Page 20 of Nursing the Alpha

SETH

A t this hour, the street was silent, except for the occasional hiss of tires on wet pavement. Five days.

Five nights of no light in the window. No glimpse of soft skin. No milk left on the mat outside his door.

Flynn had vanished behind those walls, and I was losing my mind.

I stared down at my phone again. The last text from him taunted me:

Flynn:

I’m going to bed.

That was four hours ago. Was he really sleeping?

Or was he snuggled up inside, smirking at the thought of me out here in the cold, starving for him?

My sweet little omega was proving to be not so sweet after all.

It should have turned me off. But it only made me want him more, and not just his milk. Him .

I shoved the phone back into my pocket and scrubbed a hand down my face.

I should have gone home. I should have respected his silence.

But respect was something I’d burned through a long time ago.

I was too far gone for it now.

Before I could second-guess it, I crossed the street, boots silent on wet concrete. I pressed down the cool metal handle of the lobby door and slipped inside.

Detergent and stale air greeted me, but under it all was something sweeter, something I would have known anywhere.

Flynn.

He wasn’t the only lactating omega I came in touch with, but his scent was unique. I could pick him out of a room of omegas leaking through their shirts.

I inhaled deeply, my pulse slamming in my throat, and climbed the stairs.

Each step was a drumbeat.

Each breath louder than the last.

My conscience screamed at me to turn back, to leave him in peace.

A door between us has never stopped you from getting my milk.

He’d sent that to me, knowing exactly what it would do.

He knew the kind of man I was.

And he wanted me anyway.

Didn’t he?

By the time I reached his floor, my hands were shaking. Not from fear but from the effort of holding myself together.

There was no bottle on the mat tonight. No small glass offering left for me like a lifeline .

He’d left me dry.

I clenched my jaw and ghosted my fingers over the knob of his apartment door.

Locked. Of course.

My conscience whispered one last time.

Don’t.

I ignored it.

The lock was child’s play. The click of the latch sliding free felt like a gunshot in the stillness.

I eased the door open and stepped inside.

Darkness swallowed me whole, the gentle glow of a streetlight spilling in through half-drawn curtains. The apartment was quiet.

My breath came shallow as I moved through the living room, past the couch where I’d once seen him curled up reading. I continued to his bedroom door, and my chest heaved like I’d run a mile.

I closed my hand around the knob.

This was it.

The door creaked softly as I pushed it open.

Darkness greeted me. Heavy. Close. The scent of lavender and milk hung in the air, so potent it made my knees weak.

I froze on the threshold, listening.

Soft snores drifted from the bed.

I clenched my jaw, balling my hands into fists at my sides.

He was really asleep.

Here I was—wound tight, desperate, crawling out of my skin—and he was sleeping like the world hadn’t stopped for both of us.

A surge of heat and anger coiled low in my gut. My sweet little omega wasn’t so sweet anymore. He knew what he was doing to me, starving me like this. He’d been playing me for days. His games should have turned me off. But god help me, I loved him for it.

I stepped closer, my boots silent on the carpet. He was lying on his side, the blankets bunched low around his hips. His curls were a messy halo on the pillow, his lips slightly parted.

So innocent.

So cruel.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. I hovered my hand inches from his shoulder, then let it rest there, skimming the soft cotton of his shirt with my fingertips.

“Flynn,” I murmured.

He didn’t stir.

I gave a gentle shake. “Baby… wake up.”

Nothing.

I leaned closer, the scent of him washing over me like a wave. Milk. Skin. A sweetness I could never get enough of.

Still nothing.

I caught the glow of something on the nightstand.

I bent over and flicked on the lamp.

The soft light spilled over the room. On the nightstand was a bottle of sleeping pills.

Next to it was a folded paper.

My chest squeezed as I unfolded it with shaking hands.

Day 6.

Is this the night you finally realize what I want you to do?

The words blurred as my vision tunneled, my pulse roaring in my ears.

Oh god.

My throat worked around a dry swallow. My cock throbbed painfully against my jeans .

This wasn’t just a game.

He wanted me. All of me.

The note was consent.

My little omega, sleeping here so sweetly, so trustingly, wanted me to take what I’d been starving for.

I stripped off my coat, then my shirt, my hands working clumsily in their haste. My jeans followed, the metal of the buckle clinking softly in the quiet room.

