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He slams in deep and holds, cock pulsing as hot, thick ropes flood my throat. I greedily gulp around him, spilling some out the corners of my mouth, which drips to my chin down to the soil.

The taste of my mate—salt and spice—rips my own orgasm out of me. I come hard, striping the dirt and the broad leaves of the pumpkin.

Will stays buried in me while both of us finish, breathing like he ran a mile, then slowly relaxes. His cock slips free, shiny and spent.

Will drops to his knees in front of me. His forehead finds mine, and he kisses me lightly, tasting himself on my lips.

"I'm sorry. Was that too much? Was that—"

I stop him with another light kiss, wrapping my arms around him.

"That was perfect."

Willoughby

Randy and I spend the rest of the afternoon clearing more wreckage from the garden. Every few minutes, I find myself reaching for him. Our arms brush. Our fingers meet. I’m excited that Randy seems just as incapable of keeping his hands off me.

Before the mating bond, I couldn’t have imagined how it would improve my life. But the more I get to know Randy, the more he proves he can listen, care, and change, the more irresistible he becomes.

Attraction pulses at my core.

A horse-drawn cart pulls up on the lane outside our stone wall. Conall is driving with Ivy in the passenger seat. I glance between them to Randy in confusion, but wave as I head over.

"Hey, what brings you guys out here?" I ask.

Ivy looks from me to Randy and hesitates.

"I asked her," Randy admits a little sheepishly. "I had an idea for the pumpkin."

I tilt my head. "What kind of idea?"

"An electric one." Ivy smirks and lifts a large black box with shiny panels on the sides from the back of the cart. Beside it is a bundle of red and black wires with clamps at the ends.

The pumpkin looks ridiculous but well guarded.

I almost have a heart attack when Conall and Randy lift it to slide a large plywood board underneath. It'll keep any animals or insects from burrowing up through the ground to get at the pumpkin. I'm not worried they'll drop the pumpkin, but I'm nearly hyperventilating at the thought that they'll crack or split the vine, effectively killing it.

They don't, and Randy has to rub my back and breathe with me until I calm from my near panic.

Next, they set up rods and wires that go around the pumpkin like a miniature fence. They attach it to Ivy's black box, which turns out to be a solar-rechargeable battery. Apparently, the small fence will zap any critters that try to get close to eat our pumpkin.

When they switch it on, I hear an odd humming sound.

"Zap?" My fingers twist together. "Zap how hard?"

"Hard enough for them not to hurt the pumpkin," Randy says roughly, but he’s focused on my back, where I'm sure he's picturing the bruise hidden beneath my shirt.

My heart flutters. I didn’t expect Randy's protectiveness, but I can't help basking in it.

"It's not their fault. They just want to eat," I point out, the back of my hand grazing his.

Every time we touch, it feels like sparks fly.

"It’s only enough to warn them off. They won't be fried or truly harmed." Conall comes up behind Ivy, wrapping his green arms around her middle as his lips find a spot along her jaw.

Her eyes flutter closed, enjoying his obvious affection.

My eyes glance to Randy; his are already on mine. Arousal pools low in my belly as I remember what we did earlier right beside this pumpkin. His smoky expression tells me Randy is also reminiscing.