Chapter thirty-five #2
The nest shakes with it. Miles’s groans echo. My whole body floats, caught in their afterglow. Garrett looks so damn proud when he finally lets go.
Garrett pulls off, licking his lips, flushed and buzzing with pleasure. He glances up at Miles, then me, and gives me the cockiest wink I’ve ever seen.
For a second, nobody moves. Miles is dazed, chest heaving, totally spent. Garrett’s still there, grinning between his knees. My hands are braced on Miles’s chest, feeling his heart pounding, wild under my palms.
After that, Miles goes limp, boneless.
That’s when I notice Gabriel and Cyrus.
They’re standing in the doorway, coffee mugs in hand. Not moving, barely breathing.
Miles spots them and does that evil grin. He’s plotting, and nobody else gets a say. He probably knew they were there the whole time.
“Think they’re hot and bothered?” he asks, low and sly.
My face bursts into flames.
“I think you need some relief too.” His hand slides into my sleep pants—I don’t even remember putting them on; he must have dressed me after the car ride last night. His fingers find me, and his grin goes wicked.
“She’s drenched,” he announces, like he’s telling them the weather. “From watching Garrett suck my cock.”
“Miles!” I gasp, mortified.
“Be still,” he says, and I freeze.
He gets on his knees and tugs my pants and underwear off. I try to stop him, grab for the waistband, but he smacks my hands away. “I said hold still.” I stop fighting.
Now I’m exposed. Wet and aching, wide open in front of everyone, and I can see Garrett’s nostrils flare, his whole body tense with need.
Miles starts slow, circling my clit, then faster, reading every twitch and breath. I buck against his hand, and the sound that slips out of me is louder than I meant it to be.
His eyes flick from me to the alphas in the doorway. Then he slides two fingers inside, and I cry out, arching off the nest.
“She likes that,” Miles says, totally casual. “Not as much as she likes my cock. But it’ll do.”
He goes faster, working me with ruthless skill. The orgasm is right there, insistent and demanding, my body so wound up from everything that’s happened. It’s going to be embarrassingly fast.
He glances at Garrett. Then at me. Then back.
“You like watching this, Alpha?”
Garrett nods, speechless.
“You want to feel her moan when she comes for me?”
Garrett nods again, eager.
“Kiss her again.”
Garrett hesitates. This is different. It’s not just a stolen kiss—it’s a declaration. He’s being told: kiss her while I’m inside her, in front of everyone, and let’s see what happens.
“Do it,” Miles says, absolute. “I want her to moan in your mouth when she comes on my fingers.”
Garrett doesn’t waste time. He curls over me, traces my lips with his tongue, then kisses me deep. Sage and honey crash over my senses and I groan into his lips.
Miles works me harder. He’s relentless, moving his fingers faster. He gives no mercy.
I come in seconds. The orgasm rips through me and I scream into Garrett’s mouth, body shaking, hands clenching at the nest. He holds me, gentle, swallowing every sound.
When I stop, I’m a puddle. Miles’s hand is still between my legs, fingers moving, collecting slick.
And then he shocks me.
He crawls up the nest, all smug satisfaction, and brings his glistening fingers to Garrett’s lips. He traces the outline of them before sliding them inside.
Garrett’s eyes flutter closed. His throat works as he licks the fingers clean, tongue curling between them. He hums, low. When Miles pulls his fingers free, Garrett’s hard, straining against his shorts.
Gabriel and Cyrus are still there. Watching. Waiting for something to shatter.
Miles pulls his fingers out, satisfied. “Good, Alpha,” he says.
Then he turns to me. “Shower. Come on.”
I follow, legs barely working, leaving the rest of the pack behind, all of them watching us go.
***
Hours later, after showers, breakfast, and the weird, dreamlike normal that comes after something huge but unspoken, we’re back on the floor.
Miles built a new nest in front of the couch. Blankets, pillows, the works. There’s a penguin documentary on TV, but no one’s really watching. It’s an excuse to pile together.
I’m between Cyrus and Gabriel. Miles is wedged between Gabriel and Garrett. We’re arranged like a puzzle, everyone touching. Cyrus has his hand on my arm, thumb tracing circles, and Miles doesn’t even blink.
I keep waiting for the blowup. For Miles to see Cyrus’s hand and go territorial, for the wall to slam back down, for everything to go back to normal.
It doesn’t. He’s relaxed. Peaceful, even. He’s pressed against Gabriel, feet tangled with Garrett’s, and every time I sneak a glance, he looks content in a way I’ve never seen.
I feel amazing. No headache or nausea. The constant, scraping hunger that’s been haunting me for weeks is… gone. There’s warmth and fullness, and the deep relief of finally getting what I need.
Gabriel’s phone rings.
He answers with a grunt—the universal sound of a man who does not want to talk to anyone right now. But his voice changes quickly, polite and smooth, his outsider voice.
“It’s for you,” he says, handing me the phone.
I take it, confused. “Hello?”
“Lily, hi. It’s Jeremy.” Bright and easy, like he’s already sure I’ll be glad to hear from him. And there’s a part of me that is. The part that remembers the bonfire and how he held my hand. The part that’s still afraid to hope too much around the Santos pack.
“I wanted to check in,” Jeremy says. “I was disappointed when Gabriel called and said you weren’t ready to come. I thought things were going well between us.”
I get up, walk to the kitchen to take the call. I feel Miles tracking my every move, but I don’t look back.
“They are,” I admit. “I do like your pack, Jeremy. It’s just a big decision. I barely know you.”
“I get that. That’s why I’m calling. I’d like to see you again. No pressure, only a visit. So we continue to learn about each other.”
I hesitate. The morning’s nest, the kisses, how everything felt real for once—it’s all still humming inside me. The Santos pack is turning into something I never thought I’d have.
But Miles hasn’t asked me to stay. Not for good. He wants more time, and more time has an ending. Eventually, I’ll need a place to go.
“Okay,” I say.
“Great. Is tomorrow evening too soon? My pack is attending an event for my father’s business. He’s been under the weather and needs me to fill in. We’d love to have you with us.”
“That should be fine.”
“Perfect. It’s formal attire. I’ll pick you up around six.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
I return the phone to Gabriel. “Jeremy wants to see me tomorrow. I said yes.”
Gabriel nods, face unreadable. The penguin documentary plays on, but the mood has shifted. Nobody says anything for a second.
It starts small. Miles sighs, a little too loud, and starts making snarky comments about penguin mating rituals. Then he moves on to Jeremy.
“Jeremy the prude,” he mutters. “Jeremy and his weird bonfires. What’s he going to do tomorrow, read her poetry? That guy wouldn’t know what to do with an omega if you gave him an instruction manual.”
Garrett snorts. Gabriel covers a smile.
“He’s nice to me,” I say.
“Nice is boring. Nice is what you say when you can’t say anything else. Oh, he’s so nice. Opens doors, sends flowers, probably cries at sunsets.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“It’s not a good thing either.”
He moves, wedging himself between me and Cyrus, all elbows, curling up with the possessiveness of a cat who’s caught his mouse.
He doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t need to. We all know.
The penguins keep waddling. Miles mumbles into my shoulder. Garrett catches my eye and mouths he’s jealous, grinning like a fool.
I don’t argue. I lean back into the warmth of the pack and try not to think about how tomorrow I’ll be sitting in Jeremy Carr’s truck, pretending this morning didn’t change everything.
But it did.
I just haven’t figured out what to do about it yet.