Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
SASHA
Target on a weekday evening is weirdly peaceful. The usual chaos of weekend crowds and screaming toddlers is absent, replaced by the hum of soft music playing over the speakers and the clatter of shopping carts rolling across the linoleum.
Flynn hums beside me, pushing a red cart that’s already loaded down with an absurd assortment of things for his nest. Fairy lights, a weighted blanket, a stupidly soft body pillow that he hugged to his chest for a solid minute before throwing it in. There’s also a variety of snacks—sweet, salty, and some weirdly specific trail mix he swears by. It’s domestic in a way I didn’t expect, and I kind of love being the one to do this with him.
“What else do you need?” I ask, nudging his hip as we pass the seasonal display of scented candles.
Flynn taps his chin, eyes scanning the shelves. “A scent burner, maybe? Oh! And lube. Definitely need lube.”
I snort. “That transition was seamless.”
He grins, unapologetic. “What can I say? I have priorities.”
We turn down the aisle, and Flynn grabs a bottle, tossing it in the cart without hesitation. Then he eyes the section of vibrators and cock rings, tilting his head as if deep in thought.
I arch a brow. “Shopping for something special?”
“Just considering my options.” He smirks and holds up a sleek black vibrator. “You think the alphas would like this one?”
I peer at it, then at him. “I think they’d like any of them if it involves you.”
Flynn laughs, tucking it into the cart before continuing down the aisle. I follow, trailing a hand along the shelves as he picks out a few more things—cooling gel, a bottle of massage oil, and what appears to be an adjustable cock ring that he inspects with far too much curiosity.
As we head toward another aisle, he suddenly turns to me, his expression showing he's far too pleased with himself. “By the way, your date with Stone is set.”
I blink. “Uh. What?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You two were dragging your feet, so I handled it. Tomorrow night. Reservations are at eight. No backing out.”
I scoff. “We bicker.”
“Yeah. And? I’ve seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you. It’s like watching two wolves circle each other, trying to figure out if they want to fight or fuck.”
I open my mouth, then snap it shut. Annoyingly, he’s not wrong.
Flynn smirks. “Come on, this was one of the rules we agreed on. I’m not gonna be the only one catching feelings. You and Stone said you’d try—so try.”
I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “I know. I just... it seems complicated. We both are?—”
“Hot? Infuriating? Makes your pulse do that weird fluttery thing?”
I scowl. “I was going to say stubborn.”
Flynn’s grin widens. “Yeah, and so are you.”
I huff, grabbing a pack of gum off the impulse shelf and tossing it into the cart. “Fine. I’m not against the idea, but he drives me insane.”
Flynn beams. “Perfect. Now let’s go pay for our haul of questionable purchases.”
As we load everything onto the belt, I catch myself wondering what a date with Stone would even look like. Probably intense. Definitely frustrating.
And maybe—just maybe—something I’ve been wanting more than I realized. Stone and I did say we were putting us on the backburner until Flynn was safe. Levi gave his blessing, so I guess our omega is right, but the alpha is more sassy than Levi has ever been.
I walk through the door, Flynn trailing behind me with a couple of shopping bags in his hands. I didn’t realize how much time we’d spent in the store until I see him carrying more bags than I expected. I roll my eyes, but it's not like I’m any better—at least half of this stuff was my idea.
As we step into the living room, I catch Levi and Stone lounging on the couch. Levi’s got a beer in hand, looking completely at ease, while Stone just gives us a quick glance before turning back to Levi.
“So,” Flynn starts, dropping the bags onto the table with a thud. “I’ve set Stone and Sasha up on a date for tomorrow night.”
Stone freezes. “What?”
Levi glances over at me with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused by the situation.
Flynn just shrugs, like it's no big deal. “I mean, you two need some time to figure things out. Get to know each other better, right?” He leans against the wall like he's totally proud of himself.
Stone turns to look at me, and I immediately raise my hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me. He sprung this on me in Target while looking at lube.”
Levi suddenly perks up. “Why do you need lube?”
