Page 91 of Heat Clinic

“Sam, are you okay?” Emily asks, stroking my thighs.

I don’t have the words to explain it. To say how wonderful it is, how bittersweet knowing that I’m pack but we’re not fully whole yet.

“He’s fine, luv. Just overwhelmed. Having other people in your soul is a lot to adjust to.” Tom puts the camera down and rubs my chest, some of the incomplete pack bond easing with his nearness and touch.

Marcus stops licking my bite mark when his knot shrinks, cum and lube making a mess between us as he helps me climb off his cock. Before he lets me go, he pulls me down to his face, the iron taste of my blood in his mouth sweet as he kisses me.

“Cuddle pile time?” Emily asks, rising off the floor. She grabs the cock ring from my shaft and gently twists it off, setting it aside to deal with later.

“Cuddle pile time,” Marcus agrees, dragging me into the nest and spooning me. He tangles his legs with mine as if to trap me there. As if there’s anywhere I’d rather be but in this nest, in the arms of my alpha and the comfort of my packmates.

I sigh as we settle, and Tom and Emily climb in with us. She kneels on the bed and grabs one of her fluffy blankets and wraps it around her shoulders, then fingers the chain between her breasts.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. She’s usually lying against me now. She likes to be the big spoon, even though she’s barely over five feet tall.

“I’m dreading taking these off. They hurt at first and now they’re numb, but I think they’re going to hurt like a bitch again as soon as I undo them.”

“It’s not that bad,” Tom says, reaching for the one between her legs. Before she can stop him, he plucks it free and she screams, slamming her legs closed and trapping his hand there.

“Yes, it fucking is!” she growls. “Oww!”

His hand moves, slurping between her thighs as he shoves his fingers inside her and pumps despite her squeezing. “And yet you’re soaking wet, luv. I can feel your clit pulsing. Does it hurt? Want me to rub it better?”

She scowls at him, but spreads her legs to give him better access as he rubs the sting from her tortured clit. Marcus and I both chuckle as we lie there and watch them bicker and fight, and then fuck. Tom lies down and pulls her onto his cock, fucking up into her as he twists her nipple chain in his fingers and tugs it. Her breasts sway with her movements until she’s flushed and panting. When she comes, he rips them off her. Her moans turn into whimpers as she collapses on top of him. When they’re done, he drags her fuzzy blanket over her and holds her.

Marcus rubs soothing circles against my back and thighs, grabbing my chin between his fingers to turn my head and check the marks.

“How’s the pain?” he asks.

My throat and my ass ache, but the deep satisfaction in my soul soothes any discomfort. “The pain is good.” It’s a reminder that it’s real. That it happened. I was claimed, and now I have a pack.

I cup his face and stare up at him, wondering how I ever got so damn lucky. “I love you.” The burst of warmth from his side of the bond makes me smile.

Marcus dips his head down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “I love you too.”

ChapterTwenty-Four

EMILY

Marcus and Tomboth drop us off at the train station, but it’s clear our alpha’s not happy about it. His wide arms cross over his chest, and his biceps threaten to rip a seam in his tailored suit jacket.

“We’ll be fine,” I say. “We’re just going to pack up our apartments, and then we’ll be back in three days.”

“I know. But I hate being separated,” Marcus says. “I’ll worry every minute until you’re back. Why can’t the movers we hired manage everything?”

I rub his arms and do my best to soothe him while passengers waiting to get onto the platform make a wide berth around my seething alpha who’s pumping outI’m upsetpheromones by the bucketful. His scent is so spicy that he almost makes me sneeze.

“Because some of my plants are very particular and they’ll try to die on me if they aren’t moved properly. It’s cold out, and I’ll have to wrap them. They’ll already be under a lot of stress from the move. Besides, we both have to break our leases and sign a bunch of paperwork and then quit our jobs and—”

“Right.” He sighs and rakes his hand through his hair. “I know I’m being irrational.”

“For the record, I already quit my job,” Sam says. He hikes his duffel bag up higher on his shoulder.

“You did?” I ask. “When?”

Sam shrugs. “Before we left. You didn’t?”

“No. I took FMLA, and my twelve weeks are up tomorrow. That’s why I have to go back and work at least one day or I’ll have to pay the benefit back.”

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