Page 103 of Broken Bonds

Would I love to help fuck the new pup to exhaustion for initiation?

Duh, but that’s not the situation the world’s throwing at us right now.

“I mean it about that Burt guy,” Jax says. “I’m damned sure not gonna tolerate a challenge about how we do stuff from an omega who’s only been here a few years. Voting might work in their houses, but we’re a pack and dealing with deadly shit.”

“I know,” I say. “I thought you acted restrained. I wanted to punch him in the mouth for challenging you.”

He snorts and reaches for my hand, squeezing. “Thanks, baby.”

“He’s lucky Mike wasn’t here because he would have absolutely decked him, and then probably booted him from the pack. This is dangerous stuff we’re dealing with, Jax. The pack needs to see you strong and in control. Coddling some little jackass’s feelings because he thinks he should be able to dictate anything to you, of all people, runs contrary to that show of strength. You let him off easy.”

“Pops once told me I was getting soft,” he says. “I thought he was joking. Do you think he meant it?”

“No, I don’t think he meant it the way you think. We don’t—and can’t—do all the things the way Mike and Pavin did when they started the pack a hundred years ago. And I don’t think we should, either. We’ve revised things as times have changed. But we can’t turn into some granola-crunching, love-in hippie commune, either. The world is dangerous. People are dangerous. I’m willing to bet I get a bunch of calls and texts tomorrow from people telling me they agree with what you did.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” I squeeze his hand. “He really got your hackles up, didn’t he?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grumbles. “When’s the last time that little whiner showed up to help with community projects, anyway? I can’t remember seeing him doing anything like that over the past few years. Not even helping with the holiday food drives.”

“Good question.” I release his hand and make myself a note on my phone to check that tomorrow. We don’t require packmates to volunteer, but nearly everyone who is able-bodied pitches in when and how they’re able. Some show up for heavy-duty work, whether it’s helping a neighbor with a building project or assisting with storm clean-up. Some help augment our volunteer fire department, as EMTs, SAR, and even go out with the state Forestry teams to help fight wildfires.

And some help out with things like food and toy drives, and fundraising for charities. Especially around the holidays. A few of our packmates are members of service groups in Brooksville, like Rotary, and I’m proud of how our people always pitch in to help.

The point is, someone like Burt, who never pays his good fortune forward, has no fucking business opening his snout and showing his ass.

When we get home, I make another note to take my car to Brooksville tomorrow to get it detailed since Todd drove it earlier. There’s little chance of Mal’s scent bleeding through, but I’d rather not take that chance, no matter how remote.

Plus, it’s overdue for a good cleaning anyway. I’d rather sit there with my laptop and work while paying them to detail it, if I’m being honest.

When we reach the bedroom, I strip and head for the bathroom when Jax’s hand clamps down, hard, on the nape of my neck, and hauls me back.

He drags me close, his lips by my ear while his thick bulge presses against my ass through his denim jeans.

“Daddy’s got a little rage to blow off,” he growls and…

Yeah. I fucking melt.

What can I say? I’m a slut for my mate.

I mean, I’m a slut regardless, but especially for Jax.

He shoves me toward the bed and I nearly trip over my own feet trying to scramble up onto it because suddenly all the blood in my body appears to have drained straight into my cock.

I hear the zipper of his fly go down and the sound of his jeans hitting the floor before I can even make it halfway across the bed on all fours.

“Stay right there,” he growls, the bed dipping behind me.

He climbs up and I drop my head and shoulders to the mattress, spreading my legs as I arch my back to give him access. It’s pretty much an ingrained response on my end after all these years, because my body knows only good things are about to happen.

“Goooood,” he says, roughly nudging my knees farther apart with his. “Don’t you dare shift or touch your cock, but if you can come, you have permission.”

I barely have two brain cells to rub together to process what he’s saying. As he spreads my ass cheeks I know I’m already slick for him and he shoves in just for me to process he’s shifted.

Moaning, I arch my back even more, fisting the covers as he starts pounding me.

I feel his hot breath against the back of my neck, nails scratching me as he digs in, and stars start exploding behind my eyelids even though I haven’t started coming yet.