Flynn’s eyes narrow. “For my heat.”
Levi looks directly at Flynn. “Flynn, babe. You’re an omega. If we’re doing our job right as your pack, you won’t need lube. Your slick will be plenty.”
Flynn turns beet red, his hands flying up defensively. “Oh, well, I always needed it before, and I didn’t always get it, so... shit.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I guess I made this awkward.”
Levi doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you didn’t,” he says. “We can use the lube on Sasha.”
I blink and shoot Levi a look. I stick my tongue out at him and glance at Flynn. “It’s fine, Flynn. We’ll use it.”
Flynn smirks at me, clearly relieved. “Yeah, okay. I knew you’d be cool about it.”
Stone tilts his head slightly, studying Flynn for a moment before saying. “Anyway, the real question is: what are we doing tomorrow night?”
“Dinner and drinks,” Flynn says like he’s not setting me up on a date that could make or break everything between Stone and me.
I feel my cheeks burn as I glance at Stone. He nods once, slowly, before turning back to the TV. It’s not much, but it feels like an agreement. His attention drifts back to Levi and the half-empty beer bottle in his hand, like he’s been expecting this.
I give him a look. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter under my breath, but Flynn just laughs.
“Well,” Flynn says. “Come on, Sasha. We’ve got to put all this stuff away.” He winks and nudges me toward the hallway.
I try to ignore the flutter in my stomach and grab a few of the shopping bags, turning to head for the hallway.
* * *
Stone’s truck rumbles beneath me as he drives, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gearshift. His fingers tap against the leather, a slow, restless rhythm that matches the tension in the cab.
We’ve been quiet most of the drive. Not awkward, just quiet.
I steal a glance at him, at the way the dim street lights cast sharp shadows across his face. Strong jaw, full lips pressed together like he’s holding something back.
I clear my throat. “You could at least pretend to be excited.”
Stone exhales a short laugh, eyes still fixed on the road. “You think I’m not?”
I narrow my eyes. “Kinda feels like you got dragged into this.”
His fingers tighten on the wheel. “I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t want to.”
My pulse stutters. I want to push him, to make him say it plain, but I know how Stone is—he doesn’t hand out his feelings on a silver platter. You have to dig for them.
So instead, I smirk. “Hope you know I’m making you buy my drinks all night.”
His mouth twitches. “I figured.”
That makes me grin, and just like that, the mood lightens.
By the time we pull up to the bar, it feels like we’ve been circling each other long enough.
It’s time to do something about it.
Stone opens the door for me, which, rude, because now I have to think about how nice that is.
I step inside, and the scent of whiskey, wood, and something fried fills the air. The place is half full—music playing low, just enough noise to keep things interesting without being too loud.
Stone leads the way to the bar, moving through the space like he owns it, and I hate how hot that is.
He settles onto a stool, and I take the one beside him, shrugging out of my jacket, revealing my leather vest. His gaze snags on the movement, eyes roaming my tits—out and proud—before dragging back up to my face.
I raise a brow. “Like what you see?”
His lips curl at the edges. “You fishing for compliments?”
I prop my chin on my hand. “Maybe.”
He chuckles, shaking his head, and fuck, I love that sound.
We order drinks, and I feel his gaze on me the whole time. Then, after a beat, he finally speaks. “So... is this the part where we pretend we haven’t already made up our minds?”
I blink, caught off guard by the directness—but only for a second. “You mean about the bond?”
Stone swirls his whiskey, watching the liquid move before looking at me again. “Flynn set this up to nudge us closer, but I think we both knew where we were heading before that.”
I sip my drink, the corner of my mouth curving. “So you’re admitting it now.”
His lips part, a faint smirk tugging at them. “Didn’t I already?”
I lean in slightly, voice low and teasing. “You always play it this cool?”
Stone exhales through his nose, that familiar mix of amusement and frustration in his gaze. “Only when the trouble’s worth it.”
I grin. “And I’m trouble?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He takes a slow sip, eyes dark under the low bar lights. “You’re the definition of it.”
