Billion Dollar Pack (The Wolfverse, #3)

by Sam Hall

After you’ve had your dessert, I want mine—in my house, in my room, you spread out naked across my bed, ready for me to devour from head to toe. “Devour from head to toe, Sage,” Nikki said. “Every woman wants, at some point in her life, to be devoured from head to toe by a hot alpha. You have to do this, for yourself and for womenkind. You’ll bring back crucial knowledge about what it’s like, how it feels, and whether or not we should all toss our stupid boyfriends and husbands to one side and just go for exactly that.”

Apparently, one way or the other, I was getting devoured tonight, though hopefully not with some fava beans and a nice chianti.

I want a taste, Sage. Just a little one. You’ll give me that, won’t you? You can be a good little girl and slip your fingers under your fancy knickers and slide them through all of that slick, rubbing your little pearl back and forth.”

Every woman had a moment of vulnerability when a stranger saw them naked.

but it felt like it was different as a plus size woman. Men said they were ‘into it,’ as if your body was this…thing, not an inextricable part of you. Some fell all over themselves to make sure you knew that they were OK with your size, that need to draw attention to it setting your teeth on edge, reminding you that so many others didn’t.

I wanted to bat his hands away, stop him from touching a part of my body I basically loathed, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to, because under all the socially determined hatred of the shape of my body was me.

“What if I suffocate you?” I ground out as I felt his kisses on my inner thigh. “If I die, I fucking die, but I’m not missing out on this.”

Human beings weren’t really made for casual sex, despite what we might think. We got this rush of oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin after the event, hormonally inducing a state of closeness, of softness, and I felt squishy as hell right now.

“Beau would fuck a fur rug if it lay down for long enough,”

“Why can I hear you two carrying on like pork chops while I’m on the toilet?”

“Who’s having crazy monkey sex?” Brian asked. “Not us. Go away and think about why for a moment,”

“That opportunistic little cow.”

“She’s making noises. Are those good noises or bad noises?” Max asked. “If you don’t know, we have to have a chat,” Beau said. “You want sounds like that coming from every woman you’re with.”

I thought working for Lucien would make this all terribly awkward, but fuck, the sheer scope, the history this business had with their assistants, had my hands rubbing at my temples. But damn, if I could dickhead whisper this pack of alphas, I could walk into any boardroom, any corporate tower in the country, with a reference that could prove I could be an asset in any one of them.

“I don’t speak fuckwit,”

One of the things I loved about her was she raged through life like a meth addled T-Rex, but even I would sometimes want to curl up in a kitchen cupboard and hide from her.

feeling like I was living in some kind of glorious cocoon, I knew that this bitch had to get up and get on with the business of being a caterpillar.

looking like someone shoved a beehive up her vagina.

If you get this done, I’ll buy you a gold-fucking-plated dildo of your choice in celebration.” “Why gold-plated?” I asked as my forehead wrinkled. “Wouldn’t that be kind of uncomfortable?” “Not if it’s covering one of those fancy schmancy glass ones.” “They always freak me the fuck out. All I can think about is what if they break?” I said. “Break? Those things are made from freaking Pyrex. What the hell are you rocking downstairs there, girlie? A sarlacc pit?”

He could have asked me to walk the One Ring to Mordor right now and I was pretty sure I would’ve agreed,

for me to survive, to go out into the world, I needed to avoid the mirror—not look in it in the bathroom when I got out of the shower, glance away when I saw myself reflected in plate glass windows. Don’t look, don’t look, and then that way, I could pretend.

hear a steady stream of her opinions about what I was wearing, eating, doing rising and rising like a poisonous tide, ready to drown me in its depths. They were all I could hear, see, think about when I faced down the mirror,

Women of all sizes had insecurities about their bodies, but having a bigger body? It felt like the dating pool, the medical community, the whole damn world was there, confirming all of your worst fears and then piling more on top of them. Until you were drowning.

Even amongst plus-sized women, there seemed to be a hierarchy. You could be used in specialised fashion shoots or thirst traps if you had that flat stomached, peach arsed, thick thighed body that transformed you from plus-sized to thicc. That wasn’t me. I felt like I was an apple, swollen and round in the middle, with big tits perched on top of a gut I just didn’t want him to touch anymore.

The first time my shrink had brought up inverted egotism, I’d blinked so hard, I thought my eyes would roll around on the floor. An egotist might strut around, proclaiming to the world how awesome they were, never hearing criticism, always focussed on themselves first and others a very poor second, if that, but I wasn’t like that. I couldn’t be.

She’s so damn green, she’ll start growing leaves out of her ears in moments.”

You’re a bossy prick.” He didn’t want to smile at that, but he had to. I was charming when I wanted to be.

sometimes, the secret of a good relationship seemed to be finding someone who you liked, respected, and were attracted to, whose baggage didn’t disrupt yours too unduly.

“I love you like a sister, but I’m not licking your kitty meow meow, even if you start spanking me with a wet fish.” “No, it’s not for you, it’s for me,” I said, thinking that sufficient explanation. “You’re licking my pussy?” “No…” I turned around and fixed her with a glare.

“If barking at my husband to clean the damn bathroom is a kink, I’m the queen,”

“Yeah, slow your roll, McHotty,”

“I want everything you’ve got to give, Sage—all of it. If you want to get the fuck out of here, have a shower, and put your jammies on, I’ll snuggle around you and hold you tight while we sleep. If you need downtime, I’ll rub your back and stroke your hair until you unwind. If you’re hungry, I’ll get you food. If you just want alone time, I’ll go to fur and lie across your doorway, make sure no one tries to get in.”

“But I would spank my clit till it bleeds to the sight of his surprise Pikachu face.

“Someone made you feel ugly. I don’t know who and I don’t know how. If I find out the details, I’m not entirely sure I won’t rip their head off and shit down their neck.”

Make with the twisty twisty, key boy.”

“You want me to Marie Kondo your sex toy collection?” I turned around and shot him a disbelieving look. I turned around and picked up the nearest thing, which looked a little like a pair of small tongs, but the ends were small flat circles. “Does this give me joy? What the hell is it, anyway?”

he pressed me against the wall and went to kiss me. “Fuck…” I said, putting a hand on his chest. “Dragon breath.” “Singe with your flames, dragon lady,” he told me, right before he went in for a kiss.

A man couldn’t fix a woman. He couldn’t make her feel good about herself when she was trained to feel bad. He couldn’t take her trauma and wave his dick over it, whisking it all away. Once the first gloss of a relationship wore off and you started acting like the person you really were, it all came back, but there was something about a man, or a woman, a loved one, turning up and being present in your life. Someone who was willing to walk beside you as you did the work, because maybe, just maybe, their persistent subliminal message of love, of acceptance, of need and desire, but most of all, of respect, could provide you with a buffer from a cruel and unusual world, creating a safe harbour in which you could decide to love yourself.

“There’s a world of difference between someone who uses violence against you in anger and one who does so in controlled and agreed to conditions. One is abuse. You didn’t consent to that. You never signed up to being beaten. They decided to violate your bodily autonomy to gain power over you by force. Someone who uses impact play is given power over you, until such point as you withdraw it. They use that gift to perform a scene that is mutually satisfying for both people, and then they are careful to ensure you come down and feel safe afterwards. No one can make you feel bad without your consent.”