29
Whatever you say, Cinnamon
Saint
T he little lamp on the side of the bed illuminates the blonde with dark eyes; her legs stretched out before her. Artemis lounges on my bed and doesn't notice when I quietly snap a picture of her from the room's entrance.
She's let me keep her in here, locked up with me. I'm more than sure the abundance of snacks I've gone to make her account for some of that willingness. Then again, she hasn't asked to go anywhere. Do anything other than be with me.
Artemis' scent is everywhere, permeating all the fabrics on the bed. I doubt I'll be sleeping in this bed often now, though. Now that she's mine.
Mine, and Jay's, but still mine .
And, actually … Glancing at the clock, I realize that our Alpha should be home anytime now, which is the perfect time to get Artemis out of the house. If only I could be selfish with her for a little longer. Jay will understand. And then later, we can compete and see who can make her cum more.
Immediately, an idea comes to me to do just that. I promised Artemis a few new scraps of lace that she seems so fond of.
I like ripping them off her.
Decision made, I take those few steps toward the bed, gaining her attention. Without warning, I scoop Artemis up from where she lays on my bed, thumbing through a book I brought her on my last snack run. She settles on my shoulder after just one surprised gasp.
"Hey!" She squawks, the book dropping to the mattress, and she swats the top of my ass in retaliation. Admittedly, her books are all beautiful editions with foiling details; some even have reversible dust jackets, or so I'd learned when we put them all on the shelf those months ago, enduring only a little bit of Artemis' gushing over the details of her favorites as she placed them on shelves.
"Hey, Tiny," I reply, patting her on the ass in return, the edges of her underwear silky smooth under my hand. "Where are your clothes?"
"In my room?" She answers, and I don't have to see her face to know she's giving me a silly look while I walk to the bedroom next to mine for her clothes.
"Well, I need you to put pants on- none of these," I order, snapping the elastic of her underwear against her skin. "We're going to a store, so make sure you're comfortable, okay?"
Artemis jolts with the snap and asks, "What store?"
"Don't worry about it. Get dressed," I order, gently setting her on her feet. The breathy quality of her voice has made my wolf crack one green eye open, cinnamon fur bristling in the dark confines of my soul.
"Cryptic?" She replies, raising an eyebrow.
I drop a kiss to her lips quickly before answering with a simple "Yep," and then turning her toward the closet with another quick slap on her ass.
The little squeak she lets out makes my cock throb painfully against my jeans. But, she listens—dressing quickly in black leggings in her and Jay's closet before going to their bathroom. I hear water running briefly before she emerges with a freshly washed face and her hair in a pair of space buns. The shirt she wears is still mine, though.
Holding my hand out for her, we walk back to my room, where I don a pair of jeans and a tee and toss one of my hoodies to Artemis before leaving my closet.
I don't miss the soft smile that spreads across her face as she carefully pulls the garment over her head. When we get downstairs, she stuffs her feet into boots while I slip my feet into sneakers.
When I open the garage door, I ask her, "Will you ride with me?"
Artemis answers after glancing at her sleek, all-black Stingray. "Sure, Cinnamon," While walking toward my Jeep, she asks, "Where are we going?"
"I told you, a store. Well, stores, I should say," I reply while opening the passenger door.
Artemis whips her head toward me as she hops into the passenger seat. " Stores? As in plural?"
"Nice catch," I grin, closing her door. Instead of walking around the back, I use the side rails to step up on the fender of the Jeep, then somersault over the hood, landing on the driver's side. Artemis' laughter greets me as I open my door.
"Where are we going, Saint?" she asks again, laughing the entire time as I climb into the driver's seat, turn the ignition, and push the garage door button simultaneously.
"Well, I need to pick up a few things at the farmers market for dinner tonight, and I believe I told you earlier I'd replace the scraps of lace you call underwear," I reply as we pull out of the garage and down the drive.
Artemis stays silent for barely three seconds before she asks, "What are you making for dinner?"
I can't help it; I laugh out loud, navigating the streets toward the town center. Jay's blue GTR passes us on the main road, staring me down as we drive in opposite directions. I give him a two-finger salute as he passes.
