Page 47 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

“Holy shit,” Jude says after several minutes of contented silence. He’s sprawled on his back beside Leah, staring up dazed at her ceiling. “That was...”

“Mmm,” Leah agrees, sounding thoroughly fucked out and pleased about it. She’s draped across Caleb’s chest now, his knot still securing them together as he holds her tight.

“Are you alright?” I ask her, reaching out to brush damp hair from her face. “We were rather... intense.”

She turns her head to look at me, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “More than alright,” she assures me. Her expression turns thoughtful. “I didn’t expect... I mean, I didn’t think it would be like that.”

“Like what?” Mason asks, ever attentive to nuance.

“Like…so right,” she admits softly.

The simple honesty of her words settles something in my chest.

“It is,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. “For all of us.”

When Caleb’s knot finally subsides, Leah stretches languidly between us, her body marked with evidence of our collective passion—light bruises from Caleb’s grip on her hips, the slight redness around her mouth from Jude’s enthusiasm, the lingering imprints of my fingers on her thighs, and the bruise on her neck from where Caleb branded her.

“Water,” Mason announces, and returns with glasses for everyone. I watch as Leah drinks, her throat working, a droplet escaping to trail down her neck, over her collarbone, and between her breasts. Mason’s eyes follow the same path, his usual composure fraying at the edges.

She notices. She sets down the glass and reaches for him, fingers curling around his wrist. “I want you,” she says, voice husky with need, eyes holding his with unmistakable intent.

Mason’s eyebrows rise. “You should rest.”

She tugs him closer, her other hand sliding up his thigh with determined purpose. “Do I look like I want to rest?”

The scent of her renewed arousal hits my nostrils—sharp, sweet, demanding. Mason inhales deeply, his pupils dilating as he surrenders to her pull. She guides him onto the bed, pushing him onto his back with surprising strength, then straddles him in one fluid motion.

“Fuck,” Jude whispers reverently from beside me, his hand moving to his cock, which is already hardening again at the sight before us.

I can’t look away as Leah positions herself over Mason, her slick pussy hovering just above his straining cock. Mason’s hands grip her hips, holding on as she teases them both, brushing her wet heat against his tip.

“Please,” he grits out, the single word shattering his usual calm.

Leah smiles, a wicked curve of lips that makes my own cock throb in response.

Then she sinks down, taking him inside her in one long, slow slide that has both of them groaning.

The visual is searing—her stretching around his thickness, her thighs trembling with the effort of restraint, Mason’s eyes rolling back as she seats herself fully.

“Don’t just watch.” She looks over her shoulder, reaching for me with one hand and Jude with the other. “I want all of you.”

We need no further invitation. Jude moves to kneel in front of her, his mouth finding her breast, tongue swirling around her nipple until she gasps.

I take her other breast, marveling at how her body responds to our combined attention, her skin flushing pink with arousal.

Caleb positions himself at her side, one large hand tangling in her hair to tilt her face toward him for a deep, possessive kiss.

Leah moves on Mason with a rhythm that makes my throat go dry.

The way her body arches, sweat-slick and golden in the dim light, is nothing short of breathtaking.

Caleb’s mouth works down her throat, leaving marks that won’t fade for days, while Jude’s hands roam her curves with a reverence that belies his usual brashness.

She’s vanilla and cinnamon and want, her scent intertwining with ours until the air is thick with it.

I catalog every detail like a man starved: the way Mason’s fingers dig into her hips as he fucks her, the flush spreading across her chest, the desperate little sounds she makes when Jude’s tongue flicks against her clit.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Jude groans, his breath ghosting over her slick folds.

Leah’s response is immediate—her hips jerk, her back arches, and Mason’s usually impeccable control shatters completely. The wet slap of skin against skin fills the room, underscored by Leah’s ragged breathing and the creak of the bedframe.

Caleb moves like a man possessed, one broad hand replacing my mouth on her breast while the other joins Jude between her thighs. “That’s it,” he rumbles, the vibration traveling through all of us. “Take what you need, omega.”

The possessive edge in his voice should chafe, but right now, with Leah spread out before us like a feast, it just feels right.

