Page 14 of Nursing the Alpha

SETH

T he office was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the muted click of a clock on the wall. Sunlight slanted through half-open blinds, pooling in stripes across my desk, where I sat idly flipping my pen between my fingers.

The last client had left fifteen minutes ago, an executive nervous about installing security cameras in his vacation home without “compromising the aesthetic.” I’d given him my recommendations, billed him, and sent him on his way. Now I had two hours to kill before my next appointment.

Two hours felt like forever.

Unless I was with Flynn. Then it was never enough time.

I set the pen down and unlocked my phone. The screen flared to life, and there he was.

Flynn.

The photo I’d snapped yesterday still made my chest ache in the best possible way.

He hadn’t known I was taking it. He’d been perched cross-legged on the sofa, hair damp from the shower, wearing an old T-shirt that hung loose enough to flash the pale curve of his shoulder.

He’d been focused intently on the paperback cradled in his lap.

The cover was some lurid alien romance, a hot pink planet with suggestively arranged tentacles.

And his expression.

God.

His face was etched in soft concentration, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth, his bottom lip faintly pink from chewing on it. The tiniest crease bridged his brows like the fictional alien prince’s mating ritual was serious business.

Adorable didn’t begin to cover it.

I lovingly touched the screen.

I couldn’t wait to see him later.

Dinner at the new little bistro downtown. A table in the corner already reserved. I’d even requested their best wine, though Flynn claimed he couldn’t tell the difference between a merlot and a malbec.

He’d looked so shy when we said good-bye yesterday. T-shirt wrinkled, cheeks flushed, lips kissed raw. Like he’d only just realized how deeply tangled up we were becoming.

Good.

I wanted him tangled. Tied so tight he couldn’t pull away, even if he tried.

I’d gotten one last taste of his milk standing right there in the doorway. It wasn’t enough.

The phone vibrated in my hand, cutting through the haze. An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen.

I answered. “Seth Moreau.”

“Mr. Moreau. Good afternoon. This is Walter from the Nourish Collective.”

The name tugged at my memory, though my mind was still half-full of Flynn .

“I’m calling about your contracted omega,” Walter said, voice brisk and professional.

“Flynn Peterson has requested to terminate his employment effective immediately. I’m sure you understand that per his contract, he’s required to give a two-week notice period.

If you’d like, we can pursue legal action to enforce that clause. ”

He’d actually done it.

“No need for legal action,” I said, calm but firm.

There was a pause on the other end. Walter was clearly caught off guard.

“Ah… well, that’s very generous of you, Mr. Moreau.

If you’d like, I can begin sourcing another omega to fulfill the remainder of your contract.

I understand you were very satisfied with Flynn’s services, so we can ensure the replacement matches his production profile as closely as possible. ”

Matches his production profile.

Like Flynn was a set of numbers on a chart. A commodity.

I stared out the window, jaw tight. My reflection in the glass was calm as ever, but inside the old familiar heat stirred—territorial, certain, unflinching.

“I won’t be needing a replacement,” I said flatly.

“Sir?” Walter’s voice flickered with polite confusion.

“I already found my omega.”

And he wasn’t theirs anymore.

Another awkward silence. “Understood, Mr. Moreau. We’ll process the termination paperwork immediately. Thank you for your business.”

The line clicked dead.

I set the phone down and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, drumming my fingers lightly against the armrests.

This was good. If Flynn resigned, we could put him hiring out his pecs behind us. He would never have to know about my deception. But how could he not? Eventually, I would have to take him home with me.

I have to sell the house.

If Flynn found out that I’d watched him nurse, and worse, drank from him without his permission, I would lose him.

I could be fined millions if he reported me to the authorities.

Omegas had few rights, but they would make me pay a fortune in restitution for my actions. I didn’t mind losing the money.

But I sure as hell would mind losing Flynn.

A knock at the door broke through the hum of my thoughts.

I glanced up, irritation flickering briefly, but I schooled it away. “Yes?”

The door cracked open, and Robbie, my secretary, poked his head in. The sharp line of his jaw was tight, his scent faintly bitter with annoyance. “Mr. Moreau,” he said crisply, “there’s… someone here to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Someone?”

“An omega. Says his name is Flynn.” Robbie wrinkled his nose ever so slightly, as if the name itself offended him. “Do you want me to send him away?”

My chest tightened. Flynn. Here?

“No,” I said firmly. “Send him in.”

Robbie hesitated for half a beat, pressing his lips into a thin line. Then he nodded and disappeared, leaving the door ajar.

I rose to my feet, smoothing a hand over the front of my shirt as a low current of excitement threaded through me. Flynn hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. Something had to have happened.

Was he okay ?

The moment the thought landed, the scuff of sneakers in the hall grew louder. Then he was there, filling the doorway, soft and bright and completely out of place in my austere office.

And god, he looked good.

He was wearing a pale green lightweight sweater that clung delicately to the roundness of his chest, dark jeans that hugged his thighs, and a small, shy smile that hit me harder than a fist. His curls were a little mussed, like he’d run his fingers through them on the way over.

But beneath it all…

His scent.

Thick. Sweet. Creamy.

My mouth went dry.

“I have good news.” He stepped inside. “I did it.”

I furrowed my brow. “Did what?”

“I resigned.” He beamed, his eyes bright. “I’m done, Seth. No more pumping for strangers. No more sore nipples or awkward contracts or weird NDAs.”

“That’s amazing, baby.” I crossed the room in three long strides. “You did it. Good job.”

His grin widened as he let me pull him in. I walked us back to my chair and sat. He settled himself properly on my lap like he belonged there.

“God, I’m so proud of you,” I murmured, wrapping my arms tight around his waist.

He laughed softly, curling against me like he couldn’t help it. “I thought you might be. I wanted to tell you in person.”

But even as I kissed his temple, the warmth of him heavy against my chest, I couldn’t ignore the way my cock stirred under his weight.

He smelled… intoxicating .

Flynn shifted on my lap.

“You’re turned on?” he asked, incredulous but smiling. “Now?”

I tightened my hands on his hips. “I can smell you,” I said hoarsely, burying my face between his pecs. The scent was stronger here, richer, the faint sweetness of milk practically rolling off his skin. “So fucking sweet. It’s driving me insane.”

Flynn’s breath hitched.

“Seth…”

“Remove your sweater for me,” I murmured against his chest.

He jerked his head toward the door, biting his lip. “What if someone comes in?”

“They won’t.” I looked up at him. “Go on. Show me how swollen you are.”

Flynn’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he tugged the sweater over his head with trembling fingers. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

My breath caught.

His pecs were full—round and flushed—nipples tight and glistening where milk beaded at the tips. The sight hit me low in my gut, and my cock throbbed beneath him, pressing urgently against my zipper.

“This…” His voice was soft, almost shy. “This is another reason I came. I-I need you, Seth. Need you to drink from me.”

Fuck.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” I growled, cupping one heavy pec in my palm, feeling the warmth and the weight and the faint shiver that went through him at my touch.

Then my mouth was on him .

I closed my lips around his nipple, sucking gently at first, then deeper, flicking my tongue against the sensitive bud. The first rush of milk filled my mouth, warm and rich, and I groaned low in my throat, gripping his hips to keep him steady as he gasped softly above me.

The scent, the taste, the feel of him…

It was too much.

And yet not enough.