Nursing the Alpha, page 8
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.
14
FLYNN
The cab ride felt longer than usual, even though it wasn’t.
I kept my hands folded in my lap, fingers knotted tight around the envelope I’d been clutching since leaving my apartment. The paper was creased now, creased and a little damp where my palms had sweated against it, but it didn’t matter.
I wasn’t here to impress anyone.
I just… needed to say this.
I’d rehearsed the words all night. Apologies. Gratitude. Even a little explanation for my abrupt resignation. But each time I ran them through in my head, they came out sounding clunky.
Still, I had to try.
Because the truth was, I wasn’t proud of how I’d left.
I’d quit without notice. No two weeks, no warning. Just a simple phone call with a request to terminate the contract effective immediately. I’d fully expected consequences. Penalties. Even legal action.
But then Walter at the agency called me, saying my employer wasn’t pressing the issue.
“Your client has chosen to waive the notice period,” he’d said as if it wasn’t the best news of my life. “You’re free to move on.”
I should have been relieved.
And I was.
But part of me couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt in my chest.
I’d signed a contract. Promised a service. I’d been prepared to give up everything—my savings, my future jobs—if it meant getting out clean. I hadn’t even blinked at the thought of losing it all because I had Seth now. Seth, who loved on me the way no one had ever done. Seth, who made me feel comfortable in my skin.
But still.
This family—whoever they were—had paid for my milk, my time, my effort.
Now I was here.
To say thank you. To say I was sorry. To say something.
The cab slowed and turned into the long private drive. My stomach knotted tighter with every foot of smooth, perfect asphalt.
Maybe I should have called first.
I shifted nervously on the seat, fidgeting with the edge of my sweater.
God, Flynn. Who just shows up at their employer’s house unannounced?
But I hadn’t known what to say over the phone. I couldn’t send an email either. It felt too impersonal.
So here I was.
The cab eased to a stop outside the house. The same house I’d come to so many times in the last month.
Sleek black trim. Clean lines. Windows like polished obsidian. The whole place was quiet, still, like the kind of home where no one raised their voice or left shoes by the door. I’d never witnessed either.
I thanked the cabbie softly and stepped out onto the driveway.
The air smelled of cedar and rain-washed stone.
I hesitated, the envelope clutched against my chest.
What was I even doing?
I’d never met them. Never seen so much as a glimpse. Only Faith, the housekeeper, with her efficient smile and careful hands, had ever spoken to me. She’d always acted like I was just one more piece of house equipment—polite but distant, never lingering long enough for small talk.
Maybe I could give her the letter.
That would be enough.
I drew in a slow breath and adjusted my tote bag on my shoulder. The straps felt heavier than usual. My pecs felt heavier too, but not in the way they used to. They were soft now, no longer engorged to the point of pain, but still tender in that residual way my body seemed unwilling to fully let go of.
The door opened.
I froze.
Seth.
His broad shoulders filled the frame.
But his eyes held no warmth.
No softening, no relief.
Only a flicker of something sharp—surprise first, then a tightening around his mouth I’d never seen before.
“Seth,” I whispered, my stomach turning to lead.
He didn’t step aside. Didn’t smile. His fingers flexed against the doorframe like he wasn’t sure whether to let me in or slam the door shut.
“Flynn… baby, what are you doing here?” His voice was low, careful. Not the warm, teasing murmur I knew so well.
My chest tightened. “I-I came to…”
Realization clawed its way up from my gut.
Why was he here?
Why… why was he here?
“Why are you—” I swallowed, my voice breaking on the words. “Seth… why are you here?”
His face didn’t soften.
The faint smile he’d been wearing vanished like it had never been there at all. His jaw tensed, a flicker of alarm passing over his features. Then he smoothed it into something unreadable.
But not fast enough.
I’d seen it—the shift.
Guilt.
Oh god.
“Flynn—” His voice was low now, cautious, almost rehearsed. “I live here.”
The world tilted on its axis.
The air punched out of my lungs.
“You…” My throat went dry, the word rasping out like it had been dragged over gravel. “You live here?”
“Yes.” He said it carefully, like a man defusing a bomb, but a crease had formed between his brows. The tightening around his eyes told me he knew exactly where this was going.
I shook my head, my stomach twisting violently. “No. No, that’s not—you can’t. This isn’t—”
I stared past him at the familiar sleek doorway, the polished floors. Inhaled the scent of cedar and warm spice I’d always thought belonged to the house.
But it didn’t.
It was him.
All of it.
“You…” My voice cracked. “You’re the one who hired me?”
“Yes.”
One word. One syllable. But something in me shattered so loud and sudden my bones hurt.
I staggered back a step. My chest felt too tight, my breath ragged.
My gaze darted over his shoulder like I expected someone else to appear. “You—you have a family? A child? This was for them?”
His jaw flexed. “No.”
“Then who? Why? I don’t understand.”
“It was for me, Flynn.” His voice stayed low, heavy now with something I didn’t want to name. “I wanted you. Your milk. All of it. Just for me.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I staggered back again, bile rising sharp and bitter in my throat.
“Oh my god.” My hands trembled as I clutched the envelope tighter. “You lied to me. You used me. You made me think I was helping a family, a baby, and it was—”
“Flynn—” He stepped forward, his hand twitching as if to reach for me, but he stopped himself. His face was drawn tight, almost pained. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Don’t touch me.” My voice cracked, sharp and trembling. “You—god, I can’t believe I let you—”
“Flynn, please. I didn’t mean—”
“I thought I was doing something good for a family!” My voice rose, bouncing off the pristine walls like a scream.