"What is it that you hope I make?" I ask instead of telling her what I'd come up with just after deciding we were going out.
"Hmm," Artemis hums, tapping her finger against her chin. "Honestly, pizza and wings sound amazing." She winces when she looks at me, though, her eyebrows scrunched together in a way that makes her look adorable. She's gorgeous, always, but the way her face shows all her emotions when she lets you in is almost comical—and therefore adorable.
"Why the face?" I ask, reaching out to grip her lush thigh.
"Because I don't want you to make it, I want to order it from Delmonicos because they have the best homemade ranch," She gushes, still looking comically guilty.
"Okay. So we'll get the steaks from the farmers market anyway and have them tomorrow. Then, after we go shopping, we'll order your pizza and even share it with Jay," I grin, pulling into the parking lot for the little market. It's more of a co-op since the store is open daily and supplied by local farmers. Of course, there is the larger supermarket in town, though steaks taste better when you know the cow it came from.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah, of course. I like cooking, but not having to sometimes is nice, too."
Artemis gives me a look I can only classify as bedroom eyes, with a slow tilt of her head sideways that makes my cock throb. "Whatever you say, Cinnamon."
"Come on, Tiny," I reply, getting out and offering her my hand to climb out the driver's side. The bucket seats make it easy, and I'm more than sure she would have been able to scramble out even if it wasn't. The girl is fucking nimble.
"Why?" She asks, but places her hand in mine anyway, climbing out of the vehicle.
"Because if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to fuck you like a little slut again right here in this parking lot."
A surprised gasp leaves her mouth as a deep, red flush spreads across her neck and cheeks; that circle of gold flaring around the center of her pupil makes my blood rush.
"Well, I suppose we can't have that, can we?" She asks, flicking her eyes down and back up for a heartbeat.
Grinning, I reply, "Oh, but we could. I'd spread your pussy open right here if you allowed it, Artemis," while moving, pressing her back against the side of my Jeep, wedging my leg between hers, trapping her in against the vehicle.
I saw Jay do this to her when she first arrived and then watched them fight their way into the Packhouse. I know how much it turns her on since that night outside Coyote Bills. The push and pull winds her up faster than anything else.
That golden ring flares brighter from within those big brown eyes, and my cock throbs almost painfully again when she shifts her hips.
"And what would be the first step, hypothetically speaking, of course?" Artemis asks lightly, raising her eyebrow, cool fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt.
My pulse skyrockets.
"Well," I begin, letting my hands roam to her hips and down her ass, squeezing the plump, juicy muscle. She inhales sharply when I roughly rock her against my thigh. "I did tell you not to put panties on. Did you listen, Tiny?"
Artemis gulps, her cheeks darkening to a deep pink. "What if I did?" Her tongue presses against the points of her teeth, and she shifts her hips against my thigh again, just a little.
"Well then, hypothetically, I would turn you around, press your pretty face against the hood of the Jeep and fuck you, Tiny."
"Just like that?" She asks, in that light, almost breathless tone.
"Mhm," I hum, then add, "Unless you have a better idea." I don't let her answer, though, needing to kiss her before I explode.
She meets my kiss, tilting her head back and opening her mouth to suck on my tongue. The sound that leaves my throat when I pull away could only be described as wolfish. The low grumble of satisfaction came more from my beast than my throat.
"What if I wanna kiss you again, Cinnamon?" Artemis hums, nimbly tucking her fingers down the front of my jeans, cool fingertips just barely brushing the base of my throbbing cock.
"W-" I stumble when she pushes her hand down my pants more fully, grabbing onto me and running her thumb over the head of my cock. "Well then, I guess I'd just have to pick you up right here, wrap these thighs around my hips. I'd make due," I croon, bending to kiss her neck. The pulse at her throat jumps with the contact, but I have to stop because I can see a family walking out of the nearby library that shares this parking lot.
Stepping away from Artemis, I give the approaching family with the small children singing the ABCs in high-pitched squeals my back while I struggle to contain myself.
If it hadn't been for them, I'm not sure I would have been able to resist sinking into Artemis, capturing her moans with my mouth. Taking her quickly, roughly, for the fifth time today.
