Desired by the Pack: Part One: A BBW Paranormal Romance
anything to add to their plans, her voice had fled again.
    Cross twisted the top off the oil tub. The plastic clattered on the counter as he tossed it aside. Mouth dry, she watched him scoop out a generous portion of the half-solid lubricant, which melted on his fingers. Prince used the oil on his braids. Cross’s intent was much more inventive. Sweet, fragrant coconut filled the air as he slicked the oil down his impressive cock.
    It looked even bigger with the oil glistening in the light.
    “Table’s not going to work.” Beck pulled a chair out and put it in front of her. “Kneel, facing me.”
    If both men weren’t already naked, she would have been complaining about the delay. Her inner thighs were sticky with her juices and her clit throbbed, begging for another orgasm.
    She slid off the table and knelt on the chair. Beck loomed over her but only for a moment. As she gripped the chair’s back for balance, he crouched down in front of her and palmed her hips. His thumbs parted her folds, exposing her most intimate flesh to his view.
    The floor creaked as Cross closed in behind her. His oiled hands coasted over her shoulders and down her back, kneading a southerly path that made her tense.
    His fingertip traced a line down the crease of her cheeks. “Are you going to let me in here, beautiful girl?”
    “She will.” Beck bowed his head. An instant later, his tongue connected with her clit, firm and attentive, rolling the bud between his lips.
    A high keen of need rose from her throat. Her head fell back and she parted her knees as far as she dared on the narrow surface of the chair.
    Thick fingers slid between her legs from behind and circled her entrance. The muscles there squeezed hard but Cross avoided her attempt to pull him into her body. He pulled her wetness back along her perineum, up between her cheeks, and pulsed his fingertip against her anus.
    She forgot how to breathe until Beck picked up where Cross had left off and traced through her folds, driving her mad as he drew circles around her entrance before finally slipping one digit into her clamping heat.
    “So wet and tight,” he murmured, approval thick in his tone.
    She threaded her free hand through Beck’s hair and held his mouth in place, gasping as he started to stroke inside her. Cross circled her rear opening, withdrew, then returned with a smoother, more slippery touch.
    “Breathe,” Cross rumbled.
    She did, a shallow inhale, a quick breath out, and his thumb popped into her pucker. Her nipples beaded instantly, contracting to rigid points. For a greedy moment, she was disappointed Beck and Cross were only two instead of three. Hot, wet suction at her breasts would have completed a perfect, blissful triangle of pleasure.
    No, that was wrong. Only one thing would complete this. Pulling on Beck’s hair, she said, “I want you inside me.”
    For all his threats to make her beg, Beck reacted instantly to her words. He and Cross helped her off the chair. The three of them sank to the faded, slanted floor. Foil crinkled as both men adhered to her wishes and sheathed themselves. Beck pulled her across his lap, then astride his hips.
    Cross slid into place behind her, and he took over directing again, one hand between her shoulders to push her forward into Beck. His free hand found her hip, guided her back to meet the weight of his arousal. Beck took her mouth and bucked up into her in the same motion. He banded his arms around her waist, took her down another level, and then nothing separated them.
    Just this once, she allowed herself to have what she wanted. The taste of his tongue in her mouth, the satisfying burn of his big body stretching hers. Skin on skin and playing pretend, like it meant something when their marks aligned.
    Cross was a dark pressure at her back, pleasure and pain different from what Beck made her feel, but no less powerful for the difference. Her world became friction and fullness, petting hands, seeking mouths. They

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