by J. L. Wilder
“Mmm, not really. These babies sure are a pain.”
“You’re almost done.” She felt Weston curl his body around hers, his hand coming to rest on her breast. “You’ve done such a good job. You’re amazing to me.”
He was hard against her. It never failed to surprise her how attracted he was to her in her pregnant state. It wasn’t that Charity felt unattractive—far from it. She loved her body now. She loved how useful and purposeful she felt. But she didn’t feel sexy, exactly.
At least, she didn’t until Weston looked at her. He had a way of making her feel like the sexiest woman alive, just by looking at her. Now he let out a little moan against the back of her neck and pressed himself up against her, and she was flooded with heat and passion. “God, you’re killing me,” she whispered.
“The door’s locked.”
“And I’m not wearing anything under this nightgown.”
His hand found its way down below her hem. “Jesus, you’re not. I want you, Charity.”
She wanted him too. Not feeling sexy lately hadn’t inhibited her at all—she felt hungrier for his body than she ever had. Even when he wasn’t in the room with her, she was uncomfortable, dissatisfied. The farther along her pregnancy progressed, the more her body seemed to cry out for her mate.
She had expected the opposite. After all, what an omega’s body craved most of all was to become pregnant in the first place, wasn’t it? Once Charity had become pregnant, shouldn’t her sex drive have subsided a bit?
But that wasn’t what had happened at all. She craved it more than ever.
Weston positioned himself carefully behind her and entered her slowly, his body cradling hers. The sensation of fullness was a welcome relief, and Charity let out a soft cry of ecstasy as he settled himself. They lay still for a moment, and Charity relished the feeling of having her mate inside her. Nothing in the world could compare to this.
“I wish we could just stay like this,” she whispered, her voice ragged with want. “I wish we could be together like this all the time. I wish you never had to leave me.”
“I’ll always come back to you.” He cupped her breast and squeezed, so, so tenderly, then massaged her nipple gently with his thumb.
That was all it took. She was coming, desperately, gratefully, her hands fisted in the sheets. She arched her back and tried to take him deeper.
“God,” he whispered. “Your body’s so sensitive. It’s so fucking hot, Charity.” She felt him throb inside her and shivered with pleasure. He still hadn’t moved. He still just held her in place against him, waiting, tormenting her.
He slid his hand to her other breast, squeezed briefly, and then slid his fingers over her stomach, exploring the expanse of skin there. “So big,” he marveled. He was honoring her, Charity knew. She could sense his awe of her body and what it was capable of. She closed her eyes and basked in his praise.
He moved his hand down to her thigh, fingers skating down the length of it and then slowly back up to the top. His thumb circled her hipbone, then journeyed inward.
Charity gasped with pleasure and longing.
His fingers landed between her legs and pressed up firmly against her, and immediately she was coming again, clenching around him so hard she thought she must be hurting him, grinding forward into the warm weight of his hand. “That’s right,” he whispered in her ear as she bucked against his fingers. “Take what you need, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got as much as you want.”
She gasped as her orgasm began to subside, and then Weston did something with his fingers—a sort of soft pinch and stroke, and a flick of his thumb—and she came again, even harder, sobbing with effort and ecstasy.
“We can do this all day,” Weston said, and for the first time he withdrew from her body—just slightly—and thrust back in. “We don’t have anywhere to be. We can just lie here, and I can fuck you senseless. How does that sound?”
Charity thought she might already have taken leave of her senses. She couldn’t even pull it together enough to answer him. She lay gasping, feeling somehow both utterly spent and impossibly aroused. Every inch of her skin was alive to Weston’s touch.
He kissed her shoulder blade, then made his way to her neck, to the place where he’d bitten her and marked her. He licked this spot gently, tasting her, and then suckled at it. Charity moaned.
Now his hips began to move. His pace was slow, his rhythm steady, driving Charity progressively wilder. She wanted more. She wanted to cry out to him—faster, harder, deeper—but she knew he would take care of her. Weston would see that she got what she needed, and he wouldn’t leave her bed until she felt satisfied.
And he didn’t. He stayed with her for hours, increasing his pace, slowing down, delaying his own orgasm, until Charity was nothing but putty in his hands. Only then did he fuck her in earnest, bringing her to one final, intense orgasm that had them both shaking and screaming out each other’s names.
“DO YOU THINK YOU COULD come downstairs for dinner?” Lita asked. She was seated on the end of Charity’s bed flicking through a magazine.
“She’s supposed to be on bed rest,” Weston said, looking up from the desk where he’d been working on a sketch of the field by the railroad tracks where their babies had been conceived. Charity had asked him to draw it, to liven up the room a bit, and she had already picked out a spot on the wall for it to hang.
“I know,” Lita said. “But we haven’t had a family dinner in ages. Norma’s making a ham. And anyway, she doesn’t have to get up, Weston. You can just carry her down the stairs.”
“I can’t, actually.” It was a source of frustration for Weston, Charity knew. He could still lift her, but her new shape was too awkward for him to carry her any significant distance.
“I can walk,” Charity said. “I’d like to come to family dinner.”
