Page 22 of Nursing the Alpha

SETH

T he night air was colder than usual.

The kind of cold that clung to your skin and seeped into your bones no matter how fast you walked.

But even as I made my way up the steps of Flynn’s building, my body burned.

It had burned for two weeks straight.

Every night.

Every time I slipped through his door like a thief, my veins felt scorched from the inside out.

I couldn’t stay away.

God knew I should’ve.

Tonight felt no different, and yet, something in me whispered it was.

The apartment looked the same. Dark. Quiet.

His bedroom door stood ajar like always, a faint slice of golden light spilling from his nightstand lamp.

The scent of milk drifted faintly on the air, weaker than before. My chest tightened. He wasn’t producing as much anymore. My omega’s supply was drying up .

By now I should’ve moved on. Found another omega who could give me what I craved. Someone fresh. Fuller. Someone whose body could keep me fed and sated until I couldn’t drink anymore.

But I couldn’t.

It had to be Flynn.

Always Flynn.

I undressed quickly, folding my clothes with a care that felt out of place for the depravity of what I was about to do.

I slipped into the bed behind him, the mattress dipping softly under my weight.

He was wearing another one of those negligees. Black lace stretched taut over his pecs, delicate straps digging into his pale shoulders. His thighs were bare, smooth, parted slightly like he’d been waiting for me.

Fuck.

I let my hand hover over his hip before settling there, fingers splaying wide, memorizing the shape of him.

His body was warm and pliant. His breathing slow, even.

The bottle of sleeping pills sat where it always did on the nightstand.

I hated it.

Hated the ritual.

Hated that I couldn’t stop.

And at the same time loved it. The stolen moments I got to use his hole like it was exclusively mine.

For a long moment I just lay there spooning him, staring at the back of his head. His curls were mussed, his scent weaker but still enough to make my cock stir against his ass.

What would we say to each other if I stayed? If I didn’t leave in the mornings before the sleeping pills wore off.

Two weeks of this game. Of me taking and him letting me. It had gone on for so long that it felt like honesty would break us.

Would we even know how to stop?

I pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, inhaling deeply.

Though fainter tonight, his milk scent still made my mouth water.

“God, Flynn,” I whispered, so low it was almost a prayer. “What are we doing to each other?”

For a heartbeat I imagined him turning over. Awake. Meeting my gaze with those big, dark eyes and saying what we both knew.

That we got off on this.

That neither of us was innocent.

But he didn’t stir.

So I shifted closer, pressing my cock between his thighs, feeling the faint warmth of his slick even through the lace.

This was our charade.

And I couldn’t seem to end it.

I couldn’t stop myself.

Not tonight.

Slowly, I slid down his body, letting my lips trace a path over his spine, his hips, the soft swell of his ass. I breathed him in—milk and slick and the faint scent of lavender detergent clinging to his skin—and felt my cock twitch painfully.

I spread him gently, my thumbs parting his cheeks, and the sight of his hole, pink, glistening faintly in the dim light, made my mouth water.

“Fuck, Flynn,” I whispered. “Look at you. Always so ready for me.”

I didn’t wait.

I leaned in and dragged my tongue over his entrance in one long, slow stroke .

The taste of him, sweet and faintly salty, made me groan into his skin.

I licked him again, more firmly this time, my tongue circling and teasing before plunging shallowly inside.

His body twitched faintly.

I froze for half a breath, then relaxed. Just his sleeping body responding.

Good.

I pressed my face in deeper, my hands gripping his thighs as I devoured him like a starving man.

Soft, wet sounds filled the quiet room as I worked him open, tongue fucking him, tasting his slick.

“Christ, you taste so fucking good,” I murmured against him. “Could eat you all night.”

When I finally pulled back, my face was wet, my cock throbbing, and my control hanging by a frayed thread.

I kissed my way back up his body, over the curve of his ass, the small of his back, the lace clinging damply to his skin. Slowly I turned him over and shoved the material of the negligee apart.

His pecs were softer than usual under my palms, but his nipples already taut.

I latched on greedily, drawing hard.

Warm milk hit my tongue in a rush, and I groaned deep in my chest, my hips grinding unconsciously against the sheets.

“Fuck… that’s it, baby,” I whispered against his skin. “Feed me. Let me have it all.”

I switched to his other pec, my hand squeezing the first gently, milking him as my mouth worked. His body arched faintly, a soft sound escaping his throat.

My chest tightened. I wanted more.

I wanted him awake .

I wanted him begging.

I wanted?—

My lips trailed higher, over his collarbone, his throat, until they found his mouth.

I kissed him.

And he kissed me back.

I froze.

His eyes, wide, dark, and burning, stared up at me.