God help me, I like the way he says that.
The rest of the night is tense in the best way. We push each other, tease, flirt in a way that borders on fighting. Stone has this annoying way of getting under my skin, of making me react before I realize what I’m doing. And when I snap back? He eats it up.
Like he likes seeing me riled up.
Like he wants to tame it—or fucking unleash it.
And then?—
Then I kiss him.
Or maybe he kisses me. I don’t know who moves first, but one second we’re arguing, and the next? His hand is gripping my jaw, his mouth hot and rough against mine.
It’s not soft. It’s messy, desperate, like we’ve both been holding back for too long.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against mine. His thumb drags along my jaw, slow, deliberate. “You’re sexy as hell, Sasha,” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel. “But it’s more than that. You’re strong. Fearless. Open.” A smirk tugs at his lips. “Slightly crazy, and we can’t leave out the murdery part.”
I huff out a laugh, my chest rising against his.
His eyes flick over my face, something unreadable in them before he says, softer this time, “I’ve been drawn to you since we met in that cannibal’s house.”
Something tightens in my chest, something warm and dangerous.
Because I believe him.
Because I feel it too.
* * *
Stone barely has the truck in park before we’re moving.
We slam the doors, stepping onto the front porch, and then?—
Then he’s on me.
Stone surges forward, crowding into my space, and suddenly his lips are on mine, hot and rough and desperate. I gasp, and he takes advantage, licking into my mouth, swallowing any protest I might have had. His hands are firm where they grip my waist, pulling me in like he needs me to breathe.
The front door is right there. We should go inside. But neither of us makes a move.
I fist my hands in his shirt, tugging, dragging him closer. He growls against my lips, a deep, primal sound that sends a shiver down my spine. He feels close to a rut, but not quite, I trust him to stay in control.
Fuck, I want this.
Want him.
The night air bites at my skin, but Stone is fire against me, burning hot and unapologetic. His hands slide down to my ass, gripping, lifting me just enough that I have to grab his shoulders to stay upright.
Somewhere in the haze, I register that we’re still outside—on the fucking front step, like we’re desperate teenagers.
I pull back just enough to catch my breath, my lips brushing his as I murmur, “You planning on fucking me right here?”
Stone smirks, eyes dark and blown. “Wouldn’t put it past me.”
That shouldn’t turn me on.
But it does. A lot.
Still, I reach behind me, fumbling for the doorknob, twisting until the door finally swings open. We stumble inside, still locked together, and Stone barely gets it kicked shut before he’s backing me into it, caging me in.
"You gonna let me in, Little Minx?” he murmurs against my lips.
I arch a brow, breathless. “You’re already inside.”
His smirk is wicked. "Not what I meant."
Before I can come up with a snarky reply, he’s kissing me again, deep and claiming and fucking consuming. My vest hits the floor. His shirt follows. Hands roam, mouths devour, and then?—
He drops to his knees.
The sight of Stone kneeling before me sends a jolt of arousal straight to my core. His hands skim up my thighs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of my skirt, gripping possessively as he spreads me open with slow, deliberate intent.
And then—he stills.
His gaze lifts, meeting mine, dark with realization. A low, appreciative groan rumbles from his throat as his fingers skate higher, tracing the bare skin where my panties should be.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his grip tightening. “You’ve been walking around like this all night?”
A satisfied smirk tugs at my lips. “Maybe.”
He chuckles, but it’s rough, strained, filled with something dangerously close to worship. “You’re going to kill me.”
And then his mouth is on me.
"This is familiar," I murmur, threading my fingers through his hair. "You really love going down on your lovers, huh?"
Stone grins. "Shut up and let me make you feel good."
I should tease him back. Give him shit. But then his mouth is on me, and all coherent thoughts scatter. His tongue flicks teasingly at my core, exploring every curve and contour.
I moan, head tipping back as he sucks my clit into his mouth.
“Shhh. Don’t want anyone to know I’m eating your cunt in the living room, do we?”
"Don’t be quiet on our account," Levi’s voice startles me.
