Page 68 of A Pack of Pumpkins
His grin turns predatory. My shorts and panties vanish in one motion. Cool air slaps my soaked pussy, making me keen.
He gathers my wrists, lifting them above my head to the edge of the table. “Hold on.”
His fingertips trail down my chest. It's painful pleasure over oversensitized skin. When he tweaks a nipple, I grip the table hard enough it groans.
“Sensitive, Darlin'?”
I nod.
“How sensitive? And where?” His cold hand slides down my stomach, over my navel, toward my heat. The contrast makes me shiver violently.
“Keep going,” I rasp.
Finian’s hooded gaze drops to my pussy, slick and pulsing. “Is this all for me?”
I nod. “I need your cock. Please.”
“Oh, Darlin’, I love to hear you beg.”
He strips off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and opens his trousers. His cock is long, thick, solid. One cold thumb circles my clit as he presses inside. His cock is ice instead of flesh. It feels hard and foreign and I'm gushing for it. The first inch stretches me, hot around his icy girth. My eyes roll back.
“You take me so well. Beg for me, Darlin'.”
“Please fuck me, alpha. I need you—oh God, please.”
Heslams in harder, thumb working my clit until tension coils tight. My feet bounce against the table legs.
The orgasm snaps through me, and I cry out, gripping the table. Finian groans, spilling into me. His cool hand cups my cheek.
“I love you,” he whispers—
—and I wake in my bed in the omega suite. Morning light filters in, and I know it wasn’t just a dream. I had my first courting date… with my ghost alpha.
Victor
AmIstupid?Ifeel stupid.
I’m standing in the living room, holding a fistful of orange roses. My palms are sweating, the paper around the stems starting to wrinkle. I shift from foot to foot. The other guys are in various spots around the room. Bram’s already threatened me within an inch of my life. Dagan’s glaring at me. And Jack is ignoring me, which is about as hostile as he gets.
Finally, I hear footsteps coming down from the omega suite. Clara comes around the corner and she takes my damn breath away. Her hair falls around her shoulders in soft waves that make my fingers itch to touch. She’s wearing a maroon dress with orange and purple accents that make her skin glow. A moon pendant rests against the curve of her throat, right where I’ve imagined my mouth more than once.
It’s not any one thing I can point to that wrecks me. It’s all of her, in the same room with me, without her scent turning to ash. The apple-pie warmth of it slides over me, pulling me in like I’m not already halfway gone.
She even gives me a small smile and, fuck my heart, I know I don’t deserve it, but I want it so badly.
“Are those for me?” she asks, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about the flowers in my hand. I thrust them toward her way too aggressively, and she flinches back slightly.
“Sorry,” I mutter, forcing myself to move slower this time. I step forward and place the bouquet in her hands, my fingers brushing hers for a second longer than necessary. Then I pluck one of the orange roses out and break off the stem, leaving just enough to tuck it into the crook of her ear, holding it in her hair.
“Thank you,” she says, and this time the smile is bright enough to make something in my chest twist.
“It’s the least—”
“You can do,” she finishes. “I don’t want you to keep trying to make something up to me. Let’s just move forward as we are. Try again, okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak around the giant lump that’s formed there or the way my scent’s probably giving me away completely.
***
