Page 49 of Saddle and Scent
I've imagined it a thousand times over the years, but having the soundtrack makes it devastatingly real.
Her breathing changes, gets more erratic, and I know she's close. My hand speeds up, chasing my own release as I paint mental pictures of water sluicing over her skin, of her head thrown back in pleasure, of those perfect pink lips parted on my name.
"Please," I hear her whimper, barely audible over the water, and it nearly ends me right there.
In my mind, she's not alone.
I'm beside her, one hand between her legs while the other plays with her breasts. Callum's got her pressed against the wall, kissing her like he's trying to devour her, while Beckett whispers filthy praise in her ear.
She's surrounded, supported, cherished the way she always should have been.
My cock pulses in my grip, and I'm close, so fucking close. I lean harder against the wall, free hand braced for support as I work myself faster.
The fantasy shifts—now she's on her knees, those storm-gray eyes looking up at me while her mouth?—
"Fuck," I breathe, barely a whisper, as her cries reach a crescendo.
The sound of her coming apart destroys what's left of my control.
My orgasm slams into me like a sledgehammer, and I have to bite down on my fist to muffle the growl that wants to escape.
Cum paints the ground in thick spurts as my hips jerk forward, chasing every last second of pleasure.
For a moment, I just stand there, breathing hard, cock still twitching in my hand as reality slowly seeps back in.
The shower's still running, but it's quiet now except for the sound of water hitting tile.
Jesus Christ, what did I just do?
The post-orgasm clarity hits like a bucket of ice water.
I just jerked off outside Juniper's house while she was in the shower.
That's... that's crossing about seventeen different lines, and no amount of Alpha instincts can justify it.
I tuck myself back in with shaking hands, grateful for the small mercy that I managed not to get any on my clothes. The bag of pastries sits innocently by my feet, and I pick it up, trying to pretend the last ten minutes didn't happen.
Inside, I hear movement—the squeak of old pipes as the shower turns off, the shuffle of feet on wooden floors.
Time to make my presence known before this gets even more awkward.
I circle back to the front of the house, taking a moment to compose myself. My heart's still racing, and I can smell herarousal clinging to my clothes, but there's nothing to be done about that now.
The show must go on, even if that show involves me and my pack lusting over an Omega we’ve dreamed of having for years after fucking it up the first time…
I knock, three quick raps that echo in the morning quiet.
More shuffling, then the door opens to reveal Juniper in all her post-shower glory.
Her hair is damp, falling in waves around her shoulders, and her cheeks are flushed pink. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt and leggings, but might as well be naked for how my body responds to the sight of her.
"Wes?" She blinks up at me, clearly surprised. "What are you doing here?"
The flush on her cheeks deepens, and I have to fight the urge to reach out and trace it with my fingers.
"Rough night?" I ask, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile. "Or did you go for a morning run?"
Her blush goes nuclear, spreading down her neck in a way that makes me want to follow it with my mouth.
