Page 85 of Pack Plus One

“Caleb!”

He growls against me, the vibration sending another shock of pleasure through my core. His tongue returns to my entrance, fucking in and out in time with the press of his thumb, until I’m writhing, my fingers twisting in the sheets.

“Please, please, please?—”

He adds a second finger, crooking them just right, and I come with a scream, my back arching, my vision whiting out as pleasure crashes through me.

Caleb doesn’t let up. He licks me through it, his tongue relentless, until I’m sobbing, oversensitive and shaking. Only then does he pull back, his lips glistening with my slick, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Now,” he growls, flipping me onto my back again.

His cock teases my entrance, gathering slick but not pushing in.

“Caleb,” I choke out, clawing at his shoulders. “Please.”

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough with restraint.

I meet his gaze, drowning in the green of his eyes, dark with hunger.

“This is real,” he stresses each word. “Not just heat. Not just biology. Remember that.”

And then he pushes in, one agonizing inch at a time, stretching me around his girth until I’m gasping, the pleasure-pain of it making my vision blur. He’s huge, filling me so completely that I can feel him in my soul.

“Fuck,” he growls, his arms trembling with the effort of holding back. “So tight. So perfect.”

When he’s fully seated, his hips flush against mine, he pauses, letting me adjust. My inner walls pulse around him, my body greedily taking what it needs. Another wave of slick gushes from me, easing the way as he begins to move.

He takes me slow, agonizingly thorough, his cock dragging against spots inside me I didn’t know existed. His control is incredible—every thrust measured, every kiss deliberate, his hips rolling in a rhythm that has me clawing at his back, leaving red welts in my desperation.

“More,” I demand, wrapping my legs around his waist, trying to force him deeper, faster.

“Patience,” he murmurs against my throat, his teeth scraping lightly over my pulse point. The threat—the promise—of his bite makes me clench around him, a moan tearing from my throat.

I’m dimly aware of the others watching, their scents heavy with arousal, their eyes tracking every movement, every expression. In any other circumstance, I might feel self-conscious. But in the throes of heat, with Caleb’s cock stretching me open, all I feel is a primal satisfaction at being witnessed, being wanted.

The next orgasm catches me by surprise, washing over me in a wave that makes me cry out, my back arching, my coreclenching around Caleb’s length. He growls in response, his thrusts growing more forceful, his control slipping.

“Mmm,” he rumbles, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me steady as he pounds into me. “Take me, Leah. Take all of me.”

The base of his cock begins to swell—his knot, the part of him designed to lock us together, to ensure his seed takes root. My heat-addled brain screams for it, my body producing another flood of slick in preparation.

“Please,” I gasp, knowing exactly what I’m begging for and not even a little bit ashamed. Ineedit. Need to be filled. “Please, Caleb.”

His growl vibrates through me, his rhythm faltering as his release approaches.

“Oh fuck, Leah.” His teeth find my neck again, scraping but not breaking skin—not claiming, not yet, but the promise is there.

When he finally lets go, it’s with a snarl that seems to shake the room, his knot swelling to full size, locking us together as his release floods my core. The sensation triggers another orgasm, more intense than the first, making me scream his name, my nails carving half-moons into his back.

For long moments, we stay joined, his weight a comforting anchor as aftershocks ripple through me. His breathing is harsh against my neck, his body still trembling with the force of his release.

I’m boneless, sated, drifting in a pleasant haze of post-orgasmic bliss?—

“My turn.” Jude’s voice cuts through the fog, playful but edged with hunger. “Let me soothe her.”

Caleb’s knot has barely subsided enough for him to pull out when Jude’s hands are on me, turning me, arranging me how he wants me. His touch is different from Caleb’s—lighter, teasing,his fingers dancing over my oversensitive skin like he’s playing an instrument.

“Like my hands, omega?” he purrs, dragging them up my thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.