By the time I was bare, my chest heaved with ragged breaths. I climbed into bed with him and turned Flynn onto his back. His soft snores continued, unbroken even as I moved him. I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Flynn was dressed in sheer lingerie that did nothing to hide his swollen pecs.

I trailed my fingers along the lace trim, a stark contrast against his skin.

Every instinct urged me to hurry, to take what had been offered so generously, but I forced myself to slow down.

My gaze came to rest on his face, moonlit and peaceful in slumber.

Even in sleep, he was breathtakingly beautiful, my very own angel wrapped in darkness and deceit.

I tugged down the strap of his lingerie, exposing the pec that had been tormenting me for days. He moaned slightly in his sleep but didn’t wake. I traced my thumb along the swollen gland, then dipped my head and took his nipple into my mouth.

The first pull of my lips around his nipple was almost my undoing.

Warm. Sweet. I groaned low in my throat, the sound muffled against his chest, and sucked gently, testing, teasing.

The milk didn’t come at first, but his body softened under me, pliant and warm even in sleep.

The tiniest bead wet my lips, the tang of his skin and the familiar richness of his milk coating my tongue like a benediction .

God.

I nearly lost my rhythm, clutching his side to steady myself as I drew harder, flicking my tongue over the taut bud. A second drop. A third. Finally, the steady warmth I’d been craving for nearly a week.

My eyes fluttered closed as I drank him down, slow and greedy, savoring each mouthful like it was the first.

“Fuck, baby,” I whispered against his skin. “You taste like heaven. I missed this… missed you.”

Flynn sighed softly in his sleep, his head turning just enough for his breath to ghost against my hair. The sound alone made my cock twitch painfully, but I kept my focus on his chest, on coaxing more of that sweet, perfect milk from him.

I cupped the weight of his pec in my palm, stroking my thumb tenderly along the underside, and sucked deeper, greedier now. Milk dribbled down the corner of my mouth, and I licked it away with a quiet growl.

The taste had never been enough.

But it was all I had of him.

For now.

I shifted, sliding my other hand over the lace stretched tight across his ribs, tracing the delicate pattern like it was something sacred. The fabric clung to his curves, sheer and teasing, and I had to bite back another groan.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” I murmured against his skin. “Lying here like this. Leaving me dry for days. Making me break like this.”

His body twitched, but he didn’t wake.

I moved to his other pec, dragging my tongue across the swollen bud and latching on again. The first pull was a rush, his milk hotter this time, the flow steady, as though his body had been waiting for me .

My hips pressed forward involuntarily, the friction sending sparks of need through me.

My little omega.

My angel.

My ruin.

“You’re mine,” I whispered, voice hoarse. “Even when you’re cruel. Even when you’re punishing me. You’ll always be mine.”

His milk coated my tongue, dripping warm and sweet down my throat, and for the first time in days, the gnawing ache in my chest dulled.

But my hunger for him didn’t.

I nudged Flynn’s legs apart, and the scent hit me full force.

Sweet. Slick.

My cock twitched hard, leaking against the lace that barely covered him. I glided my fingers lower, and even through the thin barrier, I felt how wet he was for me.

God.

“Look at you.” I dragged my fingers along the damp seam of his lingerie. “So fucking helpless. So ready for me.”

I pressed the pad of my finger to his entrance. Slick clung to me instantly, warm and sinful.

“Can’t tell me to stop touching you,” I murmured against his chest and suckled greedily at his nipple, drawing another rush of milk to flow over my tongue. “You’re mine to play with. Mine to enjoy.”

He gave a soft, unconscious whimper. The sound sent heat spearing down my spine.

I drew back just enough to watch his chest rise and fall, his lips parted in sleep, lashes fluttering as though he felt me in his dreams.

I circled his entrance lazily with my thumb, gathering more slick and slipping the tip of my finger inside. His body accepted me easily, his heat gripping me like he’d been waiting for this—waiting for me.

“Fuck, Flynn…” My voice cracked, low and guttural. “Do you know what you do to me? Do you even understand?”

I added a second finger, working them in slow, careful thrusts as I latched back on to his pec, drawing more milk. My cock throbbed against his thigh, aching for the heat that pulsed around my fingers.

“You’ve been teasing me for days,” I growled softly. “Sitting at that window. Leaving me dry. And now this…” I curled my fingers just enough to make his body shiver. “You wanted this all along, didn’t you?”

