Page 21 of Nursing the Alpha

FLYNN

I woke to soreness.

It molded to me like a second skin. Dull, aching heat that spread from between my cheeks to the tender pull of my nipples.

The negligee I’d worn last night—sheer black, the one I’d chosen on purpose —was torn down the middle. Lace hung in tatters against my hips, sticky where dried milk and sweat clung to it.

I shifted, and the burn deep in my ass made me hiss.

God.

I didn’t need to check to know I was leaking.

But I did anyway. I swept my fingers between my thighs and came away slick, glistening with Seth’s cum.

My chest felt empty. Literally. The tight, heavy ache that usually greeted me when I woke up in the morning was gone, leaving nothing but a mild soreness and the impression of his mouth.

He’d been here.

Again.

I exhaled shakily, sinking back against the pillows. The sheets smelled of him—cedar and spice and a hint of milk, like he’d pressed his face into my chest and drunk me dry while I slept.

It should have felt violating.

It didn’t.

It felt inevitable.

The second I’d sent that text— a door between us has never stopped you from getting my milk —I’d known what I was inviting.

No, not inviting.

Unleashing.

Because Seth wasn’t the only monster in this story.

I’d thought I was in control. That I was pulling the strings, teasing him at the window, leaving milk like breadcrumbs to keep him coming back. Then withholding my milk from him.

But the truth was harsher, sharper.

Seth had flipped the game.

And I’d let him.

Every night, I’d waited in my bed, dressed in lace and pretense, knocked out by sleeping pills, telling myself I was the one with the upper hand. That I was the predator luring him closer.

But I’d woken each morning like this.

Sore.

Bruised.

Empty.

Full.

And alone.

It was never enough.

I clenched the sheets as heat pooled low in my belly.

God, there was something wrong with me.

Because I hadn’t just allowed it .

I’d documented it.

The hidden camera had captured every single encounter in grainy night-vision detail.

The first time I’d watched, I told myself it was evidence. Proof for when I finally decided Seth had gone too far.

But then I watched again.

And again.

And now the image of Seth’s broad back, his muscles flexing as he thrust into me, the sound of his low groans and filthy words spilling against my sleeping skin?—

It was burned into me.

I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t want to.

Every night he came to take, and every morning I played the victim. Pretending to myself that I hadn’t been complicit. Pretending I hadn’t arched into his hands even in my sleep. That my lips hadn’t parted in soft sighs every time he sank into me.

But the footage said otherwise.

It showed my hips shifting. My fingers twitching. My mouth whispering his name in dreams.

God, I was no better than him.

Worse, maybe.

Because I understood now. The need to watch. To see the thing you desired most and couldn’t touch when fully awake. To be outside your own body and watch your fantasies play out unfiltered.

It turned me on more than I cared to admit.

Hell, it turned me on more than anything ever had.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing at the deep ache thrumming between my cheeks. My body was littered with marks, red fingerprints at my hips, bluish bruises on my wrists from where he’d pinned me, shallow bites along my chest where he’d suckled too hard.

Seth.

My monster.

My tormentor.

I’d made him worse.

And now he knew I wasn’t the sweet omega he thought I was.

I was worse.

Because I wanted him to do it again.

And again.

And again.

But I didn’t want to wake up alone anymore.

That was the part I hadn’t planned for.

I dragged a hand down my face, already thinking.

I needed a way to tell him.

To let him know he didn’t need to creep through my door like a thief in the night.

He could stay.

He could wake up next to me.

We didn’t need this game anymore… but god, wasn’t it beautiful?

I would think of a plan.

But not yet.

Tonight, I wanted to see him do it again.

I picked up my phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up, and I hesitated for only a second, then opened the app with a swipe of my thumb.

The camera feed.

It had been my idea—my insurance. A small, discreet device hidden in the corner of my bedroom ceiling, angled perfectly to capture the bed. It uploaded everything automatically to the cloud, ensuring I’d never lose a second of footage, no matter what happened.

I unlocked the latest recording, the time stamp neatly at the corner: 2:13 a.m.

My heart gave a traitorous flutter.

Clutching the phone, I padded toward the bathroom. The tiles were cold under my bare feet, a sobering contrast to the heat blooming low in my belly.

I set the phone on the counter, propping it against the mirror at just the right angle.

And pressed Play.

Seth.

Tall. Broad. Stripped bare in the moonlight as he mounted the bed like a predator finally sinking his teeth into his prey.

And me, lying perfectly still. My face soft and slack in sleep, lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly.

I was beautiful like that. Docile. Unconscious. His.

We were beautiful.

The video rolled forward. Seth’s hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises. His cock glistening as it breached me, inch by slow inch.

I could almost hear his ragged breath. The low, guttural groans as he bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt before drawing back and thrusting again—harder this time.

I wrapped my fingers around my cock and stroked slowly as I opened the medicine cabinet with my other hand.

I retrieved the suction dildo and pressed it to the tile wall at the perfect height. The silicone kissed my fingertips, cool and slick.

In the video, Seth was relentless, snapping his hips forward in a brutal rhythm .

He leaned down, teeth grazing my shoulder before sinking in. My sleeping body arched slightly at the pressure, a soft whimper escaping my lips even in unconsciousness.

God, I looked so… pliant. So perfect.

And Seth?—

He was glorious.

A monster unleashed.

I sank down onto the dildo, the head breaching my slick entrance, and gasped at the ache. My muscles were still tender from him, but that only made the stretch sweeter.

“Fuck,” I hissed, sliding down farther until I was seated fully, my walls gripping the toy in a needy clench.

On the screen, Seth dragged his hands up my chest, squeezing my pecs, milking me roughly as his mouth latched onto a nipple. Milk sprayed over his chin and chest, and he didn’t pause but drank greedily between filthy murmurs.

“You’re mine,” Seth growled, voice low and broken. “You’re so fucking good like this, Flynn. Taking me in your sleep. Feeding me like a perfect little omega.”

I stroked my cock faster, grinding my hips back onto the dildo in time with the thrusts I saw on the screen.

Every wet slap of flesh echoed in my head.

Every moan, every grunt, every obscene squelch of slick and milk and cum.

On the screen, Seth’s knot had begun to swell. He pounded into me harder, deeper, chasing his release as he milked my chest one last time.

“You’re so full of me,” he whispered against my throat. “I’m gonna fill you so deep, you’ll taste me for days.”

That did it.

The coil in my belly snapped violently as I fucked myself down onto the toy harder, milking it with my walls like I was milking Seth’s cock.

The dildo squelched around his cum filling my ass, trailing down my inner thigh.

And when milk pearls dripped down my chest, I imagined Seth’s tongue there, collecting every drop.

Cum spurted across the bathroom tiles, striping my hand, the edge of the sink. I moaned helplessly.

It was epic. Devastating. My entire body shook with it, my chest heaving as I rode out every wave.

On-screen, Seth had stilled, his knot locking him inside me as his cum filled me, leaking out in thick spurts around the base of his cock.

I stared at the image as my orgasm faded, breathless and trembling, my cock still twitching in my hand.