Page 54 of A Pack of Mistletoe
With great care, I strip off my clothes. His gaze is a physical touch. When he turns fully, I see him—oh holy night, his cock is long, hard, and thick. His body is all stacked muscle, corded arms, carved abs, raw power. He never lets go of himself, stroking as he watches me. His other hand grips the tile wall with such force I’m surprised it doesn’t crack.
Once I’m fully naked, I walk toward him slowly. He won’t hurt me. He’s always been my protector. From the very beginning.
As I step into the spray, the cold water slices through my overheated skin and I yelp. He immediately reaches for the knob, twisting it until the temperature rises to a bearable warmth.
“I’ve seen what you can do when you’re unrestrained with people you’re comfortable with. I want that,” I tell him, daring. “I don’t want gentle, Harlan, I—”
A squeal rips from me as he spins me around, pressing my front to the tile and his chest to my back. His cock drags against my outer lips, sliding along my clit. I mewl, filthy and desperate.
“You want to give me that kind of trust? Then give it to me now. You’re the girl in the garden, aren’t you?” His voice is a rough-edged growl, his breath hot against the shell of my ear. He's clearly holding the rut at bay since he can talk but barely.
My heart stutters. I knew he might remember, but I hadn’t known how to broach it—the fact that we’d met before, years ago.
“I—” I stutter, hesitating.
The smack to my ass comes before the sting. Perfume bursts into the steam.
“Quickly, Rose,” he orders, eyes dark, rimmed in brown just barely holding back the rut.
“Yes. I’m the girl from the garden,” I admit.
I’m eighteen again. Too young to designate yet. My father was hosting a soirée to gloat over a financial victory against Harlan and his father, only to be outmaneuvered instead by Harlan himself. My mother found me alone in the garden and took her stress out on me—my weight, my hair, my dress—until Harlan showed up and barked at her to leave. She fled, and he turned to me. He wiped my tears, told me more of me only added to my beauty. That I was resilient. Then he took my waist and let me dance with him to the muffled music until I could breathe again.
Nearly six years later, the memory still burns inside me. His kindness had been a lifeline.
“I’m surprised you remember that,” I whisper.
He tilts my chin with his knuckles. “I remembered the moment I saw you. I wanted you to come to me. If you want to give me the kind of trust you’re asking for now, then give me everything. Trust that I can carry it all. I knew then you were special. I knew then you should be mine—scent or no scent. Beta, omega, alpha—it never mattered.”
The tears won’t stop. “Why didn’t you take me then?”
His eyes close, and when they open, they’re gutted. “I had just humiliated your father. I wasn’t invincible. I didn’t think I could protect you.”
His weight lifts from my back and rejection claws through me—until he turns me to face him, gripping my chin firmly, forcing me to meet his eyes. He’s heat and intensity and dominance, wrapped in muscle.
“You want this, omega? I’m on the edge of rut, and I’ve never been called gentle.”
Every nerve in my body sparks. Slick runs down my thighs, mixing with the shower spray.
“You read my list,” I tease, thinking of the heat boundaries I’d laid out.
“I need a yes or a no.”
“Yes, please, alpha,” I whimper, all teasing gone.
“This bathroom is far too small to do the things I’ve been dreaming of since that garden.” His words nearly unravel me. “But it’s still enough space to wreck you, to make you scream my name until the tiles shake.”
I whimper again, desperate.
“If you want to stop—”
“Sparkles. I’ll say sparkles. Evander told me.”
He chuckles, deep and dark. “Of course he did. He’s such a good boy.”
“Please, alpha. Please fuck me.”
“I decide what you’ve earned, Starlight. If you’re a very good girl, I’ll let you take my cock until you forget your name.” I nod frantically. “Let’s see if you can obey.”
