Page 118 of Found by the Pack

“I can’t—” I choke on the words, shaking my head. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Her fingers catch mine, tugging, anchoring. “Then don’t think. Just… be here. With me.”

It breaks me.

I grab her, yanking her flush against me, my mouth crashing down on hers. The kiss is brutal, teeth and tongue and desperation. She moans into me, and the sound tears through my restraint like paper.

I spin her, pinning her against the wall. The picture frame rattles. My hands are everywhere at once—cupping her jaw, sliding under Shepard’s T-shirt, gripping her bare hip. Her skin is hot, fevered, searing me through my palms.

“Fuck,” I mutter against her lips, biting back the words I want to say.

Mine. You’re mine.

The claim burns on my tongue, but I swallow it down, hard enough to hurt. Because it’s not true. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Her nails rake down my back as I shove the shirt up, baring her breasts. Her nipples are tight peaks, flushed and aching, and I lower my head, sucking one into my mouth. She gasps, arching against me.

“Boone—” Her voice is wrecked, needy, and it undoes me.

I drag her leg up around my hip, grinding against her slick heat through the thin cotton of my pants. The scent of herarousal is thick, clinging, making my cock throb so hard it’s painful.

“I shouldn’t—” My forehead presses to hers, breath ragged. “But I can’t stop.”

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, desperate. “Please, don’t stop.”

That’s all it takes.

I yank my belt open, shove my pants down just enough, and fist my cock, lining up with her drenched slit. She’s soaked, slick coating my length before I even push in.

And then—I do.

I thrust up into her, hard, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, head falling back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut.

“Jesus Christ,” I grit out, every muscle in me trembling. She’s tight, wet, gripping me like she was made for me.

I fuck her against the wall, each thrust driving her higher, the sound of her breathless moans mixing with the slap of skin. My teeth sink into my tongue, holding back the claim that wants to rip free.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Her hands claw at my shoulders, her legs tight around my waist. “Yes, Boone. Yes?—”

I pound into her harder, jaw locked, sweat dripping down my temple. The picture frame finally falls, crashing to the floor, but I don’t stop. Can’t stop.

Her nails dig in, her body bowing against me. She’s trembling, clenching, so close I can feel it in the way her cunt flutters around my cock.

“Come for me,” I growl against her throat. “Come, Sadie.”

Her cry tears through the room, raw and broken, as she shatters around me. Her body convulses, her slick drenching me, her walls gripping tight as her orgasm rips her apart.

I slam into her once, twice more before the dam inside me breaks. I curse, groaning against her neck as I spill deep, filling her with hot, pulsing release.

There’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breaths, the scent of sex and sweat, the weight of her body clinging to mine.

And then reality crashes back in.

She’s still in heat. I can smell it, taste it. She’s still vulnerable, still marked with other men’s scents, and I’m standing here shaking with jealousy and relief all at once.

I hold her tighter, pressing my forehead to hers, forcing my voice steady. “I don’t know how to share you.”