Page 24 of Stuck with my Pack
My hands slide under her shirt, finding the soft curve of her waist, her skin warm and smooth under my fingertips. She shudders at the touch, her nails digging into my shoulders as my thumbs brush the underside of her breasts.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper against her skin, my voice rough with restraint. Her Omega whimpers and writhes under the praise. “You’re so good for your Alpha.”
Her hips buck against me, her slick soaking through to my jeans as I press her harder against the wall. My hand dips lower, under the waistband of her pants, finding her heat.
She’s so wet, her slick coating my fingers as I slide them through her folds, teasing her entrance. My thumb teases her clit.
“Ethan,” she moans, her head falling back against the wall, her body arching into my touch. Her hands grip my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin as I push a finger inside her, her walls clenching around me.
“You feel so good,” I rasp, adding another finger, the tight heat of her driving me to the edge.
She’s gasping now, her breaths coming in shallow pants, her hips moving against my hand, chasing her release. Her Omega is begging for more, and my Alpha is desperate to give it to her.
“Look at me,” I demand, my voice thick with need. Her eyes flutter open, her pupils blown wide, her lips parted in a silent plea.
“You want this,” I whisper, my thumb brushing over her clit as I curl my fingers inside her, hitting the spot that makes her cry out. “Say it.”
“Yes,” she gasps, her voice trembling. “I want this. I want you.”
Her words snap the last thread of my control. I bury my face in her neck, my hand working her harder, faster, as her cries grow louder, her body shaking in my arms.
She comes with a broken moan, her walls fluttering around my fingers, her nails raking down my back as she falls apart. Her scent is overwhelming, sweet and sharp and completely hers, and it’s all I can do not to lose myself in her right here.
I hold her tightly, my forehead resting against hers as she catches her breath, her body still trembling against mine. Her scent is everywhere, wrapping around me, marking me as much as I want to mark her.
“Ethan,” she whispers, her voice soft, unsure.
Her Omega is still calling to me, her body pliant and willing in my arms, and every instinct in me is screaming to take her, to claim her, to make her mine.
But the weight of reality crashes down like a cold wave, and I pull back, my breathing ragged, my body still aching with need.
“I’m sorry,” I say, the words catching in my throat as I step away, leaving her leaning against the barn wall, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes wide with confusion and longing.
Her scent clings to me as I turn and walk away, every step a battle against the primal need to turn back, to take her, to make her mine in every way. But I don’t. I can’t.
Not yet.
11
SOPHIE
Iwake up in the morning to sunlight streaming through the curtains. It’s the kind of soft, golden light that usually leaves me lost in the beauty of this place. But today? Today, I feel wretched.
Sleep had been a fleeting thing—if it came at all. Every time I drifted off, flashes of Ethan’s touch burned in my mind, uninvited but relentless. The way his fingers brushed over my skin, firm yet reverent, and the way his voice had gone all rough and low…I shiver at the memory, though it only stirs the restless, unfamiliar sensation pooling in my belly.
I push Ethan’s image from my mind, only to be overwhelmed by the memory of Tyler’s mouth at my pulse, the way he scent-marked me so possessively. The thought ignites me all over again, heat pooling low and unrelenting.
I’ve never been this drawn to Alphas before—never felt so utterly consumed that reason and normal social boundaries vanish like smoke.
I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to think of anything other than Alphas, or the way my body reacts to them, or the primal need clawing at me. I almost succeed—almost—but then Brodie’s image invades my thoughts.
The way he looked at me, like I was something he wanted to devour, to claim. So much heat and raw possession had burned in his amber eyes. It was as if his gaze alone could unravel me completely. My skin tingles just thinking about it, and I shiver, caught between wanting to run and wanting to stay wrapped in their pull forever.
Panting, I throw the covers off, groaning in frustration. My skin feels wrong—overheated, overly sensitive. The sheets feel like sandpaper against me, scratching and abrasive, no matter how much I toss and turn.
There’s a persistent, needy ache thrumming through me, low in my abdomen, and I can’t shake it. My core feels empty, and the sharp pangs of longing make my thighs clench instinctively.
I’ve never been in heat before—never even come close. Could I be in heat now? I always thought I wasn’t much of an Omega. Sure, I had the biology for it, but I never felt the overwhelming surges of emotion or physical need that others talked about.
