Page 66 of Three of a Kind

“I ache.” She circles my crown with her thumb. “If you’re not going to seal the deal, then maybe I should call Maverick in here.”

My hand lowers from cradling her stomach to under the fabric of her dress to slap her pussy.

Doesn’t she understand how dangerous it is to taunt a half-feral alpha?

Apparently not.

Brooklyn gasps, but it doesn’t deter her actions. She uses the back of her hand to shove my jeans farther apart while still jerking me with her fingers.

I’m not in much better shape.

Touching her slick cunt only spurs me on. I grab her pussy as she dives for my mouth once more. I don’t even know when I opened my eyes, but the edges of my vision are hazy.

That’s also a problem.

She tugs my shaft completely free of my jeans as I get myself together. My hands fall to her hips, lifting her. She immediately wraps her legs around my ass, shoving my jeans down as I try to walk us to the bed.

Her hand lands in my hair as the other works my dick. Walking with one’s jeans around one’s ankles is not easy when carrying precious cargo.

I shuffle along, trying to keep us upright and myself from being completely lost to the fog.

Brooklyn rakes my crown through her slick, and a snarl bubbles out of my chest. I know I’m good. We have full checkups after every mission. Our jobs can get messy, and we have contact with bodily fluids at times.

They’re never as enjoyable as the type currently dripping all over my cock, but the urge to spank her fucking ass for not checking with me first is strong.

Brooklyn whines, shoving herself down my length.

Luckily, the bed comes into view because my knees wobble as her warm heat stretches around my crown. I tug her dress off over her head, tossing it aside before kicking out of my jeans.

Thank fuck I lost my socks when I took off my boots. Otherwise, I’d be the dumbass in socks the first time I get to claim my omega.

Tightening my hold on Brooklyn’s back, I lower her to the mattress.

“No. Deeper,” she hisses, clawing at my ass. “Please, Gunner.”

“I’m trying here, gorgeous,” I growl. “Is it safe for you to be on your back?”

“Knot me!” Her commanding tone almost has me slamming home, but I shake my head.

It doesn’t force away the fog completely, but it does remind me she’s growing a human being, and I don’t want to fuck anything up by getting lost to the pheromone haze.

I climb over her leg, tossing myself down on the mattress.

“Gunner,” she gasps.

“If you want my knot, then take it.” I’m not expecting her to pounce.

For having a pretty significant baby belly, she moves swiftly. Her heavy tits end up on my pelvis, but rather than scooting up, she slides down.

I sit up in a crunch, trying to grab her arms.

“What are you doing?” I groan as her tongue wraps around my crown. “I thought you wanted me to knot you.”

She smiles around my length as her hair tickles my legs and lower stomach. “I did. I do. I need your cum, and my instincts said this was the way to go.”

Her wet tongue feels like heaven gliding up and down my shaft, but her arms burn my thighs.

“Brooklyn,” I growl, burying my hand in her hair at the base of her skull. “You’re supposed to be riding me.” It’s very hard to keep focused on her well-being when my instincts want me to toss her down and rut into her over and over again.

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