Page 88 of Pack Owned
I jerk my hand up and down his cock, tightening my grip, trying to focus on what the hell I’m doing and not that he’s driving me absolutely crazy with his hands, his mouth… Oh God!
“Don’t worry, I have plenty of ways to make you come,” Liam smirks, the glint in his eyes sparking a new round of butterflies in my stomach.
“Please,” I gasp out, the word barely a whisper but loaded with all the need that’s thrumming through me, electric and demanding.
His fingers tease me, bringing me closer to the brink again. The way he touches me, it’s as if he knows every secret part of me, every hidden desire I’ve never dared to acknowledge. His hand is steady, confident, while mine shakes as it explores him, learning the weight and heat of him in my palm.
The room fades away until there’s nothing but Liam, his touch, his scent—musk and desire—and the mounting pressure inside me, begging for release. My body tenses, ready to tip over the edge.
The world narrows down to the sound of our breaths mingling, the slick slide of skin against skin, the pulse-pounding rush that drowns out everything else.
“Kayla,” he rasps.
Him saying my name like that shatters through me just as I feel him tense. His grip tightens on me, possessive, as if he could hold us suspended in this moment forever. Then he shudders, a raw groan tearing from his throat as he finds his release.
He doesn’t let go, doesn’t retreat into post-orgasmic haze. He’s still here with me, lips tracing the line of my jaw, hands charting paths of fire across my flesh. His mouth finds mineagain, and I’m swept away by the ferocity of his kiss, by how much I want this—want him—and how it feels as if I’m diving headfirst into something terrifying and inevitable.
The edge is right there, so close, I’m teetering on it, and Liam’s fingers are ruthless, coaxing me over. They dance over my skin, igniting every nerve ending until I’m nothing but a tangle of need and sensation. Every touch is a promise, every kiss a vow that he won’t let me fall alone.
“Please,” escapes me, half-moan, half-whisper.
“That’s the fire I want to see, little Omega. Don’t you dare go out on me yet.” His voice is a low rumble against my ear, sending tremors through me.
I can’t think, can’t breathe. I can only feel as he draws me inexorably closer to the brink. My body coils tight, pleasure spiraling out of control, and when the climax hits, it’s all-encompassing, ripping a scream from my throat.
“Liam!”
It’s a storm, a tidal wave, crashing over me, through me, and I cling to him, nails digging into his back as waves of ecstasy pull me under. I’m drowning, gasping, lost in the sensations that ravage my senses, and I don’t ever want it to stop.
Then, I shatter, waves of pleasure crashing over me, my cries mingling with Liam’s as we cling to each other.
CHAPTER 28
DANE
The chill of the stainless steel fridge seeps across my fingers as I swing it open. Morning light filters through the windows, casting long shadows over the near-empty shelves. My stomach clenches—not from hunger, but from the thought of leaving Kayla even for an hour.
“Damn,” I mutter under my breath. The last of the eggs, a solitary carton of milk teetering on sour, and half a loaf of bread that’s more suitable as a doorstop than breakfast. We’re running low. And it’s my job to fix that.
“Ryker,” I call out, glancing over at him where he leans against the doorframe, his eyes shadowed. “Heading out after we eat. It’s looking pretty barren here.”
He nods once, sharp, a silent understanding passing between us. The tension coils tighter in my gut; I don’t want to leave the sanctuary we’ve built here, not with Kayla so new to our world, her trust so recent and raw. But necessity bites harder than desire.
I’m turning away when she walks in with her dark blonde hair in a ponytail. The aroma of her sex wraps around me, a heady perfume that triggers every primal instinct I’ve beentrained to suppress. I ball my fists, muscles tensing, fighting the urge to pull her close, claim her lips with mine. But she’s in charge and I’m following her lead until she’s so comfortable with me and sex that I don’t have to worry about her.
“Morning,” she greets.
“Morning.” My reply is gruff, curt, as I grapple with control and not scope her into my arms and carry her to my bed.
I grab my keys and they jangle.
“Can I come with you?” The hope in her voice twists my heart.
“Better not.” My words are sharper than I intend. Safety first. Always. But that doesn’t stop the twinge of guilt when I see her disappointment.
A pout pulls at her full lips, and it takes all my strength not to cave right then and there.
“Then can you get something for me?” Her pout morphs into a hopeful smile, and damn if it doesn’t skip my heart.
