Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-three
Parker
Cross isn't waiting in front of the cabin when I carry Genie into the small clearing.
I really wanted him to be there for this, but her distress and pain has grown exponentially with every step I took to get us here.
She needs tending now and I'm not going to make her wait for him.
He'll just have to forgive me when he gets here.
Unless he'd rather fight me.
Genie's panting now, with sweat beading on her skin. “We're here now, baby,” I tell her, reaching to open the front door. “Cross will be here soon. We'll take care of you.”
She shakes her head tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. “It hurts too much, Parker. I can't... I can't...”
“Shhh.” I kick the door closed behind me. “I'm here. It's okay. Can you stand up? We did something for you. I hope you like it.”
Her knees almost buckle when I put her down, but my arm is still around her waist so she doesn't fall.
I lead her into the master bedroom where we made her nest. The light streaming in through the curtained window isn't overwhelming.
It might be too bright in the long run, but for now it's the perfect amount to allow her to see what we've done. “Open your eyes, Genie. Look.”
Her breath shakes as her eyes slowly open into narrow slits to protect them from the bright light she expects, but they fly wide when she realizes what she's looking at.
When Cross and I started this nest, we didn't know exactly what we were doing.
We knew what nests were supposed to look like in a generalized way, but with it being our first time building one, we didn't really know where to start.
He had a box of blankets and I had a big sack of pillows and cushions, but we weren't sure what exactly to do with them.
Cross spread out one blanket on the floor in the corner of the room opposite the huge rustic bed.
Then another. And another. I put down three pillows, one for each of us.
Then he put another blanket that I picked back up to roll and tuck around the pillows.
Then another blanket. A cushion. Then we sort of lost ourselves in it for a little while.
We came back the next day with different things.
Some scented wax beads. Some gauzy fabric to drape across something.
The sheets from her bed from the night before.
Every piece of clothing Drew had worn over the past couple of days.
One thing after another, day after day, until we stood there in the middle of it with our hands on our hips looking at the perfection we had created for her.
It was instinctual and primal and what we were made for, and the look on her face, the small sound escaping her lips right now is the reason.
I hate that Cross is missing this, but her need comes before his or mine or anyone's.
That realization, the one that catapults her above every other person on the planet, including Cross, is what ruins me and somehow reshapes me into something new; some otherworldly being capable of moving mountains and anything else standing in her way.
Is this is how it feels for Cross? Is this is what he fought so hard against for so long. .. for me?
Genie steps away from me and moves into the nest. She touches.
She breathes in the scent. She takes it all in, layer by layer, until she's standing on the great pile of blankets and cushions arranged in the center, then she turns back to look at me.
“You did this,” she whispers. “For me. You and Drew made a nest. For me.”
“For you,” I tell her, staying near the door. We made this for her, for us, but it isn't ours yet. Not until she invites us in.
Her wolf flashes in her eyes as she smiles at me. “It's perfect.”
The words feel like a physical stroke to my ego. Of course it's perfect. We made sure it would be. She deserves nothing less.
She reaches out a hand, beckoning me to her, and another feeling slams into me.
A heady combination of righteous pride and staggering possession makes me feel like I float to her rather than walk on my own feet.
The feeling swells violently when her smile turns feral and she shoves me down onto the soft floor of her nest. My Luna. She needs me.
I don't stop her when she tears the shirt from my body.
She leans over me, dragging her nose from my stomach, across my chest, and to the hollow just above my collar bone.
She sighs in contentment as her fingers move down to rip at my belt buckle.
I lift my hips after she gets the belt undone to make it easier for her to get at what she needs and she gives me another of those wild grins when my cock springs up and slaps against my abdomen.
“Mine,” she mutters and licks me from balls to tip.
My hips jerk in response. Then she grasps the base and licks across my already weeping head.
She hums her appreciation and strokes upward, causing more precum to leak from me.
She licks that up, too, before closing her lips around me.
My head drops back as a deep groan pours from me.
I've never been so hard. My dick has never weeped.
So many things are changing so fast and I don't have time to sink into all of them because her tongue abruptly stops lapping at me and her face falls into a grimace.
She crumbles in on herself, falling onto her side, panting and clutching her stomach as she whines and the scent of her slick overwhelms every other scent in the room.
Instinct roars inside my head, guiding my body as I rise up onto my knees and turn her onto her back, prying her thighs apart and spreading her open.
She's so fucking wet. Her thighs are shining with slick.