“You’re supposed to stay in bed,” Weston argued.
“I’m only supposed to do that because you told me to,” she said. “It’s not like it’s doctor’s orders.”
“But I’m the alpha.”
“Yeah, and as the alpha, you could change the order.” She gave him her winningest smile.
“I don’t know about this, Charity.”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “It’ll be fine. You know this is what my body was made for—carrying a litter. Just because I’m the size of a house doesn’t mean I’m not capable of sitting at the table for an hour with my family.”
He frowned. “If you start feeling bad at all—in the slightest—I want you to tell me right away. Understand?”
She nodded. “I promise. Does that mean you’re going to let me do it?”
“It means I’m thinking about it.”
Lita jumped to her feet. “I’ll go tell Norma to set an extra place at the table!” She ran off.
“If I didn’t know better,” Weston said, eyeing Charity, “I’d say you two planned that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said airily.
“You did, didn’t you? Admit it.”
“All right, fine,” Charity said. “It was my idea in the first place. It’s been forever since I’ve had dinner with everyone, and they don’t come up and visit as often as I’d like. I understand why, don’t get me wrong. I know everyone’s busy with work and chores and setting up the nursery, and sitting up here with me is boring—”
“Sitting with you isn’t boring!” Weston sounded scandalized.
She laughed. “For you, it isn’t. For the others...they sit up here for five or ten minutes and then they’re coming up with excuses, reasons to leave.”
Weston scowled. “I’ll talk to them.”
“Don’t do that, come on. They’re allowed to do other things. I don’t want them hanging out up here because their alpha ordered them to. That would be awkward. I just...it would be nice to be able to go to them once in a while.”
“Dinner, huh?”
“And that ham sounds amazing. You know how much I love
Norma’s baked ham.”
“All right, all right,” Weston said. “You’ve convinced me.” He sighed. “What good is being an alpha when your mate is the most persuasive woman in the pack, I ask you?”
“I’m not so persuasive.”
“I’m just vulnerable to your charms.” He came over to the bed, sat beside her, and leaned down to kiss her. “Let’s get you up. Do you need to change?”
“Do you think Norma would mind if I came down in my flannels?”
“Are you kidding? You could show up in a burlap sack and she wouldn’t mind. She’s just going to be thrilled that you came down at all.” He wrapped an arm around her and levered her slowly up to her feet. “How’s that? Any pain?”
“No, I’m fine. Just a little off balance. As long as we take it slow on the stairs, I should be good.”
They made it down the stairs and into the kitchen without incident, but as soon as the others saw Charity in the doorway, a roar of delight went up. Several members of the pack jumped to their feet to help Weston escort her to her seat and get her settled in.
“How’s that?” Gino asked. “Are you comfortable?”
“Get her a back pillow,” Norma suggested.
“I’m fine, honestly,” Charity said, but Rick had already taken off running toward the den. He reappeared a few moments later, pillow in hand. Half exasperated and half touched, Charity leaned forward and allowed him to adjust it behind her lower back.
“Can you even reach the table?” Robbie asked.
Norma swatted him on the back of the head. “Don’t be rude, Robbie.”
“The ham smells amazing, Norma,” Charity said, closing her eyes and enjoying the scent.”
“Coming through.” Norma, ham platter in hand, made her way to the table. She settled the dish in the center, right in front of Charity. “Ladies first,” she said. “Weston, serve the girls, will you?”
Weston nodded. He deferred to Norma’s orders, Charity knew, not because he had to but as a sign of respect. The fact that he was her alpha made it even more deferential that he chose to obey her. He honored her every time he did it.
He carved thick slices of ham and passed them to Charity and Lita, then began to serve the others at the table. “How was work today, Robbie?” he asked.
“Stingy tippers,” Robbie said. “But Melissa came in again.”
“Is that the girl you’re dating?” Charity asked. “Weston told me about her.”
“I don’t know if we’re dating, exactly.” Robbie blushed. “She’s not like us.”
“Yeah, you can’t date a human,” Gino said, reaching across the table for the mashed potatoes. Norma slapped his hand gently, then passed him the dish.
“That’s not true,” Charity said. “You can date a human if you want to, Robbie.” She glanced at Weston. “Every couple has obstacles in their way. If you like her enough, and if she likes you, the two of you can find a way to overcome them.”
“You think so?” Robbie smiled
She answered his smile with one of her own. “Definitely,” she said. “Any girl would be lucky to have you.”
The conversation moved on to a security system Rick had been hired to install at a nearby mansion. He detailed the elaborate property and the many precautions the owners were taking to protect it. Charity listened in amazement to his descriptions, wondering what it would be like to own a home of that size. She imagined it would be very lonely. Even the apartment she’d lived in during her human years had been too spacious. The cabin where she lived with her Hell’s Wolves brothers and sisters was perfect. She loved sharing spaces, crawling over each other, bunching up on the couch to watch TV at night.
It was honestly part of what had made these last few months of her pregnancy so difficult. She had been isolated, away from the rest of the family. Now she closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the familiar noise—their voices crashing over each other, the skin on skin as they bumped elbows reaching for their favorite dishes.