Oh, fuck me.
My eyes snap open, and I twist my head toward the hallway. Sure enough, Levi and Flynn are sprawled on the couch, completely unbothered, watching fucking Law it’s about trust and connection—about belonging to him.
With a deep growl, he pushes me back onto the bed. Before I can fully register the movement, he’s over me—predatory—his body radiating heat.
Stone moves slowly, savoring the moment, his gaze devouring me and his lips following suit. He drags them along the curve of my neck, his breath hot and teasing as he lingers, pressing open-mouthed kisses that make me shudder. His teeth graze my collarbone, a sharp nip that sends a delicious jolt through my body, and I arch instinctively, silently begging for more.
His hands are restless, possessive as they explore my body. Fingers trace the swell of my breasts, skimming over lace, teasing the sensitive skin beneath with deliberate strokes that send sparks shooting through my veins.
“Off,” he commands softly but firmly, his voice thick with desire.
I reach behind me, fumbling slightly as I unclasp my bra, my pulse hammering against my ribs. Before I can fully remove it, he takes over, sliding the straps down my arms with a slow, torturous precision, his fingertips grazing my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
The hunger in his eyes as he drinks me in, bare before him, steals the air from my lungs. He leans in, his mouth following the path his hands just took, lips trailing fire over my shoulders, down to the sensitive valley between my breasts.
“You’re stunning,” he murmurs.
His mouth claims one breast, lips wrapping around the sensitive peak as his tongue flicks, licks, and sucks. A moan escapes me, my back arching into him as his other hand teases and kneads the neglected one, fingers rolling and pinching until sparks of pleasure shoot straight to my core.
“Stone,” I gasp.
He grins against my skin before he begins his descent, lips trailing down the curve of my ribs, the soft plane of my stomach. His hands find the hem of my skirt, pulling it away from my body, then tugging it down and off with maddening care. He takes his time, dragging his tongue over my navel, nipping at the sensitive flesh just below, each touch unraveling me.
By the time he settles between my legs, I’m already shifting, thighs parting wider, my body surrendering to him completely, aching for the torment he’s about to deliver.
“God,” he breathes out.
I gasp, my breath catching in my throat, as he finally lowers his head, burying his face between my legs with a possessive urgency that makes my pulse race. A moan slips from my lips, helpless and raw, as his mouth makes contact—fingers splayed wide, his tongue flicking out to tease me, tracing delicate patterns that send waves of pleasure crashing over me.
With expert precision, his tongue swirls around the most sensitive spots, teasing, tasting, coaxing sounds of pure delight from deep within me. Each stroke, each flick, builds and builds until I’m writhing beneath him, my body unable to resist the sweet torment. He knows exactly where to touch, how to make me lose all sense of time, and I can’t help but surrender.
The tension coils tighter, an unbearable heat pooling low in my belly, spreading like wildfire through my veins. My breaths come faster, my thighs trembling against his hold as he sucks my clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue in a way that has me gasping his name.
“Oh—fuck, Stone?—”
The pressure snaps. A strangled cry spills from my lips as I come undone beneath his mouth. He groans against me, lapping up every shudder, every tremor, dragging out every last drop of pleasure until I collapse, breathless and boneless, utterly ruined in the best possible way.
I'm still reeling from the aftershocks when he climbs back up my body, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Stone's breath is hot against my ear as he whispers, “You taste so fucking good.”
I reach between us, fingers brushing over the bulge straining against his jeans. His breath hitches, a low growl escaping his throat as I stroke him through the fabric.
With a swift, fluid motion, he stands, shoving his jeans down his hips, kicking them off without hesitation. My breath catches in my throat as he stands before me in all his glorious intensity—broad, powerful, every inch of him sculpted to perfection. My gaze drops lower, my mouth going dry at the sight of him—thick, hard, and already glistening with anticipation.
His gaze locks onto mine, dark and smoldering as he climbs back onto the bed, his voice rough with restraint. “You ready for this?”
It’s not just a question—it’s a promise. A warning. An unspoken vow that once he starts, he won’t stop.
