Page 51

First, I lit candles, then I surrounded myself in the clothes from each member of his pack, taking my time to build myself a real nest out of comfortable blankets and pillows.

I shivered with a mixture of humiliation and fucking desire, as Rhett ordered me to strip…one item of clothing at a time…

I delivered a striptease like Rhett could see me.

I touched myself as I sat in my nest, slowly and teasingly pulling off my top, skirt, and panties.

Plus, Rhett called me good Omega after I removed each item.

I whined, turned on as hell.

After Rhett’s training throughout the week, my fingers wandered over my skin, thumbing at my breasts like it was second nature.

I knew where would bring me the most pleasure.

Then he ordered me to lie down naked and take out the new suction toy.

I’d been excited to try it out, ever since it had arrived, but he strictly told me not to touch it until we could play with it together.

It wouldn’t be as fun without Rhett.

I’ve grown addicted to his deep voice. His flirtatious direction. His dominance.

It’s dangerous how much I look forward to these moments together.

Then he told me to lay the toy over my clit and turn it on.

When the rhythmic, pulsing wave tugged at my most sensitive place in puffs of air like it was Rhett’s own mouth between my legs, I moaned.

“Alpha…” My back arched.

I clawed at the nest.

I imagined the Fire Chief’s dark head working hard at my clit, as his voice continued to murmur whispered praise and encouragement through the phone at my ear.

When I came, I blacked out.

Now, I rip at the vine harder but for different reasons. Then I hurl it over my shoulder.

“My Angel did say that you like to throw things over people,” a cool, razor-sharp voice says behind me. “Unless hurling weeds at someone is a greeting at inns. Is it? I haven’t stayed in one before.”

What the hell?

Startled, I spin around.

I squint up through the sunlight, which shines around a tall Alpha who is staring down at me from unblinking gray eyes.

I freeze.

He is the most fucking beautiful man I have ever seen.

And I have just thrown weeds at him, which are hanging from the shoulder of his tan shirt, which is tucked into dark green pants.

His ice-white hair falls over alabaster cheekbones that are sharp enough to cut me. His face is classically beautiful like a statue and just as cold.

His shoulders are broad, but his waist is narrow.

I’d wonder how this model had broken into my garden only to insult me, if the gorgeous asshole didn’t smell of white carnations like a hidden greenhouse at midnight.