She taps the dog’s nose. “He’s got your eyes.”
We walk off from the booth. “Mine are gray, not brown, and I’m pretty sure they don’t droop.”
She giggles. “They do when you’re sleepy.”
I snort and shift the dog under one arm. “You know I’m carrying this the rest of the night, right?”
She bumps my shoulder.“You won it.”
I bump back. “For you. But I’m a gentleman, and this thing is as big as you are.”
A spark enters her eyes. “So you could carry me under your arm like a sack of flour?”
“Keep testing me, and I just might. People seeing us be damned.”
Frankie rolls her eyes and then peers ahead of us at the large Ferris Wheel.
Reaching out, I take her hand. “C’mon, let’s go see what the view’s like from the top.”
The Ferris Wheel isn’t packed. Most of the crowd flocks to the rides that spin or drop, anything with flashing signs and screaming kids. This one pulls an older crowd, like couples and people who want quiet.
We get in line. Her hand stays tucked in mine.
It’s a short wait. Five minutes tops, but she grows more uneasy with each passing second.
Frankie shifts from foot to foot. The scent coming off her thickens. It’s still brown sugar and vanilla, but it’s wetter. More like batter and less like dough or baking cookies.
When our turn comes, I guide her into the cart and toss the stuffed dog onto the bench beside us. His head tips to one side. I keep her close as the bar locks into place with a mechanical clack.
A moment later, the ride jerks forward.
Frankie presses against the corner of the seat, arms folded tight over her chest. Her thigh skims mine, bare where the skirt rides up. She won’t look at me or the view of Heathstead in the distance. It’s clear she’s trying to control herself, but she’s slipping.
I place my hand on her knee. “You okay?”
She nods, then sighs. A dark flush rises in her cheeks.“I know I just knotted this afternoon with all of you…” Her breath catches. “But I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”
My pulse kicks. The scent coming off her isn’t hinting anymore. It’s full force. Any Alpha around will be able to tell. I have to calm her down a bit and then get her out of here as soon as we get off. We’re nearing the top of the wheel, and soon it will pause for a minute or two, like it does for everyone.
Logan is the master of fingering her. My talents lie elsewhere, but I think I can get her off in a few minutes with how horny she smells.
It’s risky, so many people around, but she needs me. I slide my hand from her knee and inch it higher.“Tell me if you want to stop.”
She doesn’t speak, but spreads her thighs wider.
I move my fingers under the band of her skirt and underwear, so that the fabric will mostly hide what I’m doing if anyoneglances this way. I don’t expose her. They don’t get to see what’s mine, even from a distance. Her crotch is soaked.
Fuck.
I bite my cheek to keep from groaning.
Her folds part around my fingers. Her slick floods out, coating everything. I stroke between them, dragging through the mess until I find her clit. It’s swollen and hard, easy to press against. I circle with my middle fingers, watching her mouth fall open as she gasps.
She shifts against the seat, trying to stay still, but her thighs twitch and flex with every slow grind of my hand.Grabbing the metal bar, she holds on for dear life.
As we reach the top and pause, I slide two fingers down and press inside her. She’s tight, hot, and fucking soaked.
I curl my fingers just right. Her breath hitches as she glances around and then turns to bite the fabric of my shirt, muffling her moan.
