Page 108 of The Librarian and Her Alphas

“The ceremony went perfectly,” Max says, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my shoulder. “Better than we could have hoped for.”

“But I think our officiant nearly had a heart attack after Gunnar’s kiss,” I giggle, glancing at the alpha in question.

Gunnar smirks, watching me from his seat. “He’s lucky that’s all I did to you in public.”

The darkness in his voice makes me blush almost instantly.

“The babies were so good,” I say, changing the subject before the pulsing heat between my thighs becomes unbearable. “I was worried they might cry during the ceremony.”

“They seem happy staying with your mom and your sisters while we’re gone,” Damon agrees, stroking my arm while I’m still lying on his chest.

“One week,” Max says, squeezing my shoulder. “One whole week of having you all to ourselves, with no two AM feedings or diaper changes.”

“Just two AM knottings,” Gunnar adds bluntly, his eyes darkening as they fix on my face.

My cheeks heat at his words, but I can’t deny the throbbing of my pussy.

It’s been difficult finding time for intimacy with four babies demanding constant attention. The thought of one uninterrupted week with my alphas makes my body tingle with anticipation.

I feel Damon’s large hand resting possessively on my belly through the delicate fabric of my wedding dress, his warmth seeping into my skin.

Without warning, his fingers begin a slow, deliberate journey downward, the pressure just enough to make my breath hitch as he finds the hem of my dress and slips beneath it. His palm is hot against my bare thigh, calloused fingers tracing lazy patterns on my sensitive skin, working steadily higher.

My heart hammers against my ribs, knowing exactly what my alphas have planned for this ride. They’ve been barely restraining themselves for weeks in anticipation of this night.

“Where—” I swallow hard as his thumb brushes dangerously close to the lace edge of my thong. “Where are we going?”

Damon’s dark eyes meet mine, pupils dilated with desire.

“That’s a surprise, little omega,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to that commanding alpha tone that makes my pussy clench instantly. “But I think we need to warm you up first.”

I squirm in my seat, trapped between Damon and Max, feeling their heat enveloping me from both sides while Gunnar watches with predatory intent from across the limo.

“She’s already warming up,” Max observes, noticing the flush spreading across my cheeks. “Her face is very pink already.”

“Let’s see if that pretty blush extends elsewhere,” Damon smirks. He nods to Gunnar, who leans forward without hesitation.

Gunnar’s strong hands grasp the skirt of my wedding dress, gradually bunching the expensive fabric around my waist. The cool air of the limo hits my exposed thighs, making goosebumps rise on my skin.

I instinctively try to press my legs together, but Damon’s hand on one thigh and Gunnar’s on the other keep my legs wide open.

“Max,” Damon orders, “check if our bride is ready for her wedding night.”

“But the driver,” I whisper harshly. The beta driver stares straight ahead and suddenly rolls up the barrier between us. I blush even harder, knowing that the driver knows I’m about to get ravished by my alphas.

My breath catches as Max slides from the seat to kneel on the limo floor between my forcibly spread legs. His freckled face is level with my most intimate parts, his warm breath fanning against my inner thighs as he studies the tiny white thong barely covering me.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, tracing one finger along the lace edge. “White for purity.”

“We all know our omega is anything but pure,” Gunnar chuckles darkly.

Heat floods my face at his words, but I can’t deny the rush of slick that bubbles from my pussy.

Gunnar and Damon spread my thighs wider, their grips bruisingly tight. Max hooks a finger under the thin strip of fabric and pulls it aside, exposing my pussy to their hungry gazes.

“Fuck,” Max breathes, his eyes widening. “She’s drenched.”

I whimper as I feel his fingers brushing through my folds, exploring my wetness with deliberate slowness. My hips buck involuntarily, seeking more pressure, but Damon’s hand moves to my lower belly, holding me firmly in place.

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