Page 14

Chapter 13

Midnight Snack

Ecker

I turn over for what feels like the dozenth time. My head flops onto the pillow with defeat. It’s been hours since we went to bed, and even longer since we discovered Grandma Azurite’s diary. Between Fortitude Trial flashbacks and replaying what we learned in the journal, my mind hasn’t stopped racing for a second.

Apparently, I’m not the only one being kept up by my racing thoughts.

“Can’t sleep?” Sinclair whispers, Bishop asleep on the other side of her.

“Yeah.” I sigh.

“Okay, c’mon.” She kisses my shoulder then nudges me.

I slide out of bed. She tries to scoot off after me, and Bishop wraps his arms tighter around her in his sleep. Pursing her lips with an amused smile, she tries to carefully loosen his grip.

He mutters sleepily, “Where are you going?”

“Midnight snack.” She brushes her lips against his knuckles before fully untwining his arms from around her.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles and rolls over.

Sinclair tiptoes across the floor to her dresser. She pulls out a tee shirt dress and a pair of underwear while I search for my boxers among a heaping pile of discarded clothes from all four of us. Once I find them, we sneak out quietly, leaving Titus and Bishop in bed.

“So, midnight snack, huh?” I throw my arm around her shoulders.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, leaning into me.

We make our way through the dark, quiet halls to the dining hall and adjoining kitchen. I didn’t check before we left, but if I had to guess, it’s between two and three a.m. Too early for even the breakfast staff to be here yet.

“Let’s see what’s on the menu.” Sinclair practically skips to the giant commercial fridge. 1

“Does this look like pancake mix to you?” She points to a huge container of what indeed looks a lot like pancake batter. “They probably won’t notice if a little’s missing.”

She goes to pull it out, and I run up behind her to help. I cover her hands with mine and drag it off the shelf. The entire thing probably weighs close to thirty pounds. We waddle in this standing spoon position to the stainless-steel counter.

“This is extremely inefficient.” She laughs.

Once we set the batter down, I keep my arms wrapped around her waist and tighten them. She rolls her head onto my shoulder, and I kiss up and down her neck.

“Are you on the menu tonight, Omega?” I murmur into her skin.

“Food first,” she insists.

I flick my tongue against Bishop’s bite, and she sighs pleasurably. Whether consciously or not, her ass grinds back against me, and I nip her neck with a light growl. Everything about her makes me hungry for everything/anything but food.

I decide to play dirty.

One of my hands lightly caresses down the outer curve of her hip to her thigh, until I reach the hem of her short dress. My fingertips dust her bare skin, as light as a feather, while my other hand glides up her breast. I fill my palm and pinch her already-pebbled nipple.

I slip one hand under her dress at the same time I move my hand from her breast to loosely collar her throat. She releases a shaky exhale as my hand delves to her inner thigh.

I chuckle softly but arrogantly. “Tell me again how you want food first.”

Her knuckles whiten where she grips the counter. The smell of her desperate pussy fills my lungs.

“Food. First.” She spins around and pushes me back. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh, baby girl, so am I.” Her hand lands on my shirtless chest when I try to step close. She raises her brows as if daring me to try again. “Alright.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “Food first. But these better be the best damn pancakes of my life.”

“You’re a dog.” She laughs with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Damn right, baby.” I chuckle. “I’ll bark too.”

“Okay, these actually turned out perfect.” Sinclair dazzles at the stack of perfectly round and golden-brown pancakes on her plate.

I set a bowl of fresh whipped cream and another of sliced strawberries on the table and sit down next to her on the dining hall’s bench. “You sound surprised.” I laugh.

“My culinary expertise extends as far as scrambled eggs and mac and cheese from a box,” she admits with a bashful smile.

“Well, let’s see how they hold up to the taste test.” I put a generous dollop of whipped cream on top of my stack, then throw on a few berries. She watches me cut off a bite and eat it.

I chew it a few times with an uncertain look, then swallow like it’s hard to get down.

She huffs a laugh. “God, that bad? I didn’t even make the batter. How much could I have messed it up?”

I smirk and go in for another bite.

“Oh, you asshole.” She laughs and slaps my arm.

“They really are perfect.” I talk out of the corner of my mouth, already full with another bite. Once I finish it, I add with a wink, “For real, might be my second favorite meal.”

Her eyes crinkle with a smile so pure and genuine, it nearly takes my breath away. I forget about “my new favorite meal” and simply watch her take her first bite.

“ Mmm,” she moans, her eyes rolling back like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

The rest of the meal continues just like that. It’s casual and simple and so goddamn perfect. I can almost imagine we are a normal couple eating pancakes on a lazy Sunday morning before returning to our unexciting but fulfilling jobs Monday.

As I finish off my last bite, a bit of whipped cream drops onto my bare chest. Sinclair notices and before I can wipe it up, she turns me toward her and licks it off. One lascivious drag of her tongue while her blue eyes remain locked with mine.

That’s all it takes for me to say fuck being normal. I only want to be us.

I grab her throat and pull her in for a rough kiss. She tastes sweet, but her pleased moan as I lick the cream from her lips is even sweeter. I pull us apart and shift to straddle the bench. She traces her teeth with her tongue and her eyes subtly glow while I drop a spoonful of cream intentionally onto my chest.

She starts with a long, tender kiss to either pec, then her eyes jump to mine as she flicks her tongue out and around my nipple. Slowly, she teases me, dragging her lips over my skin and her hands up and down my thighs.

My cock thickens and my skin ignites with every touch. Finally, she laps up the whipped cream, which has now slid from my sternum almost to my belly button. I lean back to give her room to lick the entire path, but she doesn’t stop there. I groan, tortured, as she licks up my throat and sucks on my earlobe.

“Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees,” I growl through gritted teeth.

With a devilish smirk, she slinks off the bench and to the floor. I rotate to face out from the table, and she wastes no time palming my thighs and then my bulge. Her slender fingertips dip inside the waistband of my boxers.

She pulls them down and wraps her hands delicately around my shaft. I get another spoon of cream and let it slide off the spoon onto the head of my cock.

“Now, you can really put that wicked tongue to work.”

1. “Sweet Moment” by Mackenzy Mackay