Defiant Girl (The Season Book 3) by Sam Hall

Author:Sam Hall [Hall, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

I was pacing the floor in Greta’s very fine drawing room, no doubt wearing a track in the beautiful Persian rug beneath my feet, but I couldn’t sit still.

“Maybe we should go outside and wait,” I said.

Night had fallen, Jackson was coming, and whatever the hell Tris had planned was in play. The man himself was sitting back in his chair, watching me move with a predatory gaze, because everything was going exactly to plan for him.

Tris was loose, calm, and centred in a way I didn’t know if I’d ever seen in him, his fingers tracing the carved wooden arms of the chair, but his eyes were entirely trained on me. Len and James, they’d done exactly as he’d asked—stripping me naked, teasing me with their fingers, their tongues, and their lips until my slick flooded my thighs. Tris had come out rubbing a towel through his hair, staring down at me as they drove me to the very edge, then pulled away, leaving me to pant, unsatisfied, before beginning all over again.

He’d smiled then, wicked and full of mischief, but there was more there. His gaze was possessive, of all of us, all at once. We were his minions doing his work, and he was pleased by the results. Finally, the two alphas had let me up with swollen lips, reddened skin, aching nipples, and a clit that throbbed so hard, it took my breath away.

So now here I was, pacing back and forth as Greta grew more alarmed.

“Kit, sit,” Greta said in a gentle but firm tone. My butt planted itself on a beautifully upholstered chaise lounge. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, Kit, are you OK?” Tris asked in an arch tone, his shit-eating smile just widening.

“I’m fine,” I answered, without actually meaning it.

I was sure Greta had heard saucier tales than what we were up to, but I couldn’t tell her. It was pack business, and she wasn’t pack. So when she started to talk about the social events she and James had planned on us attending, I just nodded along absently. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, hear her, even though I knew that was terribly rude, my only reprieve coming in the form of a knock on the door frame.

Jacks had showered, his hair still damp and pulled back into a neat bun now. He smelled of a spicy soap, a woody cologne, and clean skin, and I fought the urge to get up and lick it. In his arms, he held a huge bouquet of flowers. Ferns and other greenery sheltered a wild spray of delicate white orchids.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said. “Sorry I took a little longer than I expected. I wanted to get just the right flowers for Kit.”

He stepped closer then, my fingers twitching, right up until he offered the bouquet to me.

“Jacks…” I hissed.

“Didn’t want to just go with carnations or roses. You’re not an everyday flower kind of girl.” He dropped down in front of me, his fingers almost brushing mine as we touched the arrangement.

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