My hands move on their own, without thought or reason, the need to ease her discomfort is a compulsion more than a decision.
One hand presses down above her mound and I sink two fingers inside her as deeply as I can, circling her distended clit with the pad of my thumb.
She whimpers as a gush of slick soaks my hand. “More,” she gasps. “I need more.”
I push another finger in beside the others, fucking her with them, and bend to replace my thumb on her clit with my mouth. Her fingers grip my hair, yanking me both closer and away.
“More,” she hisses. “It hurts. I need more.”
I shove my fingers inside her roughly, drawing a pleasured gasp, but I know it's not going to be enough.
I imagined this moment differently. I thought there would be a slower build up, that there would be time to touch her and enjoy her, but her heat is taking her violently so I must take her just as violently.
One hand goes to the back of her thigh, holding it in place while I move closer.
When I wrap my other hand around my cock, I feel it thicker than it's ever been before and I look down.
There it is. Just like he said it would be.
It isn't fully formed yet, but the knot that has apparently been there this whole time, dormant and waiting, is gradually swelling.
The skin around it is as sensitive as the skin covering the head of my dick and I suck in a breath when I give it a little squeeze, just to see. This is insane.
“Fuck me, Parker,” Genie hisses, unaware of the change. “Please.”
She'll find out soon enough.
With one last thought for Cross's disappointment, I push inside her, snarling at the slick stretch around my head.
“Yes,” she groans. “More.”
She's so hot inside. So wet. Her lips are reddened and puffy, engorged and so sensitive.
Her fingers dig into the blankets underneath her, her nails scrabbling against the floor through the fabric.
She doesn't need easy. She doesn't need slow or sweet, she needs everything I have and she needs it now.
My wolf is standing at attention inside me, urging me on. Take her, he says. Give her what she needs. End her suffering before it starts.
My hips snap, sinking most of my length inside her, and her back arches up off of the floor as she cries out, her hands going to her breasts to cup them, her fingers pressing into the soft flesh.
I pull back, determined to push inside to the hilt with my next thrust, but she shakes her head, snarling.
“Not like this,” she growls and uses her feet to force me away from her.
Rejection stings for half a second until I realize what she's doing.
Cross might actually be angry about this when I tell him about it.
She turns, facing away from me, and lowers her shoulders to the ground, leaving her ass high in the air, her knees spread wide and inviting as she presents herself to me.
“Genie,” I whisper, but my wolf pushes forward, shoving past all of my worry and shocked wonder.
“Please,” she whimpers, and that's all my wolf can tolerate.
I watch my fingernails gradually curve into claws that dig into her soft hips and then I'm sinking inside her, losing myself to the feel of her drenched, inviting warmth.
“Yessss,” she hisses, pressing her forehead against the blankets underneath us. “Don't stop. I need more, Alpha. Give it to me.”
Fire races a sizzling path throughout my body and mind.
Alpha. She called me Alpha. This is dangerous.
I cannot be her alpha. Cross is our alpha.
I can't let this go on. Except I can't bring myself to stop.
I can't pull away from her. And apparently I am an alpha.
A late blooming one, but still. And she is, in fact, my Luna.
My responsibility.
My duty.
Our honor, my wolf adds.
“Please,” she whines, pushing against me, trying to impale herself on my pulsing length.
Looking down, I can see my knot growing thicker. I can feel it. It is utterly surreal. And sensitive. Goddess, fuck, it's so sensitive. Every single time she brushes against it or it nudges against her, it almost takes my breath.
“Give it to me now,” she growls. “I want to feel it swell inside me.” Her words die on a needy groan that ends in a whine. “Please,” she pants. “I need it. I need you.”
Do it, my wolf snarls, shoving into the forefront of our shared consciousness.
I won't give him full control of this. He has to share this moment, even if I'm looking through his eyes now.
My hands grip her harshly, claws pressing dangerously into her skin as I ready myself to force the knot that already seems too thick to fit inside her.
My spine tenses, bowed and ready to give her the final thrust she needs, and I freeze as the door swings open and bangs against the wall.
Cross explodes into the room, nostrils flared, pupils dilated. His lip lifts into a snarl, but I can't stop now. I don't even want to. My wolf wouldn't allow it, anyway.
I meet Cross's heated gaze without blinking, holding his eyes captive as I slam my cock into his mate. An involuntary grunt escapes my lips when my knot slides past her stretched entrance, and I groan when it notches into place.