Page 52 of A Pack of Mistletoe
That’s all I need. I tear his shirt open, buttons scattering, his chest and abs bared for me like an offering.
Evander’s belt gleams silver. I hook it, drag him toward me. He laughs, reckless sparkle in his eyes. I rip off his shirt and his belt. He takes down his pants and boxers. Allowing me to see all of him.
“On your knees.” My voice is a lash. He obeys instantly, sliding down until his knees thud against the floor. He unzips me, my cock springing free thick and dripping, and opens his mouth wide. Perfect.
I stroke my length over his tongue, savoring the sight, but rut has no patience. I clamp his hair and fuck his throat raw, driving so deep I cut off his air. His eyelids flutter, his hands fall useless at his sides. He gives himself over, my perfect angel, until spit and pre-cum coat his chin and I yank free with a string of saliva still connecting us.
“Hands and knees.” My command is law. Evander scrambles into position, ass arched, hole begging. “Good boy.”
His cock twitches, leaking down his thigh, and his broken whine makes my own cock throb.
Logan watches, already undressed and tense, waiting for my word.
“Are you going to be a good boy too?” I rumble. Sometimes he fights me, makes me break him down—but not today. Today his cock is dripping desperate. A reaction to our mate’s scent. He bolts for the lube, returns fast.
He slicks himself, works his fingers into Evander, stretching him while Evander moans. Then Logan holds position, cock poised, but stills—because he knows better than to move without permission.
I slick my cock, kneel behind him, grip his ass apart, and drag my tip down his crack. His panting stutters. I line us up—and slam home in one brutal thrust. Logan chokes on a moan as he drives into Evander, who collapses forward, face pressed to the floor.
“Daddy, fuck, please—use us,” Evander sobs.
That rips away the last of my restraint. I pound into Logan, who grunts deliciously beneath me. Every thrust rams him deeper into Evander’s tight little hole, the rhythm brutal, perfect.
Evander fists his cock and spills across the hardwood with a strangled cry. Logan seizes next, body locked tight as his come spills inside Evander, leaking messily down his thighs.
That’s it. My rut detonates. I shove Logan down, stacking him balls-deep inside Evander, their bodies tangled and mine pounding into both. I roar, claiming them, spilling hot and endless until I’m emptied out, rut spent.
The second my pulse steadies, the door opens—and peppermint slams into me all over again.
Rose
When Wyatt and Kai find me, I’m working in the Café on my laptop, doing some marketing for a little bookstore in Traverse City. I like to work here when it’s not super busy and I just need to get out of the house—and after what happened this morning with Wyatt and Kai, I definitely needed a breather.
It had been perfect. Everything I’ve ever wanted with Kai. Everything I’d already fantasized about with Wyatt. Both of them together—perfection. Even though they seemed tentative with each other. I’d assumed they were a couple when we first met from the furtive glances they’d shared, but from our aftercare conversation—when we woke up and they decided to give me all the cuddles and a slow, sensuous rubdown. But they’re not. It’s new for them, which is kind of a relief. I’m not the only one out of my depth here.
My scent is the biggest shock. Clara’s not in today, which sucks because I was really hoping to talk to someone about all of this when I came here.
I’m mid-email when the door bursts open—Wyatt and Kai stepping through. When they spot me, the looks on their faces have me closing my laptop as my heart races.
“What’s wrong?” I ask automatically.
They glance at each other. “It’s Harlan—” Kai begins. My heart sinks to my stomach.
“Oh god. Did my father get to him? The Blackbeard Pack? Is he okay?” My words tumble out in a jumbled mess.
Wyatt pulls me toward him and begins purring. It eases my anxiety only slightly. “No, he’s fine, sweet girl. He’s just…” He trails off, looking around, but this is the off-season and the Café is empty.
“He’s gone into rut,” Kai interjects.
I gape. “Rut? Why?”
“Your scent, Sugarplum. He came home, scented you, and immediately flew into a rut. Logan and Evander are taking the edge off, but we came to warn you—and maybe take you away for a while.”
I take a small step back from Wyatt’s embrace, looking up at him. “I’m not leaving him if he needs me.”
Kai’s eyes are soft and pleading. “Rosie, he’s deep in rut. Not in his right mind at all. I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle him, and if he hurt you, it would kill him. He’s the dominant alpha. No one will be able to temper him.”
I level him with all the confidence and dominance I can muster, trying to channel Sunny. “If I am your omega, I can handle it.” The words come out with far more authority than I feel, but omegas are traditionally deferred to in interrelational matters of the pack.