A mild, cramping sort of pain announced itself in her lower abdomen, but Charity tried not to flinch or complain. The last few weeks had featured several pains like this—part of late-stage pregnancy, she knew—but if Weston knew about it, he would panic. She was glad he hadn’t given her an order to update him on how she was feeling. Weston was conscientious about not giving orders when he didn’t need to—he hated taking choice and free will away from his packmates.
The pain passed and she looked up. Weston was watching her carefully. Had her face betrayed something? She said nothing, and neither did he, and after a moment he let his attention turn to something Gino was saying.
The pain struck again. It was sharper this time, and Charity doubled over and cried out softly.
“Charity.” Weston was on his feet immediately. “What is it? What’s wrong? Do you need to lie down?”
“No—I don’t know—something hurts.”
“She’s in labor,” Norma said.
“What?” Charity’s eyes flew open. “It’s a week early.”
“That happens all the time, honey. Those babies are ready now.”
Hands lifted Charity under the elbows and eased her down onto the floor. The pillow that had been behind her back was placed beneath her head.
Weston knelt beside her. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “We can do this.”
She looked into his eyes, overwhelmed with love and trust, and knew that he was right.
Chapter Twenty
CHARITY
The labor was easier than Charity had anticipated, just as the rest of the pregnancy had been. She had been quickly delivered of eight pups. They had all been cleaned and swaddled, and now they lay beside her on the bed.
She was in awe of them. They were so beautiful. Three boys and five girls. A whole new litter. A whole new start for their family.
When her labor was over, when the babies had been born, Weston had carried her carefully up the stairs, pausing every few steps to kiss her. That journey was a haze for Charity. She had been swimming in adrenaline from the pain of the past few hours and endorphins that had accompanied the realization that her children were finally here.
She had wanted to hold them, all of them, right away.
“You can barely keep your eyes open,” Weston had said softly, kneeling beside her and stroking the hair out of her eyes. “Rest for a minute.”
“But aren’t they hungry? Don’t they need to be fed?”
“Rest. They’re still being cleaned up. I’ll bring them to you when they’re ready, I promise. You won’t miss anything.”
Charity had wanted to protest, but it had been an order. And she was so exhausted...She’d closed her eyes and slipped away into the welcoming darkness.
Now she opened her eyes and thought, I’m a mother.
Of all the ways she had ever redefined her identity, this one seemed the most significant.
When she was seventeen years old, she had discovered she was an omega, and that discovery had prompted her to run away from home and the only family she’d ever known. More significantly than that, even, it had caused her to run away from the love of her life.
When she had returned to the Hell’s Wolves, she had discovered that she was meant to be mated to the true alpha of the pack. She was meant to belong to Weston. That discovery had changed the way she thought about her nature as an omega. She was pleased to belong to him in such a fundamental way.
But now she was a mother. And because of it, her life was no longer just about herself, just about what she wanted and needed. Now she was living for the eight tiny infants beside her.
“You’re awake.”
She looked up. Weston was standing over her. “When did you come in?” she asked him.
“I’ve been here the whole time.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“You were staring at the babies.” He smiled. “Not that I blame you. I’ve been staring at them too. Ready to try feeding them?”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Only about an hour.”
“They must be so hungry.”
“They’ve had a pretty busy first hour of life.” One of the infants was slightly red in the face, squirming and fussing. “He looks a little upset,” Weston said, picking him up. “Should we start here?”
Charity accepted the baby and held him close. He seemed to know what to do instinctively, latching onto her engorged nipple like a professional. He suckled for a moment, and just as Charity began to worry that nothing would happen, she felt the flow of her milk begin. She smiled up at Weston, feeling a strange surge of pride. “It’s working.”
He sat down on the bed beside her, wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and cupped their son’s head with the other hand. “Think we could get two going at once?”
“We should probably try,” Charity agreed with a little laugh. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to feeding them that way, so that nobody has to wait longer than necessary.”
Weston helped to settle another one of the babies—a little girl this time—in Charity’s left arm. To help her balance the two of them, he arranged a pair of pillows on her lap. “How’s that?”
The baby girl was fumbling around, trying to find Charity’s nipple, her mouth opening and closing adorably. “Poor thing,” Charity said. “Help her, will you?”
Weston slid a hand beneath his daughter’s head and guided her to the right spot. “There you go,” he said as she latched on and began to suck in earnest. “Not as quick as your brother.”
“Don’t you give her a hard time,” Charity mock scolded him. “She’s doing a great job, aren’t you, baby?”
Weston chuckled. “She needs a name,” he said. “We can’t just call her baby.”
“I know,” Charity sighed. “I can’t even think about names right now, though. It’s such a big decision, and they’re so new. Can’t we wait until we know them a little better?”
“Don’t worry,” Weston said. “Robbie came up with an idea, actually.” He held up the baby he was currently rocking and showed her wrist to Charity. There was a tiny piece of pink string tied around the chubby appendage. “We’ve got different colors on each one so that we can tell them apart,” he said. “We can refer to them by their color until we pick the perfect names. That way you won’t feel like you have to rush it.”
