Page 49 of Pack of Crooks

Massaging my head, he makes a show of studying my face. “Beautiful.”

“You didn’t even see the dress.”

He lowers his face until we trade breaths, mouth inches from mine. “I don’t have to.” And then he claims my mouth, fingers working magic against my skin, tongue caressing mine, drowning me in his scent and touch until every inch of me is vibrating with need.

Then he retreats, dropping into his seat, eyes hooded as they roam down my body. “Fucking perfection.”

I step toward him, but Ezra intercepts me, spinning me around and undoing the zipper. “Hey!”

“We came for a show, pretty thief,” he murmurs, brushing the arms of the dress down my arms and letting the material flutter to the floor. His warmth washes over me, but his body is inches away. “What do you want to try on next?”

“Your pack,” I rasp.

He hums. “I bet you would, but I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re excited to watch you play dress up.”

My eyebrows pinch. “You don’t want to have sex?”

“Trust me,” he murmurs, one hand snaking around my body and the other locking around my throat. His body presses into mine, all hard planes and strength, and his mouth finds the shell of my ear. “We all want to fuck you.”

“So do it,” I say, dropping my head back and gazing at him with his hand-necklace around my throat. “Fuck me.”

His smile is wolfish, a little wicked. “Patience, omega. All good things come to those that wait.”

Frowning, I say, “I’ve never been very patient.”

“I figured you always take what you want,” he says with a dark chuckle. “But your pack wants to watch you try on theseclothes. Are you going to be a good omega and do as you’re told?”

Ugh. When he puts it like that. “Okay.”

His hand strokes up and down my neck, and he brings his mouth to mine. “Good girl,” he whispers before kissing me. I reach up and slip my fingers through the strands of his hair, holding him tight and opening for him, pressing my ass into his erection and rolling my hips. His free hand drifts down to stop me, and he laughs when I growl—pulling back to stare at me like he wants to memorize the moment.

“Try on the burgundy skirt and black blouse.”

I narrow my eyes as his hands fall away from my body, fighting the urge to stomp my foot and demand they fuck me. That would be childish, but fuck if I don’t want to throw myself on the ground and scream until there are three dicks inside me.

Control yourself, woman!

Body on fire, I grab the skirt and blouse, eyeing the naughty one of the pack. If anyone will break control first, it’s Kill. His eyes glitter with amusement as I saunter toward him. I drop the clothes into his lap, rest my palms on his legs and lean toward him, brushing my nose against him.

“Will you help me, alpha?” In case it isn’t clear, I’m not talking about the clothes.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Kill grabs the skirt, and much to my annoyance, moves to help me put it on.

With a growl, I yank the clothes out of his hand, throw them over my shoulder, and climb into his lap, not giving a damn that I practically maul him with my tits. “That’s not what I meant.”

He laughs, hands finding my ass and helping me slide into the perfect position. Right over his throbbing cock. “I know what you meant,” he rasps.

“Why won’t you fuck me? I want you to,” I complain, rocking myself over his length. “Do you want me to beg? I’ll do it.”

He groans, glances at Ezra and Maddox, who both shake their head, and looks back at me with regret. “As much as I like the idea of you crawling to me?—”

I’m up and out of his lap in an instant, moving to the far side of the fitting room and sinking to my hands and knees, arching my back and slowly making my way toward him. He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring as he breathes me in.

“I’ll be a good omega,” I tell him, slowly making my way toward him. “The best omega,” I murmur, glancing at Ezra and Maddox who are staring so intently my entire body electrifies. That’s right, boys. I’m the omega.

Their gazes are locked on my body as I close the distance and stop before Kill, staring up at him through my lashes and pouting my bottom lip. “Please, alpha. Please fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he says, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Tell me why I can’t knot her again?”