Page 71 of The Princess and the Pack

She swallows hard, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her scent responds to mine—blooming so it’s lush, and sweet, and fuckingedible.

“Right. Well, do fuck off,” she calls out directly to my father.

We don’t wait for a response as I take her, hand in hand, toward her nest. Ivy’s just blown our entire lives to bits, but I couldn’t be fucking happier.

I’m going to give her everything.

My knot.

My bite.

The whole of my heart for the rest of my days.

“Oran.”

The rasp of his name rings out around me. Over and over again I hear it called—begging, whimpering,pleading. I think I must be the one who says it, but with the way I’m drifting through the swelling waves of pleasure, I can’t be certain. My limbs are heavy even as my body seems to float.

Immune to my pleas, my alpha does not answer me. Instead, he groans against some sacred spot between my legs. My hands grip soft strands of copper—sweet curls that keep me tethered in the space of here and now.

All I know is bliss—all I see is my mate kneeling before me as he devours every drop of desire I offer him. Darkness teases at the edge of my vision—telling me to give myself over to the rapture that just won’t relent.

“Oran!” I shout, gushing against his tongue as he draws yet another release from my spent body. I can hardly comprehend the length of time my mate has spent licking between my legs like my sex offers some life-giving sustenance.

As the sensation of soaring begins to dissipate and my limbs—my voice—become my own again, I tug hard at his gorgeous hair.

“Oran,” I whimper, soft—breathless. I need a reprieve from the worship of his unrelenting tongue. “Enough, my love. I can hardly stand it.”

When he finally draws breath and peers up at me, his face shines with my release. His stare burns like emerald fire and his scent—gods, his scent—is sweet, sultry smoke.

Oran regards me with smug satisfaction over a job well done. He smirks, using the inside of my thigh to wipe the wetness from his face. My alpha licks there too, resolved not to waste a drop of my taste.

“Should I bite you here, omega? Stake my claim near your sweet cunt?”

My toes curl, back arching at such a devious notion. But—“You won’t have my throat, alpha?”

His answering chuckle is carnal—taunting. “I don’t care where you wear my mark. On your throat—between your thighs. It’s of little importance so long as you’re mine.”

Gods,his offer is so tempting. But my alpha deserves to have his mark where all can bear witness. He isn’t some shameful secret as he previously thought himself to be. I’m more than proud to show the world he’s mine.

“I want your claim where everyone can see.”

“Oh, my Ivy,” Oran coos, kissing my thighs—my cunt—with reverent gratitude. “You are such a sweet omega. You want your alpha to bite you?”

I nod, frantic—begging—until he finally crawls from the floor and onto the bed.

“Do you want me? Tell me now and you’ll have me. Now—forever.”

“More than anything,” I say, ready to give myself to my fractured mate. I need to make him whole with my love—need Oran to fill this space my soul has saved for him and him alone.

Oran grins, shifting so he’s kneeling between my spread thighs and wetting his cock with my slick. “What a sight, love. I can’t wait another second to be nestled deep in your cunt.”

In the space of a single breath, he pushes inside me. I’m certain there’s no end to him—every inch he offers is hard earned and met with gasping pleasure.

His freckled hand splays across my stomach; his thumb teases my clit until I’m whimpering. Every thrust, every soft swipe against my nerves is ecstasy. But when he presses down on my abdomen, I nearly come out of my skin with the bliss it brings.

The pressure is immense, and paired with his deep, slow strokes—I could quite literally soak the sheets with the force of the release barreling through me. But Oran doesn’t relent. He thrusts harder as I wail and thrash against the climax that steals the air from my lungs.

“Ohgods—Oran!”

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