Page 87 of The Gift
“Open the page back up and pretend. We’re going to be with you no matter what, but give yourself this, Bails, to dream of what you want, and to let yourself enjoy it. I saw your nest, and it was exactly you, and there’s nothing in that to be ashamed or embarrassed of. An instinctively softer side of you isn’t anything to hide, seeing that is a part of who we’re going to be together. And we want you to be living the dream. If that includes a mile or two of pale pink ribbon, with silky pillows in dusky peach or grey cashmere blankets, let it.”
“All that sounds awfully… sweet. You do realise though, that the only thing I’m dreaming of is your knot so far inside my pussy I see stars and pass out after suffering the biggest orgasm in my life.”
“Which is all happening. But it’s the time in between us covering you in come and filling your peachy ass or making your pussy drip. Want me to go on? Without a doubt we’re taking turns to fill your mouth so much you can’t swallow, or we’re going to be sucking on your tits so hard they bruise, but once you’re done, full and satisfied, that’s when you’ll want the softness to float in. All of you is going to be hyper-sensitive and without freaking you out, Bails, you’re going to be softer than a marshmallow, with an insatiable hunger for cock that we’re going to struggle to fulfil.”
“I can’t see it,” I whisper, watching him drive, visualising what he is suggesting but getting caught up on the physical side of reclaiming or becoming who I really am. And yeah, it turns me the hell on. I can pretty much feel everything Koda is saying will happen. My pussy throbs in anticipation and the cab fills with my scent, making him breathe through his mouth.
“I only want you. And Reno, Ashton, and Henley. Nothing else matters. If I need more, we’ll figure it out then. Deal?”
He turns to me, driving faster again, his eyes mirroring my own want. “Yeah, Bails, that’s a deal.”
And the drive is good. The first hour flies past with lots of deliciously slow kisses on the side of the road, interspersed with me impressing the hell out of him with my terrible singing prowess. Sometimes we talk about theories on who sent the awful cocktail to me, other times we gossip about the alphas I met. By the start of the second hour, my nerves and fluttering butterflies metamorphosis, and Koda starts quizzing me on how I’m feeling more and more.
One second we’re joking around about what’s probably going to happen, and then I get the first taste of what will happen. And yeah, I’m calling it a first since all the artificial dousing agents are leaving my system it means my natural omega reactions are all brand new to me. Much like Reno said, once the last suppressant wore off I was going to be in for one heck of ride.
The little voice inside me, keeps urging me to remember Koda’s suggestion that I haven’t even touched on what’s going to happen.
Bailey
The lights are the first thing to go, no that’s not right, it’s like I’m a moth to a flame attracted to it but the intensity of looking at it hurts like the sparking ignition of a migraine. He says nothing, handing over his sunglasses, despite us driving through the night.
And then in the next dips and bends of the road, I start feeling like a moist oyster. Which for the record, is so damn tragic. No one alive wants to feel like that. I’m warm but not hot, my body feels sluggish and slow, but my mind sprints in all directions. I’m shivering because I’m cold, noise hurts my ears, breathing feels strange, my eyes refuse to stay open.
“Give me that jacket, Bails,” he says softly. His voice especially low and he slows the car down, so he can fumble a makeshift pillow for me, my head on his thigh, his arm on my shoulder, his presence everywhere.
Without the radio on, it’s the mix of the road noise and his deep breathing that distracts me, and my eyes close. Although it could also be the way his thick fingers massage over my scalp. Salons around the world would never hire this man—they’d never get their clients past the washing station.
I get what’s happening, all my senses are realigning, becoming what they should have always been.
Turning to bury my face against his jeans, his smoke and denim smell tumbling past a scent and into a memory, and a promise. Koda has always smelled like black silky sheet sex, he also has this crazy ability to grip my fear hiding deep inside, holding it back for me, so I have nothing to worry about. My eyes close and I sink into everything he offers.
“Bailey,” Reno’s voice wraps around me in my dreams. I get a little lost until that snoozy spot mixes with reality and I snuggle up into his arms as he pulls me up to sitting.
One second there’s three of us, then there’s five and by god, Pack Bailey intensify everything. Their scent is so much more potent now, and I respond instantly to their strong presence and influence. My body definitely makes sure I don’t ignore their arrival, nor can they ignore my reactions to them; I blush as my breathing picks up, rushing past my lips. I go from cosy warm to tropical hot steam in the space of a couple more breaths. Reno warned us this would happen. He’d been consistent and clear about it for a while and I get his persistence now.
For so long, I’ve hovered in a hidden curtained existence trying to find my way. There were times when I really wondered if I had lost my fucking marbles trying to live the way I did. Obviously, I had nailed a winning combination of medicines and home-made remedies because in front of them, with nothing to hold back my awakening eagerness, it’s overwhelming to say the least.
“Whoa.” I hold my hand up after fumbling out of Reno’s hold. Four sets of hands dart out to steady me. And I don’t know how they do it, but it’s like they employ magic to stir the air, enhancing their scents with even more potency before they air bend it my way.
“Stop, stop, stop,” I sing out, getting caught repeating myself over and over. And it would be funny, under normal circumstances, when the four of them take a few rather large, and obvious steps backwards. They look way too smug after witnessing my responses to seeing them. They’re almost gloating; licking their lips, brushing their hair back, cracking knuckles and rolling shoulders. Posturing like the stunning peacocks they are.
“You should be looking more… contrite,” I hiss at them, whipping off Koda’s hoodie in the process. I definitely blame them and their smouldering stares, making my temperature skyrocket.
Of course, in my haste my tank gets caught up and ends up flying into the distance, leaving me standing in the skimpiest and most see-through bra in the world and their pretty claim around my neck. My nipples poking out, clearly enjoying the salivating attention of Pack Bailey.
I move so quickly to wrap my arms around myself, but all it does is send a wave of my scent crashing back to them.
“What the fuck are you not wearing?” Henley’s question rumbles, but unlike before when he was being a bit of a ruttish dick, now when he speaks it’s full of hot—burning hot—lava like intention that nips over my skin.
“Drop your arms, Bailey,” Ashton barks. His voice so intentional and strong it’s like an alpha command, but it’s not and it’s not the reason I react. They’re doing tag team alpha domination today, and I really like it. And my inner princess, the one I’ve never let see the light of day, blushes, and swoons under the vocal demands of her princes.
Watching him closely, my arms drop to my sides and he responds like I wanted. His mouth falling open, but beside him they each do something similar.
“Bails, can we move this into our suite?” Koda interrupts, his voice cracked.
“Jesus! Fuck! Are you serious?” I squawk, seeing for the first time that we are indeed staying in a place similar to a back dock of a shopping centre.
“Do you seriously think if there were people around here, or any chance of it, that we would be demanding to see your nipples?” Ashton explains, although he remains a little waspish in his speech.
