Page 83 of Found by the Pack

“You feel… so fucking big,” she whispers, wonder threading through her voice.

I kiss her neck, moving gently, shallow strokes at first. Her hands cling to me like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat.

Her body adjusts, loosens, begins to meet me. I suck one nipple into my mouth, flicking my tongue until she moans and arches, pushing harder against me.

The pace builds slowly, then steadier, her hips rolling, her voice rising. I grit my teeth, fighting not to lose it, not yet.

Then she shocks me. She licks my jaw, tugging at me with a hunger I’ve never seen in her. “More,” she begs. “Please, Boone—don’t hold back.”

It’s like watching her transform before my eyes, a little feral, a little wild, and god, it makes me want to give her everything.

“Sadie…” I choke out. “I can pull out before I knot, if you want.”

Her eyes flash open, locking on mine, defiant. She shakes her head hard. “No. I want all of you.”

The words nearly break me. I thrust harder, deeper, kissing her like I’ll never stop, letting myself go where she pulls me.

Her cries rise with mine, and when release rips through me, it’s with a raw, shaking groan. My body locked inside hers, my knot catching and binding us together.

She clings to me, panting, her lips brushing my ear. “All of you,” she whispers again, and this time it doesn’t sound like fear. It sounds like a promise.

I don’t know how long we stay like this, locked together, my body still trembling from the force of what just happened. My arms are wrapped around her, my face buried in the curve of her neck.

I feel her heartbeat thundering against my chest. My knot pulses inside her, swollen and tight, holding me in a way I’ve never experienced before.

But it’s not the physical part that undoes me—it’s the way she clings. Her fingers are digging into my back like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

And then I feel it.

Her tears. Hot, quiet, slipping against my skin where her face is pressed to me.

“Sadie,” I whisper, lifting my head just enough to see her.

Her lashes are wet, her mouth trembling, her face turned away as if she doesn’t want me to notice.

I cup her cheek gently, tilting her toward me. “Hey. Look at me.”

She shakes her head, the tiniest movement. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I don’t… I don’t know why I’m crying.”

God, my chest hurts. I press my lips to her damp cheek, her temple. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for this. Not ever.”

Her tears slip faster, spilling down. “It just—it feels different. And I don’t know how to hold that. I’m not used to…” She trails off, swallowing hard. “Not used to being wanted like this. Not used to someone staying.”

The words stab into me. I feel my jaw lock, my arms tightening around her instinctively. She’s not just talking about sex—I know that. She’s talking about everything before this. About all the ways people failed her, left her, hurt her.

“Sadie,” I whisper again, my voice raw. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She closes her eyes, fresh tears sliding free. “You say that now, but?—”

“No,” I cut in, sharper than I mean to, but I need her to hear it. “Not just now. Not just for tonight. I don’t care how long it takes, or how messy it gets—you’re not someone I could ever walk away from. You got that?”

Her breath hitches, and she finally opens her eyes, staring up at me. Something fragile flickers there, like hope she doesn’t trust yet.

I kiss her, soft and steady, even as my knot throbs inside her, keeping us fused. She trembles beneath me, but she kisses me back, and I swear it feels like more than just lips meeting—it feels like something rebuilding inside her.

We stay like that, mouths brushing, hands tangled, while her tears slowly subside. My palm strokes down her back, slow circles meant to soothe. Her breathing evens out, though every now and then it still hitches, betraying the storm inside her.

And me? I’m trying to keep my own emotions contained, but I’m not doing a very good job. I’ve been with women before, casual things, one-night stands.