Page 162 of All Packed Up

She chuckled as Tate knocked Arlo off balance, following the alpha to the blankets below as he landed on his back. Wendy momentarily mourned the loss of his kisses, but the warmth from his hands tracing her sides made her remember there was so much more to share.

So she dipped her head to his chest, pressing her lips to soft, dark bronze skin. Arlo’s hands dove for her long hair with reverence, gathering the length into his hands and holding it out of her way as she moved south.

Wendy ate up the sight of him, hard and flushed a deep russet brown, shiny at the tip from all the precum he’d leaked while tasting her.

But his knot hadn’t popped yet, and Wendy dipped down to taste him with a new goal in mind. The saltiness of him burst against her tongue, and she circled her lips around the head to gather all that she could. It was a tease of what was to come, of what she wanted inside her.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the mattress behind her dipped and Tate palmed her hips, holding her still as he knocked his knees against hers to widen her thighs. Releasing her lips with a pop, she glanced over her shoulder at the other alpha, hair sliding through Arlo’s hands.

“I wanna feel you around my fingers,” he said with a shameless grin. His blue eyes flicked to his mate and back to her. “Don’t let him come yet. We’re saving it.”

Arlo lifted a hand from her hair and sent Tate the middle finger, a hum of affectionate annoyance vibrating behind the leather. Wendy melted between them, the ease they shared with one another evident even when she was in the middle. Like she belonged there.

Before Wendy could follow that thought into a spiral, she dipped her head back down and parted her lips around the head of Arlo’s cock.

He jerked at the touch, but she had enough weight over his thighs to hold him still. She dug her fingers into his skin, swallowed around him. She jolted when Tate’s fingers first slid against her folds, but then wiggled her hips toward him.

Beneath her, Arlo groaned as Wendy tasted him more thoroughly, palming him so she could lick a long stripe up the underside. The perfect mushroom head of him filled her mouth, and as Tate expertly located the bud of her clit, Wendy began to take him deeper.

Her focus was like static, pinging from one alpha to the other. She loved the bite of pain in her scalp from Arlo’s hold, whined at the way Tate plunged a finger into her, and swallowed around Arlo as he tried to buck up into the vibration of her moan.

How was she supposed to focus when Tate was…

Wendy drew up off Arlo with a gasp as he crooked his finger, singling out her sweet spot and making her quiver around him. She had half a mind to stroke Arlo as she was distracted, nipping the soft skin of his thigh as the slide of Tate’s finger suddenly became a lot easier.

“Focus, Wendy,” Tate murmured, the sound of his deep voice trickling along her senses and sending shivers over her spine.

Arlo was waiting, guiding her back to him with half lidded eyes that were barely visible over the bite guard.

And suddenly… Wendy might have understood why so many people were intrigued by the masquerade stuff. She couldn’t very well blame them with the look in Arlo’s eyes making her want awful, filthy things.

With a tug of his hand in her hair, he brushed the head of his cock over her lips, and Wendy opened for him. He was hot and heavy against her tongue, and she closed her eyes as she lowered her head, taking him deeper with every downward stroke.

She couldn’t help the moans that interrupted her rhythm. Tate was busy showing her no mercy, thrusting two fingers inside and twisting to stroke the pads over her nerves.

Following her mouth with her fist, Wendy was learning every curve and ridge to Arlo, and as the moments passed, she wanted him inside her more and more.

As Tate added three, and then four fingers, she finally pulled off of Arlo, felt the beginnings of his knot starting to swell beneath her fist.

“Okay,” she whined, directing her gaze toward Tate. “Lemme have him,” she asked breathlessly. Her core clenched around nothing as he slid his fingers down the back of her thigh, wet with her own slick.

A sexy smirk curled his lips, and Wendy sighed in relief as she moved to straddle Arlo.

“Nah-ah,” Tate stopped her. “Lie down,” he directed.

Wendy’s back hit the sheets before he was finished speaking, and she wiggled to get comfy amongst all the blankets.

The next second, she was staring up at Arlo as his hips slid between her legs. The heat of him brushed against her, and it was like a new fire had been lit. She arched up to him, parting her thighs wider and smoothing her hands down his chest. Curling her hands around his hips, Wendy met his darkened gaze.

She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth as Arlo ground himself against her. The friction was heavenly, and Wendy ached for her alpha.

All it took was a needy little whine for Arlo to tug his hips back, notching himself at her core. Wendy tensed as she felt his hips swing forward, felt his length slide inside her one inch at a time. They’d wrung so much pleasure from her already, she was dripping wet, but Arlo was also an alpha. His hips drew his cock out of her, and she moaned as he thrust in again, forging a little bit deeper with each round.

Wendy tightened her knees around him, mirroring his rhythm for more. In moments, she had what she wanted, the slick slap of skin echoing around the tent, swirling with their syrupy scents and soft groans. She dug her nails into Arlo’s hips as she felt the nudge of something thicker at her entrance.

“Your knot,” Wendy breathed, and she canted her hips up at him, signaling in the basest of ways to tell her alpha what she wanted.

Arlo’s rhythm stuttered at the same time she felt something touch her nose, and she blinked her eyes open. When had she even closed them?