Page 58 of Pack End Game

I lay boneless, watching as he presses the impressive length of his veiny cock against my clit. He doesn’t move lower, even if I want him to; he just rubs himself against me. His hand is squeezed around his knot as he thrusts his hips forward, groaning as his cum covers my pussy.

Okay, that’s hot.

I’m exhausted in the best way, my limbs heavy and my eyelids drooping closed. I barely notice being cleaned up, untied, and tucked into the center of the bed.

“Thank you,” I manage to mumble in a sleepy whisper, drifting off as my pack surrounds me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Zak

The house looks vaguely familiar.

Pale brick. Black shutters. Red front door.

Something is unsettling about the familiarity. Where have I seen this house before?

As I get out of the car, my neck prickles with an eerie awareness. If this is what Mia considers good energy, we might have to have a little talk.

Rufus waits for us on the front porch, a pastel pink scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. His arms are crossed as he leans against the column at the top of the porch steps. He shifts his weight restlessly as we approach the house.

The smile he gives us strikes me as uneasy, and not as enthusiastic as usual.

"Look at these flower beds!" Mia gasps, staring lovingly at the well-manicured flower bed lining the porch. Someone has taken great care to grow a beautiful collection of native plants.

"They're nice," Freddie agrees before quickly jerking his head to look back over his shoulder.

I tilt my head in question. He waits until Mia is walking up the steps toward Rufus before he leans over and whispers, "I feel like someone is watching me. Or sneaking up behind me. Did you check for cars following us here?"

That makes me raise my eyebrows.

"I think I would have noticed a car following us. Who do you think we are? Undercover CIA agents?" There have only been a few occasions we've even done anything noteworthy enough to be followed by paparazzi. Spencer and I are professional athletes, not A-list celebrities.

Freddie shrugs. Knowing him, his brain is probably engrossed in mental gymnastics, trying to think of a way that Spencer and I could be football players who secretly moonlight as CIA agents.

I swear, if he starts wiretapping our phones, I'm going to suggest to Spencer that he take away Freddie's online shopping privileges.

Rufus waits until we all join him on the porch before launching into realtor mode. "This house is original to the neighborhood, and has only had updates that remain true to the original craftsmanship. We have eight bedrooms, two of which are full suites, and then there are two rooms that share a jack-and-jill style shared bathroom. The full basement adds significant square footage, so there's always the opportunity to break that one large recreation space into some additional bedrooms as well, if you need that option down the road."

Ah, yes, Rufus finally seems to be realizing that our jokes about having enough kids to make our own football team are not entirely jokes. Our pack will give our omega as many babies as she'll allow.

"Before we go inside, my personal ethics compel me to make a disclosure." Rufus inhales a slow, deep breath.

Spencer presses his shoulder to mine, looking from Mia to Rufus. "That sounds ominous."

Rufus wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, sweat practically pouring from his temples despite the cool fall weather. I’m worried. We should have all spent more time talking about the importance of structural integrity before engaging in this house hunt.

What if he's about to tell us this house has termites?

Or black mold?

Or major cracks in the foundation?

Worry does me no good until I hear what Rufus has to say. I grind my teeth as I wait for him to continue.

"A homicide took place in this home four years ago."

"A murder house?" Freddie's head whips in every direction, back to desperately searching for the source of that watched feeling. "You brought us to a murder house?" He turns to Mia with accusatory eyes. "Did you know?"