His only answer was a soft gasp as he lifted his hips, almost seeking more.

I bit back a groan.

“Yeah, that’s it. Even asleep, your body knows who it belongs to.”

I pulled my fingers free, his slick coating them to the knuckle, and brought them to my mouth. The taste was faint but heady, and I licked them clean like a starving man.

More.

Nudging myself between his thighs, I rubbed my cock against his hole and hissed.

So hot.

So wet.

So perfect.

I pressed my forehead to his, panting like I’d run miles.

“You’re mine, Flynn.” I slipped the head of my cock inside him and gasped. “You’ve always been mine.”

Careful not to disturb his sleep, I slowly bottomed out inside him, grunting as the heat of him enveloped me like a silk glove .

I stayed buried inside him, savoring the feel of his walls clenching around me like they’d been waiting—starving—for my cock.

“Fuck, Flynn…” I whispered hoarsely, pressing a kiss to his slack mouth. “So tight, so perfect. You were made for this. Made for me fucking you unconscious.”

His soft breaths ghosted over my lips. His lashes fluttered, but he didn’t wake.

Good.

I moved.

Slow at first, grinding deep, rolling my hips so my cock dragged against his inner walls in long, languid strokes. I cupped his pec again, brushing my thumb over the swollen nipple, then pinching and tugging gently.

Milk pearled instantly.

I groaned low in my chest and squeezed harder, my other hand finding his other pec to massage the heavy gland. Milk spurted, hot and wet across my palm.

“God, look at you,” I murmured, my thrusts growing steadier, harder. “Leaking all over me. So fucking full for me, baby.”

I bent my head and caught the milk-beaded nipple between my lips, sucking greedily as I rutted into him. The sweet, rich taste hit my tongue. I could come from that alone.

His scent was everywhere now—milk and slick and something floral. It clung to my skin, seeped into my lungs, fogged my fucking mind until all I knew was Flynn.

I squeezed his pecs harder, milking him as I fucked him, his milk spilling over my fingers, dripping onto his chest, onto mine, warm and sticky.

“Such a good, slutty omega,” I growled against his skin. “ You’re giving me everything, aren’t you? Your milk. Your body. Your tight little hole for me to fuck.”

Flynn shifted under me, his brow furrowing like he was dreaming, like he felt every stroke of my cock, every greedy pull of my mouth.

“Don’t fight me.” He raised his hands as though to push me away, but I grabbed them gently and held them down above his head. “Shh, baby. It won’t be long now. That sweet fucking hole is gripping me so tight.”

I ground deeper, my hips slapping softly against his ass. His body squeezed me tight, slick making every thrust smooth and obscene even as the bed rocked gently beneath us.

“I missed you so much.” I licked a stray drop of milk from his skin. “Missed your taste, your scent… missed being inside you.”

With each squeeze of my free hand, milk sprayed from his swollen nipples, splattering across our chests. I rubbed it into his skin with my palms, groaning at how slippery and hot we were now.

“Fuck, Flynn…” I gritted out, hips jerking harder, faster. “You’re milking my cock like you need it, like you’ve been empty without me.”

My balls tightened, the heat coiling in my gut until it felt like I was about to combust.

I pressed my lips to his ear, my voice breaking on the words.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna knot you and keep you full for days. Gonna breed you so deep, put a baby in your belly so you keep making that milk for me.”

Flynn stiffened beneath me, a low whimper slipping from his throat as though his body recognized the promise, even in sleep .

“Yeah, you feel that, don’t you?” I panted. “Your hole’s so hungry for me. So fucking perfect.”

The sound of our bodies was filthy—wet, slick, milk-drunk skin slapping with each deep, pounding thrust. The scent of milk was thick enough to taste in the air.

“Mine,” I growled, snapping my hips forward in a hard, final thrust and burying myself to the hilt. “Always fucking mine.”

My knot swelled, locking us together as I came hard, spilling deep inside him with a guttural groan.

Milk continued to flow from his chest under my hands, warm and slick, mixing with sweat as I pressed my forehead to his.

Breathless. Shaking.

I stayed buried in him, holding his wrists down, while his body pulsed and fluttered around me.

“Shh… good boy,” I murmured against his lips. “You’re so good for me, Flynn. Let me feed you. Let me fill you.”

And I stayed there, drinking from him and feeding him in turn, lost in the sweet, ruinous heaven that was my omega.