Page 163 of All Packed Up

The darkest of espresso eyes came into focus as Arlo lifted his head, bored into hers, pupils as wide as she imagined her own. Even with the guard covering most of his face, Wendy could still see so much of Arlo. She watched his brows furrow as he focused on the rhythm. Watched his head hang limp as his thrusts smacked against her harder, slamming himself inside her. It coaxed a sound from her lips every time—she’d long ago forgotten about the concept of being quiet—and each sound only spurred him on for more.

Breath ragged, Wendy dragged her hands up his sides, over his shoulders, and felt the muscle working there as Arlo held himself up.

She framed her hands on either side of his neck, tilted his head up enough so she could see his gaze. Half lidded as it was, Arlo peered down at her with something close to what she’d seen in movies. In other packs, but never her own, never aimed at her.

The closest thing it came to was reverence, but a little more desperate. A needier version. It made her breath catch, made the sounds in the tent swim around her in a roar that she could only hear between her own ears.

Wendy slid her hands to his shoulders, shoved him away and onto the mattress. Following, she settled herself over his thighs before sitting up and taking him in again with a moan. His palms fell to her knees and squeezed as she rolled her hips in his lap.

“Eyes on Arlo, babes.”

Wendy gasped at the sound of Tate’s voice so close, remembering he was there, watching and making sure she was safe. She trusted him to take care of her, to step in if needed.

Flicking her eyes down to the alpha beneath her, she rolled her hips over him and cried out at the change in angle. Somehow it felt even deeper than before, and she ground her hips against him, greedy for the way he moved within her.

Planting her palms on Arlo’s chest, she braced herself, caught what leverage and balance she could, and finally let her hips do all the work. Her breath was choppy and weak as it spilled from her lips in the forms of little ahs, chasing the ache of the heat away one thrust at a time.

Her ass smacked against Arlo’s thighs each time she slid down his cock, until the moment she felt his knot press against her core, threatening to stretch her open even wider. Arousal ebbed and flowed within her, making the slide of Arlo downright delicious as she took him in at the best angle.

Heats were always messy, and this one was no exception. Her juices dripped down to slick up Arlo’s knot, the wet, hot pressure of it just there. But Wendy wasn’t sure she wanted this to end just yet.

It wasn’t often she found herself staring down at an alpha like this, but as she watched Arlo’s brows dip in overwhelming pleasure, knowing she was the omega making him feel good…

She slowed her hips down, letting herself enjoy every inch of him sliding inside her.

Her eyes fluttered closed, mouth dropping open at the way Arlo’s cock speared her. At the way she was in charge.

The foreign enjoyment of her heat swelled within her, and though it was new, unfamiliar, she let herself enjoy it.

It wasn’t as if the heats with the Sterling Pack weren’t pleasurable… that was kind of the point of a heat. But they’d taken her heat as an excuse to prod and poke at her boundaries, to push and pressure until her pleasure was overridden by her need to stay alert, to make sure she didn’t agree to anything she didn’t want.

She hadn’t ever been able to let herself go like this, to simply… trust the alphas that were with her. Beneath her.

Inside her and scattering her senses until all that was left was want. Wendy let the pleasure consume her, let her worries go.

“That’s right.” Tate’s low voice rumbled across her senses. “Come on…”

Tate was the voice of reason to the side, watching, waiting. Because this wouldn’t be the end, this was just the beginning, Arlo was just the beginning. The idea of another alpha sheathing himself in her while she was still wet from Arlo’s release made every part of her tighten with desire.

Blinking down at Arlo, she met his heavy-lidded gaze, dug her nails into his chest, and bounced on his lap, taking him a little harder each time, feeling his knot press and tease and promise something even more delicious if she would just take it.

“Keep talking, please,” she gasped, because Tate’s low voice was just another reminder that those alphas were nowhere near here.

The blankets shuffled, and she felt warmth against her back. “Is this okay?” Tate asked by her right ear.

“Yes,” Wendy said, dragging her hands down Arlo’s chest and stomach until she was holding on to Tate, the change in angle making her whine.

Arlo’s gaze slid to his mate over her shoulder.

“Jealous?” Tate murmured, his words for Arlo only.

Wendy’s breath caught as the two stared at each other, as Tate’s hands slid to her hips and urged her to continue her rhythm.

“You’re the one inside her.” Tate’s voice was little more than a tease of breath across her skin. Shivers danced down her spine as they spoke about her as if she wasn’t right between them.

“And you have this perfect view,” he added, palms sliding up her stomach to her breasts. Tate squeezed and kneaded them, the extra stimulation from her sensitive nipples making her rhythm stutter with a moan.

One of Arlo’s hands fisted the sheets, knuckles so light she wondered if he’d accidentally rip them. His other was poised on her thigh, fingers spread wide and biting into her skin.