I nod, my breath catching in my throat. “Always.”
He grips my thighs, spreading them wider with a possessive force, my pulse pounding in my ears as he positions himself at my entrance.
He teases me first, dragging the thick, swollen head of his cock through my wet folds, letting it brush against my aching clit just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through me. I gasp, my fingers tightening in the sheets, desperate for more, but he takes his time, reveling in the way I squirm beneath him.
“Look at me,” he commands. I obey, meeting his gaze. And then, in one powerful thrust, he pushes inside me, stretching me, filling me completely.
A strangled cry escapes my lips as my back arches, the sudden fullness stealing the breath from my lungs.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans. One hand digs into my thigh, the other planted firm beside my head to keep from crushing me. He stills, just for a second. Long enough to breathe. Long enough to drive me crazy. I rake my nails down his back, silently begging for more.
“Move,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need.
And then he does.
His first thrust is slow, deliberate, dragging every inch of himself against my sensitive walls. But the slow pace doesn’t last. The moment he hears my sharp intake of breath, feels the way I grip him from the inside, his restraint snaps.
He sets a ruthless rhythm, each deep, punishing stroke driving me higher, making me cry out in pleasure. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, mingling with our ragged breaths, our desperate moans. It’s raw and consuming.
He drops down onto one elbow, lips crashing onto mine. The kiss is rough, messy, as his hips snap against mine, each thrust knocking the breath from my lungs. Our tongues tangle, tasting, devouring, as he thrusts harder, deeper, claiming me in every way possible. Save for filling me with his knot.
“Take it,” he growls against my mouth, his voice thick with possession. “Take all of me.”
I’m helpless to do anything else. The coil inside me tightens, winding impossibly tight with every thrust, my body trembling on the edge of oblivion. My nails dig into his back as I pant his name, each syllable dripping with desperation.
“Stone—please,” I plead, my body tensing, ready to shatter.
His thrusts get faster, messier—like he’s losing control right along with me. Everything inside me builds up fast, like pressure ready to blow. And then it does. I cry out, the sound rough and broken, as the pleasure hits me all at once—sharp, overwhelming, and totally unstoppable. My body clenches around him, trembling as I fall apart. My walls clench down, squeezing him in a vise, and the guttural groan that tears from his chest is pure, unfiltered need.
“Fuck—” Stone grits out, his fingers digging into my hips as he pounds into me, chasing his own release. He shudders, muscles locking tight, and with a rough roar, he lets go, spilling himself inside me, filling me with warmth.
His body trembles as he collapses beside me, his skin slick with sweat. He doesn’t let me go—his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me close until I’m pressed against the solid heat of him. He presses a lingering kiss to my temple, his breath still ragged.
“I’m going to mark you during our omega’s heat,” he murmurs, his voice husky, possessive.
A shiver runs down my spine at the promise in his words. “Okay,” I whisper back, my fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest.
His hold tightens just a fraction. “I’d do it now,” he admits, “but he’s gonna wanna see it, to be there—even if he’s incoherent.”
A soft laugh escapes me. “He will,” I agree, picturing it all too easily. “And it’s fine. You don’t have to explain it to me.”
His hold tightens just a fraction. “I didn’t use a condom,” he murmurs.
A lazy smile tugs at my lips. “It’s okay. I’m covered.”
Stone growls. “Not that I wouldn’t love to see you carrying one of our babies.”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see them. “Not anytime soon. I have more stabbing to do first.”
He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Fine.”
Stone exhales, brushing a hand over my stomach before reluctantly pulling away. He rolls out of bed and disappears into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm rag. With gentle care, he cleans me up, his touch tender, before tossing the rag aside and slipping back into bed.
This time, he doesn’t just pull me close—he tucks me against him, legs tangling with mine, his body a protective cocoon of warmth.
“You sleep here tonight,” he murmurs, leaving no room for argument.
“Okay,” I breathe, my eyelids growing heavy. The last thing I feel is the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart against my back, before sleep claims me completely.