The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

The Pack: Rule Number 1 – No Mates

Chapter Two Hundred Ninety–Seven

ANASTACIA

Sitting next to Paul as we leave some city called Fauntleroy, I allow myself to finally relax. For the first time in two years, I actually feel free. No Draco anywhere in sight. Just acres and acres of road and trees up ahead and nothing behind us but space. I don’t sense the hounds at all. Then again, not sure if I would anyway now that I’ve found Paul.

Once he bonds me, I won’t have to fear them at all.

If… he chooses to bond me I mean…

Paul and I took a ferry across the Puget sound, something that had never even occurred to me might be an option when I was running from hounds. Had I known, had I paid more attention in geography when I was in school, I might have been able to map out my escape better. I might have lost the hounds here, had I come up this way. Then again, had I done so, I may have continued moving along toward Canada and I would never have cascaded down the mountain, been taken to the jail, and ultimately, I might never have found Paul.

Gazing over at him as he deftly maneuvers his jeep through the streets toward the highway, my eyes are drawn to the barely concealed strength of his fingers as they glide over the steering wheel. For a moment, I allow myself to remember the way they felt in the diner. The shock of having them caress me so intimately in such a public and open space only added to the ecstasy they brought me.

It only took seconds.

Thirty, maybe thirty–five.

I’ve never come so quickly. Never. Not even when I took care of it myself.

“How long before we’re in Seattle?” I ask, my eyes traipsing over the front of his pants as the craziest idea forms in my mind.

• “Fifteen minutes give or take,” he says, his blue eyes scanning the streets ahead of us.

“Hmm,” I murmur, turning my gaze so that my attention appears to be focused on what is ahead of us instead of what lies between his legs.

As stealthily as possible, I slide my palm toward his seat, my blood pumping loudly in my ears and my heart suddenly rioting in my chest.

I want to touch him the way he touched me.

But what if he gets upset with me?

he is driving.

he touched you, just trying to enjoy your meal, like a normal person would be

care? No he did

you were

more than

it. Do it. Do it.

on and lay my hand over the front of his semi–erect shaft and gasp when it immediately swells behind my palm, rising to the

‘Anastacia!”

1/3

Hundred

at him, just smile. Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I ignore the blazing fire of his gaze that I suddenly feel sear along the side of my face as I continue to caress him. In the corner of my vision I see him panic for second, as if he doesn’t know what he should do. But beneath my palm, his dick pulses and hardens, becoming thicker and thicker until I finally attempt

Fuck. He’s thick,

skinny like Draco was.

what have

blessed me with?

head in his direction. The mind–blowing reality that he may not even fit inside of me when the time comes. And it will come. And when it does, so the fuck

of me that that thing won’t be able to reach

hiss before I can stop

him wriggling in his seat, eyes heavy, knuckles white along the steering

his hips upward with a

for him to begin

into the far right lane. “I have to stop. I have to… But I want you to put that fucking hand inside of my pants. Right

I’ll stop touching you. You are going to keep driving and I am going to do whatever it is that I am going

hand to lower his sweats

the whole of him bounces forth and practically taps the steering

a blow job before. Never thought I’d even want to. But just now, staring at him, at this… I’m

my knees up under me. The jeep is spacious and the windows are black enough that no one should be able to see what I’m doing, but still

I don’t do it right?