I press closer, drawn to her like a moth to flame. My tongue traces the salt-damp curve of her shoulder as my hand skates down her spine. “Beautiful,” I murmur against her skin.

She turns her head, eyes glassy with pleasure, and reaches for me. “Liam?—”

I move closer, unsure of her intent until she guides my cock to her mouth.

The moment her lips wrap around me, the world narrows to white-hot sensation.

The heat of her mouth, the way her tongue presses just there, the vibrations of her moans—it’s all I can do not to spill down her throat immediately.

The sight we make is obscene in its perfection: Leah stretched between us, taking and giving pleasure with equal abandon.

Mason beneath her, his usual stoicism replaced by raw need.

Jude between her thighs, grinning like the cat who got the cream.

Caleb at her breast, watching her with dark, possessive eyes.

When she comes, it’s with a cry that shakes the walls.

Her body convulses around Mason, her mouth tightening around me, and suddenly we’re all unraveling—Mason first, his release spilling into her with a groan that sounds like a prayer.

Caleb follows, painting her stomach in thick stripes.

I barely manage to pull free before adding my own mark to her flushed skin.

For long moments after, we’re just a tangle of limbs and labored breathing. Jude collapses onto Leah’s thigh with a contented sigh. “Holy fuck.”

Leah’s answering laugh is hoarse and satisfied. She’s sprawled across Mason’s chest, Caleb curled against her side, my arm trapped somewhere beneath them all.

Mason’s the first to speak, though he makes no move to disentangle himself. “We should clean up.”

“Five more minutes,” Jude mumbles, nuzzling into Leah’s hip.

Those five minutes stretch into twenty before we finally stagger to the shower—all five of us cramming into Leah’s tiny bathroom in a tangle of limbs and laughter. The water’s barely warm when Jude crowds her against the tile, his hands roaming possessively over her hips.

“Turn around, doll,” he murmurs, and Leah goes willingly, bracing herself with palms flat against the wall.

Caleb drops to his knees with a splash, wedging himself between Leah and the wall. The sound she makes when his tongue finds her clit echoes off the tiles.

The water sluices over Leah’s curves, and Mason and I watch from the periphery, our cocks filling again at the sight.

The shower rod rattles when Jude thrusts into her, pushing her harder against Caleb’s mouth. Caleb growls against her skin, the vibration drawing another broken moan from Leah’s lips.

By the time we stumble out, we’re cleaner but no less sated. The dining table becomes our next conquest. Leah bends over it with a challenge in her eyes.

“Think this will hold us?”

The table creaks ominously but holds as Jude takes her from behind. Caleb sprawls across it, offering himself to her mouth, while Mason and I stand sentinel on either side. Her hands find us, stroking in time with Jude’s thrusts.

When we finally move to the kitchen counter, I can’t hold back any longer. I guide Leah onto the cool surface, her legs wrapping around my waist as I press into her.

The moment stretches—her heat, her tightness, the way her breath hitches as I fill her completely.

“Liam,” she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

I don’t move at first, just savor the feel of her around me, the way her body adjusts, the flutter of her inner walls as she takes me deeper.

Jude crowds behind her, his cock sliding against her ass as he mouths at her shoulder. “Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs. “Taking him so well.”

Caleb’s hand joins mine on her hip, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. “Perfect,” he rumbles.

Mason watches from the edge of the counter, his gaze dark with want, his fingers trailing down her spine.

I start slow, savoring every inch of her, every gasp, every clench of her body around me. But Leah—stubborn, demanding, perfect Leah—arches into me, urging me deeper, faster.

“More,” she demands, her nails scoring my back.

I give it to her.

Jude’s hands roam her body, teasing her nipples, her clit, anywhere he can reach. Caleb’s mouth finds hers, swallowing her moans as I drive into her. Mason’s fingers trace the curve of her spine, his touch featherlight but grounding.

When she comes, it’s with a cry that shakes the room, her body tightening around me like a vise. I follow her over the edge, my release spilling into her with a groan that feels torn from my chest.

Jude isn’t far behind, his release painting her stomach in thick stripes as he murmurs filth against her skin.

