Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
My cheeks flame so hot I swear they’re catching fire. Knotting. Dilators. Asking Logan to use them on me? Oh God, this is mortifying.
But what can I say? I nod numbly and take the box, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.
Logan doesn’t even flinch. His only concern is me. His steady gaze is on my face, not my body.
“Will she be all right?” he rumbles. “I’m really worried about her.”
“You don’t need to worry—Poppy will be just fine,” Dr. Elizabeth reassures us both. “The baby’s healthy and her cravings are normal. Nothing too unusual here. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
I mumble a thank you and we leave a few minutes later. But even as I walk out clutching the box of dilators, my mind spins.
I really do feel the need to be filled…all the time. So maybe the dilators can help. I can use them when I’m alone—I won’t beg Logan to help me. And as for him sucking out my milk every night—he’s not really going to do that.
Is he?
27
POPPY
When we get home, Logan doesn’t let me scurry off to my room the way I want to. Instead, he leads me straight to the couch and sits me down gently. His big frame looms over me, steady and immovable.
“Open your blouse, kitten.”
My face floods with heat. I clutch the buttons with trembling fingers.
“You’re not really going to do that, are you? I mean…don’t you think it’s gross?”
His brows draw down in a frown, his pale eyes steady and serious.
“Sweetheart, nothing about you is gross. You’re beautiful to me—every part of you. And I don’t mind doing this for you. Besides…”His voice dips to a soft growl. “It’s the doctor’s orders.”
I swallow hard, my whole body shaking with nerves. Still, I start working the buttons open one by one. My breasts feel so full they’re straining against the bra cups already. When I finally unclasp the bra, the straps slip from my shoulders and my breasts spill free, heavy and aching.
Logan kneels between my knees, his big hands warm and steady as he cups me. With me sitting and him kneeling, his mouth is right on the level with my chest. He looks up at me once, making sure I’m still okay.
“Go on,” I whisper, blushing furiously. “I… I can’t stand the ache anymore.”
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now scoot forward for me.”
I slide forward to the edge of the couch cushion and gasp as he leans in. His mouth closes over one aching nipple, hot and wet, and he starts to suck.
“Ohhh,” I breathe, clutching at his broad shoulders. The relief is immediate—like pressure being drained out of me. But it’s not just relief. The deep, pulling suction sends lightning straight between my thighs.
“Logan…” My voice breaks as I arch my back. He’s careful, gentler than I expected, but each tug of his mouth makes my nipples throb harder. I can feel milk releasing, feel him swallowing, and the intimacy of it makes my entire body clench with need.
I’m wet. God, I’m so wet. The hungry sensation Dr. Elizabeth described—needing to be filled, stretched—it pulses through me with every pull of his mouth. I squeeze my thighs together, desperate to relieve the ache, but it only makes the pressure worse.
“Logan,” I whisper again, half in shame, half in longing. “It feels so good. Too good…”
He growls low in his throat but doesn’t stop, his big hands kneading gently, coaxing more milk as his mouth works me. And all I can think is how much I want him—how much I want more.
28
LOGAN
Poppy squirms under my mouth, little whimpers slipping from her lips as I draw the last of the sweet, rich milk from her breasts. I lap it up, savoring the taste, but her scent is changing—ramping up, getting sharper and hotter. It fills my senses—a demand…a plea.
My cock is aching, straining against my jeans. Every nerve in my body is screaming to service her, to fill her the way an Alpha should fill his mate. My Wolf howls inside me, clawing at the walls of my chest. She’s empty. Fill her. Knot her. Breed her. Make her ours.
But I can’t.
I can’t.
I pull back just enough to look up at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes hazy with need. Her scent is flooding the room, a heady perfume of Heat and hunger.
“What’s going on, kitten?” My voice comes out rough, almost a growl. “Are you feeling hot?”
Her blush deepens. She bites her lip, then whispers, “I feel…empty inside. Like I need something, Logan. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
God. My chest aches at the honesty in her voice. She trusts me enough to confess her need, even though she’s ashamed of it.
And I don’t know what to do. I can’t knot her. I can’t break the Unbreakable Laws. But I can’t just sit here and watch her suffer either—not when every instinct I have is screaming at me to make her feel better.