Chapter 24 Freddie #4
Bianca giggles into my neck, the sound so carefree it makes my chest ache. She ignores Owen completely, her fingers still tracing patterns on my skin.
“Oh hell.” Tristan throws a blanket over us.
I look up to see all three of them standing around us, taking in the scene with varying degrees of shock, arousal, and pure jealousy. The unmistakable smell of sex and lasagna thick in the air.
“We made dinner,” Bianca finally answers Owen, her voice light and teasing.
Then she laughs—this gorgeous, unrestrained sound that bubbles up from deep in her chest—and I can’t help but join her, even with Weller’s eyes drilling into me.
“You’re such an amazing lover, Freddie,” she sighs, her voice still a little breathless and dreamy.
The energy in the room shifts instantly. I feel like strutting around like a goddamn rooster. This day just keeps on getting better.
Tristan makes a choking sound. “Freddie? An amazing lover?” His voice is strained, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.
I can’t help the smug smile that spreads across my face. Sue me.
Bianca doesn’t even glance at him as she answers, her eyes locked on mine like I’m the only person in the room. “Yes, an amazing lover.” Her finger traces the line of my jaw. “What do you want me to say? That he fucked me so good I’m pretty sure I drooled a little? Because that is true too.”
Jesus Christ. My knot twitches inside her and I’m absolutely interested again. I can feel her body respond to it, a subtle clench that has me biting the inside of my cheek.
“Or was I supposed to say something else, Trissy?” Bianca asks innocently, but there’s nothing innocent about the wicked glint in her eyes.
Trissy. Why do I think he’ll fucking love that?
“I love your dirty but very pretty little mouth,” Tristan says, his voice dropping to that velvet tone that usually means trouble. “And if Weller wasn’t about to pop a gasket, I’d come show you how much I missed you today.”
I can feel Bianca’s heartbeat quicken against my chest. She likes that. A lot.
Owen steps closer, his scent sharp with irritation. “Princess, is this some kind of punishment for not letting you come today?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Not everything is about you, Owen.”
She’s enjoying this. I duck my head close and nip at her ear. “Do you want them to beat me up or something?”
Weller’s jaw ticks. He says nothing, but his eyes track every point of contact between Bianca and me, even though most of us is covered by Tristan’s hastily thrown blanket.
Bianca leans forward and presses her lips to mine in a kiss that’s anything but innocent. Her tongue slides against mine, hot and demanding, and she moans into my mouth. I can’t help the low growl that rumbles up from my chest, my hands instinctively tightening around her body.
That triggers answering rumbles from the others. Bianca pulls back with a delighted giggle. Her lips are swollen and red, curved into the prettiest damn smile I’ve ever seen.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” I murmur against her ear.
“Are you... high?” Weller finally speaks.
“Mmm,” Bianca confirms, looking around at them for the first time. “You should try it, Welly Wells.”
The nickname makes Tristan snort.
Weller isn’t laughing. I’ve seen that look enough times to know I’m in for a lecture later. Yay me. Anger is oozing off of him, and I know it’s not the weed… or the sex. It’s about there now being footage of Bianca exposed like this. I do feel guilty about it.
“Definitely not part of the plan, Freddie,” he says, his eyes narrowing at me.
Bianca wags her finger at me but looks at him. “Sorry, Daddy. Didn’t know there were so many rules.”
“Oh fuck,” Tristan says, laughing. “She’s so much fun.”
Owen hasn’t taken his eyes off Bianca’s face since he walked in. I can’t tell if he’s jealous, pissed, or completely enraptured. Maybe all three.
“I’ll stay home with her next time,” Tristan volunteers, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Keep her out of trouble.”
Weller glares at him, but Tristan just smirks and shrugs.
Owen is predictable as ever. “You got her this morning, fuck off.”
Bianca perks up at that. “You handcuffed me, Owen. I might put you on restriction for a week.”
“Princess,” Owen says, his voice dropping into that register that has always affected her, “you look like you need a shower.” No cameras in the bathroom. Smart.
Bianca wiggles off of me as my knot finally deflates enough to slip free, right before she flings the blanket off of her and stands up, completely unbothered by her own nudity. I reach to pull her back down, to shield her, but she avoids my grasp.
“I’ll let you wash me, Owen,” she says, walking up to him with a sway to her hips. She presses her finger into his chest, and I can see the evidence of me dripping down her thighs. “But you’re not permitted to touch me with your mouth or your cock.”
“Scrumptious,” Tristan says, laughing at Owen’s predicament. “I think I’ll keep her.”
Owen makes a disgruntled noise and looks absolutely miserable, but he wraps her back up in the blanket and grabs her hand to drag her down the hall. I’m not convinced she won’t give in to him once they’re alone. Resisting Owen’s charms is not her strong suit.
Weller stares after them and shakes his head. “We’re having a pack meeting about this situation,” he says. “Tonight.”
I groan, already dreading it.
Weller follows after Owen and Bianca, inevitably to make sure Owen doesn’t push his luck. That leaves just me and Tristan in the kitchen, surrounded by the aftermath of what was supposed to be a simple baking session.
“So,” Tristan says, surveying the mess, “what did you two make us?”
I look at the oven, suddenly remembering the timer that’s been beeping this whole time. “Shit. Get the lasagna out.”