Page 5 of The Princess and the Pack

Our princess looks at me with eyes wide and pleading, just the way I love. Her chest heaves at my touch on her body, and I would sooner die than separate from her.

It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, she and I. But she’s yet to ask me to stop. Cillian can be mad all he wants. This woman, this omega, craves us. He’ll forgive me once he watches our mate come so beautifully on my tongue.

“Tell him,” I insist, knowing she needs permission to truly let go. “Tell your alpha how you’ve waited to give him every part of you. And tell him he’s a fool for leaving me the chance to have you first.”

I lower myself from the settee onto my knees so I can show her what she could mean to me. If she would let me, I would live at her feet and bow to her every whim. “Don’t you see? We are yours to command, Princess. Say the word and we will serve you on our knees, if you so desire.”

Cillian’s widening eyes and Ivy’s continued whimpering set my blood boiling. Soon, they will see it’s useless to deny what’s forming between us all. Fate intended for us to be together; what’s the point of fighting it?

She needs only to ask, and she could have me—have us both—now, forever. Why wait a year for her omega senses to develop? We should take her and keep her for the rest of our days.

Ivy turns her pleading gaze from me to Cillian, saying with her eyes what she daren’t speak aloud. Shehaswaited for him. She’s waited to give her alpha everything. It’s a shame I’m not willing to let him have her.

Not without staking my claim alongside his.

“You’ll let me taste you here, won’t you, love? You’ll let me tongue your pretty cunt while the prince kisses your lips.”

I have no need to question; she won’t deny me what’s mine. She’s wet, wanting, and ready for us. If Cillian had pulled his head from his arse, he’d have realized we could have had her for the last month rather than being frightened to put a toe out of line. Precious time with our omega wasted for no good reason, time I intend on making up for tonight.

Beneath my fingertips, Ivy’s legs tremble. The sheer anticipation of my mouth between her legs has her ready to come right out of her skin. But I plan to keep her right here, straddling the edge of need and desperation until I’m prepared to let her fall into bliss. I see no purpose in rushing a thing as beautiful—as sacred—as pleasing my omega for the first time.

Ivy has yet to answer, but the heaving of her beautiful breasts and the subtle way she spreads her legs further apart gives me the reassurance I need to proceed.

I dip my head, dotting kisses along the bared skin of her inner thighs. She is unspeakably soft here, so lovely and unexplored. I fight the deep need to rub my cheek along every inch of her. To mark her with my scent, sink my teeth into her unmarred skin, and claim her as my own.

“Alpha,please,” she whines, a desperate sound from deep in her throat. And with it, the final thread of the prince’s steely resolve snaps.

“Fuck it,” he groans before grabbing her chin and fitting his lips to hers.

Ivy, the precious little thing she is, mewls. She is utterly shocked at the wildness taking over our normally collected Cillian, but kisses him back as if her life depends on it.

My cock is fit to burst, and I watch rapturously as she gives herself over to pleasure at the hands of her alpha. Though their kisses are messy and hindered by their excitement and shared inexperience, it’s a sight to behold all the same.

This is how Ivy was meant to be. No trivial, earthly bounds such as titles could ever contain her true nature. Cillian was right; she is a goddess—one who deserves to be worshiped by a pack of alphas devoted to her.

I can’t stand to be on the outside of their bliss any longer. Selfish as I am, I grab her chin and tear her mouth from his. Cillian growls, and Ivy whines, but the sound is soothed when I press my mouth to hers.

Though the feral need to dominate, to fuck her mouth with my tongue, burns hot beneath my skin, I’m determined not to rush this first meeting of our lips. Where she and Cillian are frantic and wild, I aim to tease, to draw her out to the very limits of her patience before allowing her to crash into bliss.

Heaven—she feels, tastes, and sounds of it as we touch each other. The way her delicate fingers slide into my hair and tug, how she pushes her tits forward and spreads her legs wider to accept me—every second is heaven on earth.

But my salvation is soon stripped from me when Cillian takes a page from my book and steals her lips for himself once more. Without the sweet reverberations of her pleasured whimpers against me, I’m filled with splitting envy. The pressure of grinding my teeth to keep from gnashing them at my best friend is agony, but I must choke it down.

We agreed to share for the sake of our future omega. If I must suppress the part of me wanting to fight tooth and nail for every ounce of her attention, so be it. I’ll rip apart my very soul to make sure she never knows pain.

Ivy isn’t even my bonded—yet—and I already know this to be true.

Though I crave her kisses, I’m eager to touch and worship every inch of Ivy while her prince has the honor of them. Her neck, for example. Her porcelain skin, now pink with the flush of arousal and the heat from the nearby fireplace, beckons me to taste it.

I’m rewarded with stuttering breaths of surprise and pleasure when my lips trail across the column of her throat. I continue my tender teasing, swiping my tongue along the place I desperately wish to bite and mark as my own. Another moan, another subtle opening of her body to me as she presses her breasts toward my waiting mouth. Though Cillian doesn’t release her from their searing kisses, I need no further provocation to continue my exploratory touches.

I press my mouth to the thin strap of her silken nightgown as I run the backs of my knuckles against a peaked nipple. Her gasp is clear and loud, telling me Cillian has finally pulled his lips from hers so he can watch this next bit.

Ivy and her ample breasts have haunted every moment of my sleepless nights this last month. I’ve longed to feel their weight in my palms—to squeeze and suck and watch them bounce as I fuck her deep and rough into the early hours of the morning. For fuck’s sake, I’m damn near ready to come apart in my trousers just thinking of getting my mouth on them.

Frenzied now, I hook a finger into each strap and tug the material to her waist unceremoniously. The movement lacks finesse, but I can’t stand to wait any longer to see her bare for me.

“Oran,” she cries, shivering as the night air and our hungry gazes touch her skin.

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