Page 166 of Specter Bred

I pinched her little clit hard enough to pull a sharp cry from her.

“Be a good little alpha and you’ll get rewarded.” I held her gaze. “Beg me.”

“Fuck you.” She sucked in a ragged breath, glaring at me.

I pinched her sensitive bud again, harder this time.

“Ugh—fuck. Fine. Fine! Please, sir.”

I hummed, unimpressed. “Not quite sweet enough, Teacup. Try again.” I leaned closer. “And use my name.”

Her eyes rolled and her teeth gritted while staring me down, every ounce of Maeve Archer’s stubborn pride fighting the words I wanted from her. Then, slowly, her lips parted.

“Please, Nolan.”

Fuck.

For one brief second, it didn’t sound like begging at all. It sounded almost like a prayer, quiet and intimate enough to hit me somewhere far deeper than I’d intended.

Then that wicked little smile returned.

“You fucking asshole,” she added.

A laugh rumbled out of my chest. There was my Teacup.

“Still needs work,” I murmured. “But it’s an improvement over last time.”

The door handle turned, interrupting us.

We both looked back just as Sammy wandered into the room, halfway through a sandwich and completely oblivious to what he’d walked in on.

At least until he looked up and froze.

His eyes widened, the sandwich slipped straight from his hand, as turkey, lettuce, and tomato scattered across the floor. Color climbed from his neck to the tips of his ears as his attention immediately dropped to the mess at his feet.

“Fuck. Uh—sorry.”

Maeve laughed. “Yeah, he does that. Gets all shy and gentlemanly when he’s caught off guard.”

“I was not prepared,” Sammy muttered, still studying the floor with sudden, intense interest.

“Huh.” I looked him over, amused. “Get over here, Farm Boy. You’re right on time. I need your help.”

His eyes finally lifted to mine.

“Yes, sir.” Sammy hurried toward us, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to follow my order.

“Wait!” Maeve cried.

He stopped dead.

She stared at him like he’d overlooked the most obvious fucking detail in the world. “Take off your clothes first.”

“Oh.” Sammy glanced down at himself. “Right.”

As Sammy undressed, Maeve and I shifted apart to make room for him, though my attention stayed fixed on the two of them. Anticipation wound tighter with every second, especially when Farm Boy looked to me for his next instruction without a hint of hesitation.

“Lie down,” I ordered, indicating the space beside us. “Face up. This side.”