When I offer my hand to Artemis to lead her into the store, I can't help but laugh a little, and she smirks in return, lacing her fingers with mine.
I'm going to have to find somewhere to pull over and fuck her again before I have to share her with Jay. Leave her dripping with me before he gets his hands on her. Already, I'm planning a different route for the drive home after getting pizzas.
"Do you need anything other than the steaks here?" Artemis asks as we walk towards the entrance, tongue still running along the points of her teeth—an almost unconscious motion. My wolf paces in my mind, watching, waiting for his turn.
"Yeah, a few herbs and some butter," I reply, opening the door to the market for her.
Artemis hums in response, slipping through the door and grabbing one of the little green shopping baskets. "Lead the way, Cinnamon."
The smile on her face makes my heart race, and my wolf watches her from the depths of my mind, observing her every move—her every breath.
With a nod, I direct her to the right, down the produce aisle to where the herbs are stored.
Artemis
I follow Saint around the little market carrying the green shopping basket, the cold metal biting into my hands. He smiles and waves at almost everyone here, blonde curls bouncing with every step he takes down the aisles.
Saint carefully chooses his items, making sure the herbs are good-colored. Holding them to his nose, he inhales the aromas before depositing them in the basket. Sprigs of fresh rosemary and thyme are bundled nearly in a bit of twine, the scent so powerful I can smell them without putting them up to my nose. Alongside the herbs, Saint also grabs a handful of garlic bulbs, fresh butter, milk, and a few blocks of farm-fresh cheese.
On my way past the display, I snagged a bag of spicy cheese curds and put them in the basket for a ride-home snack.
Then again, the way Saint's hoodie rides up every time he leans to grab an ingredient makes me want to devour him on the way home.
"I'm no chef, Saint, but to my knowledge, steaks don't need cream and cheese to be made," I comment when he places yet another block of cheese in the basket.
"That is correct, Tiny." He replies, shooting me that goofy grin again.
"So, what are you making?" I press, accepting a container of heavy cream.
"How do we feel about homemade mac and cheese?" Saint asks, taking the now nearly full basket from my hands.
"I feel fucking amazing about it, Cinnamon." I immediately reply, mouth already watering.
"Perfect," Saint replies, smiling at me.
"What's the special occasion?" I ask, grabbing the steaks he points to in the butcher's aisle.
"Who said there was?"
"Well…" I start, keeping stride with him as we meander around the market. "My mom never really went through the trouble of making a homemade Mac unless there was a reason for it." I shrug, depositing a few kiwi fruits into the basket as we pass.
This is how I'd fed myself on the road. Wandering around a store and picking out a handful of items that spiked my appetite. The fact that Saint enjoys cooking will never get old to me.
"No special occasion, Tiny. I cook what I feel like. And right now, among other things, I could eat my body weight in fresh steaks and mac soon; that's all." Saint grins again, making my heart race. "Does that sound good to you, Tiny?"
"Sure does, Cinnamon. But for tomorrow, right? I still want pizza," I return his grin, re-lacing our fingers as we walk toward the checkout lane.
"Duh, now that you've said it a few times, I also want pizza. How do you feel about stuffed crust?"
"I feel amazing about stuffed crust," I repeat, just as we get to the checkout. Saint unloads the basket quickly, jogging over to replace it in its little holster at the entrance, while I merely place the steaks down.
Saint and the employee working the checkout lane chat back and forth as the employee scans our items and deposits them in a brown paper bag. I admire their various piercings and bright purple hair.
"Have a nice day, folks," They say, holding the receipt.
"You too, I love your hair, by the way!" I reply, taking the slip of paper and Saint's hand again after he lifts the bag of items.
Once we're back in the Jeep, groceries safely placed in the backseat, seat belts buckled across our chests; I ask, "Where to next?"
"I recall promising you replacements for your scraps of lace," Saint drawls as he puts the vehicle in reverse, backing out of the space and then navigating the roads of Timber Hollow once more.