Dawn finds us sprawled across Leah’s bed in a heap of exhausted limbs. I wake to sunlight streaming through the curtains and two distinct realizations:

First, Jude is exclaiming loudly from the bathroom about mysterious bite marks on his shoulder, his voice echoing slightly against the tile.

“This one is definitely teeth,” he announces, poking his head out of the doorway with wide eyes and a barely suppressed grin.

“And it’s way too small to be Caleb’s prehistoric chompers.

” His eyes light up. “Do you think Leah bit me?” The hopeful pride in his voice is almost comical.

Second, and most significantly, Leah is curled against my chest, one hand splayed against me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

Her face in sleep is peaceful, the worry lines that had creased her forehead when we found her at Zoe’s completely smoothed away.

Her scent is content, soft, without the bitter notes of anxiety or fear.

“You bit me!” Jude emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, pointing dramatically at a crescent-shaped mark just below his collarbone. He’s practically preening, tilting his neck to display the mark like it’s a medal of honor.

Leah blinks sleepily, lifting her head from my chest to squint at him. “I don’t remember that.”

“That’s not how this works!” Jude protests, bouncing on his toes with theatrical indignation while fighting a smile.

“You can’t just go around leaving territorial marks on people and then conveniently forget about it.

There’s a system, a protocol—I should at least get to brag about how it happened! ”

“There really isn’t,” Mason interjects from where he’s methodically arranging muffins on a plate he’s found in Leah’s kitchen. He’s already dressed, though his hair is still damp from the shower.

“Quiet,” Caleb grunts from where he’s sprawled across the foot of the bed, one arm flung over his eyes to block out the morning light. “Too early for this shit.”

“It’s nearly ten,” Mason informs him mildly.

“Like I said. Too early.”

Mason passes out muffins without further comment. His efficiency in taking care of the pack’s basic needs, even in unfamiliar surroundings, never ceases to impress me.

Leah accepts a muffin, her fingers brushing mine as she shifts to sit up properly.

For the first time in days, her scent is completely calm.

She takes a bite, humming with pleasure at the taste, and I find myself captivated by the simple joy of watching her enjoy something so ordinary after the emotional turmoil of the past days.

“These are good,” she says, surprise evident in her voice. “Really good.”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Jude says around a mouthful of his own muffin, apparently momentarily distracted from his bite mark grievances. “Mrs. Finley strikes me as a woman who doesn’t half-ass anything, including baked goods.”

“Speaking of asses,” Caleb mutters, finally sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face, “someone kicked me in their sleep last night.”

Three pairs of eyes turn automatically to Jude, who adopts an expression of exaggerated innocence. “Why does everyone always assume it’s me?”

“Because it’s always you,” Mason, Caleb, and I respond in perfect unison.

Leah’s laugh is bright and unexpected, her shoulders shaking with genuine mirth. “God, you four are ridiculous,” she says, but the fondness in her voice is unmistakable.

“Yet here you are,” I point out, unable to resist reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Willingly surrounded by our collective ridiculousness.”

She catches my hand, her expression turning serious for a moment.

“Here I am,” she agrees quietly. Her gaze travels around the room, taking in each of us in turn—Caleb, still rumpled and half-awake; Jude, animated even in the early morning; Mason, methodically arranging the remaining muffins; me, watching her with probably embarrassing intensity.

“No more running?” Jude asks, attempting to sound casual but not quite hiding the vulnerability beneath the question.

Leah shakes her head. “No more running,” she confirms. “But no more assumptions either. If we’re going to make this work—whatever this is—I need… we need to talk to each other. Actually talk, not just assume we know what the other person is thinking.”

“Agreed,” Mason says immediately. “Clear communication is essential for any functional relationship.”

“What he said, but with less management consultant vocabulary,” Jude adds, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “Also, I vote we install a suggestion box at the brewery for pack issues. My first suggestion: Caleb stops hogging the blankets.”

“My first suggestion: Jude stops talking before noon,” Caleb retorts. He reaches for Leah, his large hand gentle as it settles on her ankle beneath the sheets. “You’re sure about this? About us? It won’t be easy.”

Leah looks down at his hand, then back up to his face. “I’m not interested in easy,” she says. “I’m interested in worth it.”

Something in my chest expands at her words, a warmth that has everything to do with the certainty in her voice.