Page 96 of Pack End Game

“Fuck,” I growl the word. “I’m sorry. I think I went into rut.”

The apology is sincere, but I can’t stop. I’m snapping my hips, grinding my knot into her cunt, determined to make sure she gets her fill of my seed.

Breed her.

“Don’t stop, Daddy,” Mia cries out from below me.

I don’t.

I release inside her, wanting to defy biology and birth control to breed her. And when her pussy flutters around my knot, I release again. Only then do I feel my body relax–everywhere except my knot.

I kiss Mia’s forehead, trying to show her how much she means to me after such rough handling.

She wraps her arms around my neck and drags my lips to hers. “Thank you.”

When my knot finally deflates, I roll us to the middle of the bed. She rests against my chest again, her head rolling to the side as she remains slightly dazed. “ You’re stuck with me now,” she says.

Freddie and Spencer are on either side of us, making themselves comfortable once more. We could all use a little more rest before we go back to the real world. Mia’s heat is coming to its inevitable end.

I bark out a laugh. “Sweetheart, that was always the plan.”

Spencer’s arm rests around Mia. I grab hold of him and place a kiss on his wrist. Then, I kiss Mia’s forehead. And for good measure, I turn my head to give Freddie’s cheek a sweet kiss.

Freddie snuggles closer against my shoulder. “This is the best day of my life.”

The room is filled with our mingling scents. Comfort settles into my bones with a rightness that steals my breath.

Our pack is complete.

“You did so well, omega,” I whisper.

Her hand curls over my heart. “So did you, Daddy.”

Mia eventually goes boneless with exhaustion, cheek against my pectoral muscle. Spencer has one hand linked with Freddie’s over my body, holding us all together.

A perfect moment.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mia

I come back to myself slowly.

At first, all I know is warmth. A deep warmth that seeps into my bones and curls itself around me so that I don't know where I end and my comfort begins.

My brain takes its sweet time entering reality, but as it does, I become acutely aware of the pack.

My pack.

A heavy arm is draped across my waist. Someone's leg is tangled with mine. My cheek is pressed against a broad, warm chest that rises and falls beneath me in a steady rhythm. Another body is tucked close to my back. A set of fingers lazily traces patterns along my hip, and I'm not immediately sure if one of the three men can't stop touching me in their sleep or if maybe I'm not the only one stirring awake.

My lashes flutter open.

The nest is dim and soft around us, everything exactly as it should be. Blankets everywhere. Pillows kicked out of place all around the bed. The air is thick with our scents–hibiscus, eucalyptus, sandalwood, and sea salt–and the deeper scent of sex.

A shiver runs through me that obviously has nothing to do with being cold. I'm completely exhausted, my body seemingly drained completely of its usual energy. And yet, I can still feel a little flutter of awareness between my legs as the men start to stir.

I belong to them; they belong to me.