Page 108 of Pack of Crooks
Eventually my knot shrinks, but I stay inside her, committing every perfect ripple of her pussy to memory.
“That was,” she says, pausing to catch her breath. “Wow. That was intense. In a good way, though. I mean, I’ve never come that hard and the way you barked at me, I know you were only doing it to help me come, but like?—”
My mouth crashes into hers, cutting off her sentence. I chase away the rest of her nervous rambling, rocking my hips slightly just to feel her writhe beneath me even though my cock is overly sensitive to every movement. I break away when my lungs demand air, searching her face.
I pull out of her and she groans, features contorting in protest, but we have to break apart at some point. Her back arches off the bed and she full on whines.
“Did I hurt you?”
“God no,” she says with a laugh. “That was amazing.”
“Good, because we’re doing that again,” I warn her as I sit back. Stroking my hands down her sides, I bring them to her thighs, opening them and staring at where my cum drips out of her. I tsk and use two fingers to sweep it up, pushing it back inside of her, right where it belongs.
thirty-one
HAZEL
After dropping Lottie off with Milly, still too wary to leave her alone at night in such a big city, I make my way to the old textile factory. Surprisingly, it seems like I’m the first to arrive. The rusty door screams in protest as I wrench it open, crying out as it bangs closed behind me, closing me in the darkened hall. The doorway that leads to the main part of the hub is more than fifty feet away and that dull glow isn’t enough to light up the space.
Sighing, I push away the fear gripping my chest and make my way toward it, fighting the urge to itch under my mask. I make it halfway before there’s the faint sound of fabric moving behind me.
Heart skipping, I whirl around, peering into the pitch, but it’s so dark I can’t even see my own hand in front of my face.
Chill, Hazel. You’re fine.
Shaking my head, I turn around and continue, pausing again when I hear the same sound. The air rushes out of my lungs and I spin around again, this time greeted by three glowing masks that seem to be floating in the air. One red. One green. One blue.They’re ten steps away, standing in a line, their neon eyes pinned on me.
“Very funny, guys,” I say with an eyeroll even though they can’t see it through my own bunny mask.
They don’t say anything. Simply stand there and stare.
My eyebrows rise. “Oh, are we playing a game? Let me see, what’s my line. . . oh! I have it.Please, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!”
Someone chuckles. Probably Kill, but the sound is quickly stifled. They move toward me as one unit, and while I know it’s my pack, the sudden approach in the dark sends my pulse careening off the tracks.
Biting my lip, I back toward the door, gaze sliding over each mask, wondering if they’ve switched colors again or if I can assume green is Ezra, red is Kill, and blue is Maddox. It’s impossible to tell without more light.Thud.My back knocks into the door, and I tip my chin up, holding their gazes—or what I assume to be their gazes—and release a shaky breath.
“If we’re playing a game, I don’t have enough room to run.”
“We can fix that,” someone whispers. The red mask I think, but the whisper is so soft I can’t pin down who it is.
“Go through the hub,” comes another voice.
“Through our office,” a third.
“And use the door to the left of our desk.”
“What happens when I go through the door?”
The blue mask surges toward me, laying a hand around my throat and bringing the purge mask inches from my face. “You run, pretty thief. Do you remember your safe word?”
Blue is Kill tonight.
My tongue dashes out to wet my lips. “Stop.”
“Good.” He takes off my mask. “You’ll need to see,” he murmurs, smoothing a leather clad finger over my bottom lip. “You have three minutes to hide.”
“What about the others?” I ask. There was meant to be a meeting tonight.