I jerked back in shock, but his legs wrapped around my waist like a trap snapping shut.

“Don’t you dare stop,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. “Or do you only want to fuck me when I’m all drugged up?”

My breath caught.

“No,” I said. My voice cracked, raw and desperate. “No, Flynn. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He fisted his hands into my hair, yanking me down, and our mouths crashed together.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a collision. Of raw desire.

Teeth, tongue, need.

I swallowed his groan as my hips surged forward, and I buried myself inside him in one hard thrust.

He cried out into my mouth, his nails raking down my back, and I lost it.

I fucked him rough, hard, triumphant, my hands pinning his wrists above his head as our bodies slammed together. The sound of wet skin and our ragged breaths filled the room.

“You’re mine,” I growled against his lips. “You’ve always been mine.”

“Then take me.” He locked his legs tighter around me. “Take everything. Don’t you fucking hold back.”

My sweet, filthy omega .

I didn’t hold back.

I pounded into him like I’d die if I stopped, my mouth moving between his lips and his nipples, sucking greedily, drinking as I fucked.

Milk sprayed between us, coating our chests, dripping down our stomachs, slick and warm and obscene. The bed groaned a protest under our weight, my thrusts frantic as though I could get to crawl inside his skin and live there forever. Then I would never have to pull out.

“God, Flynn—so fucking tight—so fucking perfect?—”

“Don’t stop,” he panted. “Harder, Seth. Fuck me harder. I’ve missed you so much.”

My hands bruised his hips as I obeyed, holding him down onto the bed so he couldn’t pull away while slamming into him with brutal, desperate strokes. “I missed you too. Every night I claimed your body but missed this. Missed your consciousness.”

I flipped him roughly, his back arching as I hauled his hips up, pulling him into me as I thrust. He screamed and pulled away, but I wasn’t having it. I pulled him back onto my cock, grinding all the way inside him to the base despite his sob.

His negligee was a shredded mess, the delicate lace torn and hanging loose at his sides where I’d yanked it down. The straps had slipped from his shoulders, baring the smooth expanse of his back, the fabric bunched uselessly at his waist.

I dragged my hands up his spine, watching goosebumps bloom under my palms, before gripping his shoulders and pistoning into him harder.

“Mine,” I growled, voice hoarse.

His breath hitched, a raw sound torn from his throat as my teeth found the back of his neck .

“You’re fucking mine too,” he snarled, voice muffled against the pillow. “Now fuck me, alpha. Like you fucking mean it.”

A guttural growl ripped out of me. I grabbed a fistful of his curls, yanking his head back so I could bite down hard on the curve of his shoulder.

He cried out, his fingers clutching at the sheets, nails dragging furrows through the fabric as I force fed him my cock, hips snapping forward in punishing, relentless thrusts.

The bed frame rattled violently under us, the headboard banging the wall in time with every frantic drive of my cock. The air was thick with the sounds of wet skin slapping, ragged breathing, and our shared, desperate groans.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” I growled, teeth scraping along his nape. “So tight… so wet… tell me to slow down, baby.”

“I can take it,” Flynn gasped, his voice breaking, his ass pushing back into my thrusts. “Don’t hold back. Give me everything, Seth. Every filthy fucking thing.”

I ground into him so my pelvis hit the swell of his ass. My hands slid up his chest, palms cupping his pecs as my fingers pinched his nipples, coaxing milk to bead and spill. I could feel the wetness dripping down my fingers. I brought my fingers to my lips and sucked them into my mouth.

He tasted like sunshine and hell.

My hands kneaded and milked his pecs in time with my pounding hips, the rich scent of milk and slick thickening the air until I was drunk on it.

“You like this?” I panted against his skin.“You like me milking you while I fuck you raw, while I own this perfect body?”

“Yes,” he gasped, voice muffled against the sheets. “God, yes, Seth. I fucking love it. I love being your dirty little omega.”

That was all it took.

I lost the last shred of control, fucking him harder, faster, my knot swelling as my cock throbbed inside him.

“Gonna fill you up,” I growled through gritted teeth, my lips dragging along the shell of his ear. “Gonna breed you so deep you’ll be dripping for days.”

“Yes! Fuck—do it—fill me—fuck me full, Seth.”

My orgasm hit me like lightning, release flooding into him in hot, thick pulses, so much it spilled back out around the base of my knot even as it swelled and locked me inside him.

Flynn convulsed beneath me, his own orgasm wracking him. He clawed at the sheets, his voice breaking as he cried out, trembling violently as I held him pinned, my chest pressed flush to his slick back.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered hoarsely, his words nearly lost in the haze of our ragged breathing. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I love everything you do to me.”

I buried my face in the back of his neck, my own chest heaving.

“Never again.”