Page 68 of Pack Me Up

I kiss her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips, gentle as I can manage.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. The scent of her is pure contentment, golden and thick and sweet.

I never wanted this, I think. I never thought I’d be the kind of man who needed an omega, who needed anyone. But here Iam, wrapped around her like a shield, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

She’s changed me. All the way down to the bone.

Hunter

PHOENIX PACK SECURITY BRIEF #124

PROGRESS REPORTS FROM TEAM HART AND TURNER

April 30th

Brittney is riding me like it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

The nest is a fever dream of scents, heat, and skin. The blankets are knotted into hills and valleys next to pillows stacked like fortresses. The room smells like Brittney’s heat. It’s so thick and sweet that you could bottle it and use it to start wars.

The bite of cooler air against her skin makes every inch of her glow. Sweat slicks her collarbones, beads between her breasts, runs in thin, luminous lines down the inside of her arms. Her hair sticks to her face in wild, dark streaks. She’s so close to the edge she’s vibrating, and every time she drops her hips, I feel the ripple of her whole body shudder through mine.

She gasps and moans with every motion, sometimes soft and whimpering, sometimes loud enough to drown out the sound of my own heart. Her hands are planted flat on my chest, nails digging in for leverage. Her thighs clamp around my hips, holding me in place while she rocks up and down, up and down, desperate for friction, for pressure, for any kind of relief. I keep my hands on her hips.

I could die right now, and it would be the best way to go.

Cody’s behind her, kneeling on the blankets, his hands stroking the length of her spine in long, slow lines. He’s not in a hurry. When Brittney’s body jerks or trembles, Cody steadies her, rubbing her shoulders, dragging his knuckles gently down her back until she melts for him. The look on his face is reverent.

His voice is low and warm. “You doing okay, wild girl?”

She nods, but can’t speak. She’s too far gone for words.

Cody shoots me a smile over her shoulder, just a flash of teeth, pure and wolfish. Then he spreads her knees a little wider, thumbs digging into the creases of her thighs, and shifts closer. He’s hard, and when his cock brushes against the curve of her ass, she whimpers, arching her back to let him in. The tip of him glides along her slick, nudging at her, waiting for the perfect moment to breach.

I know the instant he does. Brittney yelps, then screams, then moans all at once, her whole body tightening around me. The sensation is insane; suddenly, I’m enveloped in velvet heat, the pressure almost too much, the friction so intense it feels like a spark running up my spine. I clutch her hips, not to anchor her but because I have to hold on to something or I’ll lose my mind.

Cody doesn’t rush. He pushes in slow, agonizing inch by agonizing inch, until Brittney’s trembling so hard her teeth chatter. When he’s buried all the way in her ass, he wraps an arm around her waist and holds her there, his chest pressed to her back, his mouth close to her ear. I can see his bicep flex as he keeps her steady, muscles standing out in hard lines under his skin.

“Good girl, taking this cock so deep in your ass,” he says.

I tilt my head back, look up at her, and nearly come from the sight alone. Brittney, caught between us, mouth open, hair plastered to her face, a long, liquid moan pouring from her throat. Her hands scramble for purchase, nails raking over mychest, my arms, anywhere she can reach. She’s shaking so hard I think she might fly apart.

“Fuck,” I gasp. “You’re—fuck, Britt—”

She can’t answer. Her head drops forward, sweat dripping from her brow, lips working uselessly as she rides out the next wave of sensation. Cody picks up a slow rhythm, rocking his hips in time with mine. The motion is fluid, the pressure perfectly synchronized. Every time he thrusts forward, I feel the squeeze, the impossible tightness, the surge of shared pleasure. It’s mechanical, but it’s also deeply animal.

We lose time like that. The room goes soft around the edges, the only things that matter are heat and friction, and the ragged symphony of our breathing. Brittney’s moans get sharper, higher, the pitch of desperation climbing with every stroke. She’s close. I can feel it in the way her walls flutter around me, the way her thighs quiver uncontrollably.

Cody leans forward, mouth pressed to the side of her neck. “Let go for us, wild girl,” he murmurs, voice barely a breath.

She does.

Her orgasm hits so hard she almost knocks me off the bed. She screams, a wordless, tearing sound, her whole body seizing and clenching, back arched like a bowstring. The pulse of her heat is so strong it triggers a chain reaction. I lose it, Cody loses it, and suddenly we’re all coming together, locked into one endless, perfect moment.

I feel my knot swell, locking me inside her, and Cody’s does the same. The sensation is overwhelming. It’s tight, hot, and unending. Brittney collapses onto my chest, her body sandwiched between the two of us, every inch of her shaking, boneless, and spent. Cody holds her from behind, stroking her hair, whispering praise into her ear.

For a long time, no one moves.

The candles burn low. The sweat cools on our skin. The air is thick with the aftermath, a stew of pheromones, satisfaction, and something like peace.