Page 64 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
“That’s it,” Rowan encourages, his voice husky with desire as he watches. “Take what you need from us, Emma. Show us how much you want it.”
Theo’s other hand slides two fingers inside me before he sucks the sensitive bud between his lips.
“Please don’t stop,” I beg, my voice breaking as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable level. “I’m so close, so fucking close…”
“Such a good omega,” Roman whispers, leaning down to take my nipple between his teeth, adding a sharp counterpoint to the wet heat between my thighs.
When Theo adds a third finger, stretching me deliciously while sucking hard on my clit, I explode. My second orgasm hits even harder than the first, tears springing to my eyes as waves of pleasure crash through me. I’m vaguely aware of crying out their names, of my body arching off the blankets, of slick gushing against Theo’s eager mouth.
“Fuck, she’s drenched,” Theo groans, his chin glistening with my arousal as he looks up at me with hungry eyes. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”
Before I can catch my breath, Liam is sliding down my body.
“My turn again,” he says with a grin.
“I can’t,” I say, panting. “What about all of you?” I gasp, still trembling from the force of my climax.
“You can,” Rowan insists. “We plan to make you come all fucking night.”
God help me.
27
Emma
Iwake to the smell of coffee, stretching languidly between warm bodies. The past week has been a revelation; sleeping surrounded by my mates, their scents mingling with mine until I can barely tell where I end and they begin. We’ve established a routine; Theo brings breakfast, Rowan handles security checks, and Liam ensures Maple is fed before joining us for morning cuddles.
No claiming yet; waiting until my heat will create the strongest possible bond. But there is still plenty of pleasure to be had: their mouths and hands learn every inch of me, my body responding with an eagerness that would have embarrassed me before.
They have more than proven to me how much they care, and it only makes me want them more. I’m not used to such selfless devotion; normally, alphas just want a warm place to put their knot.
Today, though, anxiety twists in my stomach. Saturday is reopening day. Crowds of strangers will flood the farm, and somewhere among them could be Marcus. His email haunts me: “Expect me soon. I’m sending a gift.”
“You’re tense,” Liam murmurs against my neck, his large hand splayed protectively across my stomach.
“Just nervous about today,” I admit, pressing back against his solid warmth.
“We’ll be with you all day,” Theo promises, setting a mug of coffee on the nightstand before perching on the edge of the bed. His hair is adorably mussed; his smile gentle. “All three of us. No one’s getting near you without going through us first.”
I try to match his smile, but my lips feel stiff and worried. “I know. It’s just… Marcus doesn’t play fair. He never has.”
Rowan emerges from the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. “Then it’s a good thing we don’t either,” he says, his voice carrying that quiet authority that never fails to soothe my inner omega. “We’ve doubled security at the entrance. No one gets in without being logged.”
I nod, sipping Theo’s coffee, letting its warmth chase away some of the chill of fear. “Let’s just get through today,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
By mid-morning, the farm is bustling with visitors. Families wander through the pumpkin patch, children squeal with delight at the petting zoo, and the scent of Theo’s apple cider donuts fills the air. I always stay close to at least one of my mates, Maple trotting faithfully at my heels like a small, horned bodyguard.
I’m helping a young girl select a pumpkin when I feel it—a prickle at the back of my neck, a sense of being watched. Istraighten, scanning the crowd, but see nothing unusual. Just families enjoying the autumn day.
“You okay?” Rowan asks, materializing at my side as if sensing my discomfort.
“Fine,” I say, though my voice sounds tight even to my ears. “Just jumpy.”
His hand finds the small of my back, a subtle gesture of possession and protection that steadies me. “Stay close,” he murmurs.
The day progresses without incident, and begin to think that perhaps my fears were unfounded. Maybe Marcus was just trying to scare me with his email, and maybe the “gift” was just an empty threat.
I’m photographing a display of gourds when Maple suddenly stiffens beside me, her rectangular pupils narrowing as she stares toward the parking lot. A low, warning bleat escapes her, unlike her usual friendly sounds, which I immediately sense.