"That is true you, did do that," I simper back, wishing the ground wasn't wet so I could tuck my feet under myself on the seat. But alas, slushy snow is just about everywhere today.
"What's wrong?" Saint asks when he catches my grimace.
" I hate snow ," I whine, lifting my wet boots to indicate the source of my lament. They're wet.
Saint laughs and practically howls with it. It only takes a moment for my laughs to join his.
And then, altogether too soon, we arrive at a little boutique, set in the central square where the buildings are all just about as old as the town, smushed together in a long strip with big window fronts. Saint pulls into one of the open spots in front of the building, as indicated by the sign out front. Freyja's Closet.
"How long has this store been here?" I ask, trying to remember what had been here when I'd been in school.
"Don't know. Maybe a few years?"
"Wolves?"
"Cats, actually. Some type of Norwegian shifter. They gave me the recipe for Kagecreme, which you liked so much."
"Well, then, I must make friends!" I chirp before prowling towards the bright pink door that is decorated for the season. The entire storefront is lit up with pink glowing lights and tinsel twinkling in the dusk. That specific shade of pink also decorates the door of one Agnes Hunt. Immediately, I knew she would have helped the shifters settle in the Hollow.
Saint's laughter follows me into the cozy boutique, shaking snowflakes from his hair as he enters. Almost instantly, the pretty feminine store feels too small for Saint and his aura.
We make it only a few steps into the store when an employee greets us in a cozy-looking pink long-sleeved dress. The tag on the dress indicates her name, Sigrid, and her pronouns in small parenthesis.
"Welcome to Freyja's Closet. Is there anything I can help you find?" she asks with a broad, friendly smile.
I'm about to wave her off in favor of wandering the sore by myself when Saint speaks up. "Actually, yes, it seems I owe my girlfriend a few new pairs of lacey bits," he says, slinging his arm across my shoulders.
That's it. I'm evaporating immediately.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I jab my elbow into his side in retaliation. A satisfying grunt leaves his mouth on contact. "Underwear, specifically," I rush to speak before Saint can open his mouth again.
To her credit, the woman merely smiles and guides us over to a corner. Various garments are displayed on the walls and in a circular display. "Do you have any particular styles in mind?"
"I'm not sure. I'll have to look at what you have," I answer, giving her a small smile.
Sigrid takes the hint and replies, "Well, let me know if you have any questions or need any additional sizing. I'll be just over there."
When she walks away, Saint snorts, leaning against a nearby pillar. "What's the matter, Tiny?"
"Just wasn't expecting you to tell a stranger that you like to rip my underwear, Cinnamon, " I fire back, looking through the piles of lace and cotton. "Unless you know her?" I add on, and he shakes his head.
"I didn't say that," Saint fires back with an amused grin, crossing his arms. It makes his hoodie ride up, just a tiny peek of that vine tattoo visible above his jeans.
"Might as well have," I grouse, tossing a few black pairs at him with duplicates. A wolf can never have too many black pairs. "Hold these," I demand, not seeing if he catches them all.
"Are you embarrassed, Artemis?" Saint coos, making me roll my eyes.
" No, I just prefer to be warned that my boyfriend is going to scandalize a poor shopkeeper. She doesn't need to know you like to rip my underwear or that you like it when I put the scraps between your teeth, either." I hum, tossing another few pairs at him, this time in his and Jay's favorite colors: red and orange.
Saint throws his head back, groaning before he says, "That's not fair, Tiny."
I just laugh at him, selecting an additional pair in a different size for my mountain’s birthday in a few months.
As quickly as I pick out my new lacy bits, we check out and leave the small boutique. The blanket of night has been pulled over the forest already, and as my butt lands in the front seat of Saint's Jeep, my stomach rumbles loudly.
"Pizza time?" Saint asks, chuckling. He then pulls out his phone to look up the shop’s number and place our order.
"Please!" I demand, locating my cheese curd from the brown bag from the market.
Saint places the order quickly and succinctly, laughing with the person on the other line like they know each other personally. Which, I guess, they might. My lack of interaction with most of the Pack is becoming annoying.
I rarely know who anyone is talking about if the boys discuss Pack drama or gossip at the Cabin.