Page 27 of Packing for Vacation

“I have to know,” he says almost apologetically, leaving me whining as he removes his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth, lips closing around two digits with a groan, his long lashes dusting his cheeks as his eyes close.

“Good?”

His answer is another bruising kiss, a growl in my mouth. I taste myself on his tongue, and decide then and there that I need more.

“Off,” I choke out between gasping breaths, hands scrambling at the hem of his shirt while he sucks on my neck, right over my scent gland. Bite me, alpha, my omega urges me to beg, and I bite down on my own lip instead, swallowing back the words despite how fucking good it feels to have his mouth right there. Scott rises to his knees, reaching behind himself to grab the neck of his shirt, yanking it off his body in one smooth motion, revealing a body that’s all lean muscle and washboard abs, the outline of his cock thick against the fabric of his shorts. I whine, reaching out as he goes to toss his shirt away, and he hands it to me with a smile.

“Such an omega.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

There’s the slightest pause in the rush of things as the words settle with a weight that I don’t think either of us intended, but which rings true. How common are pack marriages in NZ? is one of the many things I’ve searched on my phone in the quiet hours since learning of these two men, oscillating between pipe-dreams and the daunting reality that I have a plane ticket flying me back home in less than four weeks.

I push those thoughts away and rise, pressing against Scott’s bare chest until he falls back against the mattress. I kiss his neck and rub my cheek against it for good measure, coating myself in his scent. My lips follow a path down his body. Feeling drunk off his pine and salt, I bite gently just above his hip. My hands work the button on his shorts, his cock springing free, long and thick, the knot at the base of his shaft already swollen. I try not to fall into the desperate omega stereotype — he’s going to see enough of that during my upcoming heat — and so resist the urge to swallow his cock like a starving woman. Instead I kiss and lick my way slowly over the smooth skin of his knot and up his shaft, tracing the path of a prominent vein with my tongue, slowly manipulating his foreskin back and forth over the head, grinning at the way it jerks in my hand, a bead of precum pooling at the tip.

His taste is everything I need it to be, and for a moment I’m standing at the ocean’s edge, a forest of pine at my back, the salty air whipping my hair about me. I moan around his cock, let him feel just how pleased I am with him, and finally take him deep until he hits the back of my throat.

“Fuck that’s good. It—” He breaks off in a grunt as I cup his balls and suck hard at the same time. I release him from my mouth, smiling up at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “It’s too good,” he says, lips curving in a sheepish smile. “And I know you’re going to say you’re an omega and you love cum—” I frown a little, and he laughs. “—Come on, you can’t deny that after last night.”

I shrug, rolling my eyes and nodding. “Touché.”

“Exactly. However, my masculinity has already taken a big blow this afternoon — and yes that was my own damn fault,” he adds, before I can say anything, “and I don’t think I can handle a timeline where I end up prematurely ejaculating into your mouth instead of eating you out and fucking your brains out like I’m supposed to in this scenario, again.”

I press another kiss to the head of his cock defiantly.

“Elizabeth.”

“Scotty.”

“I’m going to taste your pussy now, okay?”

He’s asking, but there’s an element of alpha demand in there, the kind that sends pleasant shivers down my spine. He notices it too, a flash of recognition in his eyes, a twitch at the corner of his mouth as I say “Okay.”

I sense the shift in him, alpha dominance rolling off him in waves. He kicks off his shorts and underwear wordlessly while I lie back.

“Nervous?”

“Pleasantly surprised,” I answer truthfully.

“Good.” He’s kneeling between my spread legs again, this time completely naked. I bite my lip, watching the way he squeezes his cock, his eyes roaming over my body hungrily. “It’s hard to know where to start.”

“I thought you were starting with my pussy.”

“I changed my mind.” It’s the only warning I get before he’s reaching forward, tugging down the top of my dress, my breasts spilling free. “Fuck me,” he utters quietly.

“That’s the plan.”

That earns me a smile. “You’re beautiful,” he declares, his hands now on my knees, pushing my legs apart. “I want to see all of you. At the same time, there’s something to be said for this look.” He lifts my skirt, hands smoothing over my soft belly and thighs, fingers hooking into my underwear, undressing only the most necessary parts. “Yeah, I like this,” he says, my panties clutched tight in his fist. “Like a work of art.”

It’s hard to accept the compliment without cracking a joke, but I force myself to. I keep telling myself I like my body, because I want to like it. Every time I hear Scott or Matiu say it, it makes it all the more believable.

“Sorry,” he adds. “You’re just too beautiful. I’m getting all distracted.” I think he knows how vulnerable I feel. He leans over me, kissing my lips, my jaw, my neck. His teeth graze my collarbone while his hand cups my breast, and then he’s sucking a nipple into his mouth, his weight covering me, his free hand settling on the mound of my pussy. I cry out, squirming underneath him, as he pushes two fingers inside me, the heel of his hand pressed to my clit. He teases me like that, his fingers making wet sounds, the smell of my slick thick in the air.

“Please.”

“Stay still.”