I went still.
The memory clawed its way forward—
That prickle of eyes on me in the pumping room.
That faint, almost imperceptible brush of fingers I’d told myself was my imagination.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I looked at him, my chest heaving.
“Did you watch me?” I asked, my voice small but shaking. “When I was expressing?”
Seth’s mouth tightened.
“Tell me the truth!” I shouted.
“Yes.” The word came out rough and full of something like regret. “I watched you all the damn time.”
The world blurred around me. My legs felt like water, but I held myself upright, fury the only thing keeping me from collapsing.
“Did you ever—” My throat felt raw. “Did you ever touch me?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it again.
“Flynn—”
“Answer me.”
“Yes.” His shoulders slumped, the admission sounding like it hurt him to say. “But only once.”
The floor dropped out from under me.
My voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. “What… what did you do to me?”
“I slipped you a mild sedative.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “It was nothing to hurt you, I swear. Just enough to help you sleep.”
I flinched like he’d struck me. “You…you drugged me?”
“At first, it was only so I could be close to you. To watch you. To… admire you.”
“At first?” The words were sharp, brittle. “What the hell does that mean, Seth? What did you do?”
His jaw tightened, and his eyes turned glassy with something I refused to recognize as remorse.
“I only nursed from you directly. I swear, Flynn. I never hurt you. I never took more than that.”
I stared at him, my vision swimming. My chest heaved with ragged, uneven breaths.
“You…” My voice cracked, shattered. “You made a fool of me. I knew you liked my milk, but never thought you could do something like this. What you did to me was fucked up! Did you have a good laugh at my expense?”
“Flynn, I—”
“Stay away from me. You’re sick!”
His hands dropped uselessly to his sides, his face crumpling as I shoved past him.
“Flynn—”
“Don’t.” My voice was steel now, trembling but unyielding. “Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Don’t come near me again.”
I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t.
I stumbled down the steps, clutching the crumpled envelope like it might hold me together.
“Flynn… I’m sorry.”
I didn’t stop.
Not when my vision blurred. Not when my chest ached so bad I could barely breathe.
I kept walking.
Because if I didn’t, I knew I’d break apart completely from his deceit.
15
SETH
I’d lost count of how many days I’d been riding this train.
Morning to night. Back and forth across the city. Different lines. Different platforms. Always scanning, always waiting.
Flynn wasn’t making it easy.
Not that I blamed him.
He’d changed his routine completely—new routes, new times. He didn’t answer his door anymore. The one time I’d worked up the nerve to knock, I’d been met with the sound of locks sliding firmly into place and nothing else. No footsteps. No voice.
And I couldn’t blame him.
Because what I’d done… God. It was despicable.
I rubbed a hand over my face, dragging my palm down rough stubble that had gone unshaven for days. I no longer slept well. Not since the day he’d found out. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face: the betrayal. The disgust. The way he’d looked at me like I was a stranger.
No. Not a stranger.
A monster.
And maybe I was.
He didn’t even know about the stalking.
But I couldn’t stop.
Even though it would be kinder to let him go, I kept coming back. Kept hoping for one more chance to see him. To explain. To beg, if I had to.
He’d called me a liar.
He wasn’t wrong.
But what he didn’t understand was that this wasn’t just an obsession. It wasn’t lust or curiosity or any of the shallow things it might have been once.
I loved him.
God help me, I loved that sweet, soft omega more than I loved my own skin.
I’d thought I understood devotion before, but Flynn had rewired me since the day we met on the train. I wasn’t myself without him. Everything I touched, every place I went, felt hollow if he wasn’t in my life.
And worse, he was my soulmate. I was sure of it. The way we fit together, the way he calmed something feral in me without even trying. I’d spent years building walls, and he’d dismantled them with nothing more than his laugh, his shy smiles, the warmth of his body curled into mine.
I clenched my fists in my lap, knuckles aching.
Another hour. Another stop. Another day that would probably end with me staring at an empty seat and cursing my stupidity.
The train rocked gently beneath me as I watched the streets blur past the window. Outside, people hurried along the platform, coats pulled tight against the gray drizzle.
I smelled him.
Sweet. Warm. Milk-rich.
It cut through the stale air of the train like sunlight through storm clouds.
My whole body went taut.
Flynn.
I would have known his scent anywhere.
My pulse roared in my ears as my eyes darted to the doors, scanning frantically. And there, just stepping onto the car at the far end, was Flynn.
His tote bag slung over his shoulder, curls damp from the misting rain, a book clutched loosely in his hand.
He looked tired. Pale. His lips pressed into a thin line like he was trying to hold himself together.
God, I’d missed him.
The second his eyes met mine, Flynn froze.
It was subtle. Just the slightest hitch in his step, his fingers tightening on the strap of his tote, but I felt it like a shockwave.
For one fragile moment, he didn’t move. I let myself hope—stupid, reckless hope—that he might stay. That he’d give me one chance to explain, to beg, to tell him all the things I’d rehearsed in my head on endless sleepless nights.
But then he turned.
Quick and sharp, like he’d been burned.
And he stepped into the next car without so much as a glance back.
My stomach dropped.
“Flynn, wait!”
I shot to my feet so fast the seat rocked under me. A few nearby passengers startled, their curious eyes following me as I pushed through the aisle, but I didn’t care. My pulse thundered in my ears as I barreled into the next carriage.
