Page 75 of Psycho Pack

I focus on the task at hand, on the exquisite tightness gripping my fingers. On the way Ivy's body yields to me, opening up under my careful touch. On the soft, desperate whimpers and mewls she makes with each thrust and twist of my fingers.

"Such a brave, good girl," I murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to the base of her spine.

She whimpers at the praise, her inner walls clenching around my fingers. I can feel her pulse racing, her heart thundering against my palm where it rests on her back. Every inch of her trembles, caught between pleasure and pain, between wanting more and feeling overwhelmed.

I work a fourth finger in alongside the others, stretching her impossibly wider. The added girth draws another sharp cry from her and her muscles lock up more than ever.

"Shh," I soothe, my free hand stroking her hip. "Breathe through it. The pain will pass."

She nods jerkily, her breath coming in short, sharp pants as she hyperventilates. I can see the tension in every line of her body, the way she fights against the instinct to pull away. Fights against the instinct to tell me to stop.

Such strength.

Such determination.

My beautiful, fierce little omega.

I hold still, giving her time to adjust. Beneath her, Whiskey groans and growls, his hips twitching upward involuntarily. The movement jostles Ivy again as she straddles his bulk, driving my fingers deeper. She keens, the sound high and desperate.

"Easy," I growl at Whiskey. "Control yourself."

He snarls in frustration but stills his hips. His hands grip Ivy's waist, fingers digging into her soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The sight sends a possessive thrill through me. I want to mark her too, to leave my own imprint on her perfect skin.

But not yet.

First, I have to make sure she's ready.

I begin to move my fingers again, slowly withdrawing before pressing back in. Each thrust goes a little deeper, a little smoother, until her ass is taking all four of my fingers and half my hand. It's all that will fit. Ivy's body yields to me, acceptingthe intrusion with growing eagerness. Her pained whimpers transform into breathy moans.

The thought of how it will feel when I'm finally buried inside her alongside him makes my head spin.

"There we go," I murmur, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice. "You're opening up so beautifully for us."

She pushes back against my hand, seeking more in spite of what must be discomfort at the very least. The movement drives Whiskey deeper inside her pussy, drawing a strangled moan from him. His cock twitches against my fingers as he rolls his hips, and I punish him for moving without permission by turning my knuckles against his crown and pressing hard.

He jerks and hisses through his clenched teeth.

But he stops.

I redouble my efforts, determined to stretch her as thoroughly as possible. My fingers move in a steady rhythm, thrusting and twisting, scissoring and curling. I map every inch of her, committing each reaction, every spot that earns a gasp and cry, to memory. The full-body shudder that runs through her when I graze my teeth against the curve of her ass.

Every response is catalogued, analyzed, filed away for future reference.

"P-please," Ivy whimpers, her voice raw and desperate. "I need... I can't..."

"What do you need, little one?" I ask, though I know the answer.

I want to hear her say it.

Need to hear her beg for it.

She squirms, pressing her ass back against my hand. "Please. Knot me…"

I withdraw my fingers slowly, savoring the sight of Ivy's stretched hole fluttering and gaping open from all the training Ijust put her through. A primal hunger burns through me at the view.

She's ready.

Positioning myself behind her, I press the head of my cock against her puckered entrance. Ivy whimpers, her body tensing in anticipation. With steady pressure, I begin to sink inside. The tight ring of muscle resists at first, then yields. My crown pops past the barrier and Ivy lets out a hoarse wail muffled by Whiskey's chest, her back arching sharply.

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