is going to take a while.
I wish Emma was here to help me get ready. We might even have fun. Instead, I have to fumble around on my own, burning my fingers on a curling iron a couple times before getting the hang of twisting my hair around the barrel, repeatedly wiping off my makeup when it turns out too heavy. I’m not trying to look like a clown.
