Page 2 of Their Alpha

“Thanks.” I smiled. “I wanted to ask if you had any inside information for me, though.”

“Inside information?” I could hear the slight frown in Victor’s voice.

“Yeah. I’ve done my research and I know they’re a good company with an emphasis on social responsibility, but wasn’t there something in the news about some of the officers a few years back?” I asked.

Victor puffed out a breath. “There’s always something in the news about any big corporation like that. I know they do a lot of good in Barrington.”

“They do,” I said with a nod. “I could swear I heardsomething…different about them. Something about Justice Goode. I can’t remember what it is, though.”

“Justice Goode,” Victor chuckled. “What a name, eh?”

“It’s certainly different. Something about it rings a bell.”

“I can do a little research if you want,” Victor said. His sudden intake of breath after hinted to me that maybe it was time for the conversation to be over so he could take care of a few things with Simon.

The idea of my friend fucking his omega over his desk sparked visions of some cocky omega holding me down while he vigorously milked my cock in order to bottle my seed and save it for later. It had me breaking out in a sweat.

I cleared my throat. “I wouldn’t say no to some research,” I said. “But for now, I’ll let you go. Sounds like Simon needs you.”

Victor laughed. “Yeah, Simon needs something, alright. Don’t you, boy? You need your master to spread your cheeks and dump his cum in your greedy hole.”

I grinned at Victor’s dirty talk. “I’m definitely letting you go now,” I laughed. “Have fun, and I’ll catch up with you later about being my second.”

“Talk to you later,” Victor said, then hung up.

I shook my head with a broad smile as I tapped my phone, then stood and slipped it into my back pocket. There were a lot of things that people who weren’t part of the kink scene wouldn’t understand about those of us who were. I’d been around a few times when someone vanilla had witnessed a Dom disciplining their sub and had freaked out because they didn’t understand the dynamic. Everything was one hundred percent consensual in the circles I ran in, but that didn’t mean it didn’t look cruel to outsiders.

I wouldn’t mind a little cruelty directed at me. As Iwalked to the stand where my coat hung in the corner of the room, threw it on, then headed out of my office, I smiled at the idea of finding an omega with enough of an attitude to give me the kind of pleasure I craved.

I headed through the office to the elevator, smiling and nodding at a few colleagues I saw along the way. No one liked to talk about submissive alphas because alphas were meant to be aggressive and dominating. I knew full well that there were a lot more of us who liked to strongly and aggressively submit, though.

My particular kink was that I liked to be force-milked. I’d even volunteered to provide semen for the Heat Lightning program that Bangers & Mash had developed a while back, but as heady as the experience was, it had been too clinical for me. I craved the fantasy of forced submission along with the physical sensation of having every drop of cum possible yanked out of my balls.

As the elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the ground floor, I glanced around at the other alphas coming and going in the huge office building, wondering how many of them were closet submissives, too. Probably a lot of them.

The café where I was scheduled to meet with my prospective playmate, Fletcher Battersea, was a few trolley stops down from the Victory Holdings building. He’d chosen a cute spot at the edge of one of the city’s largest parks. It was the perfect place to meet and set up a fantasy like the one we’d agreed to through the app. Some people thought deals like the one we were about to do were best done in a secluded spot, but when you were in a noisy crowd, there was too much going on for anyone to pay attention to what two random people were talking about over sandwiches.

I recognized Fletcher from his picture on the app as soon as I entered the café. He was in his late twenties with dark hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. He stood from the table by the patio that he’d already taken and waved to me. I was surprised at how tall he was for an omega and how fit he looked. If I didn’t already know from his app profile that he was an omega, I would have assumed he was a beta. A hot, brooding beta at that. Just my type.

“Artemis Montgomery?” Fletcher asked as I approached the table. His tenor voice was forceful, but it definitely had the lilt that only omegas had.

“Yes,” I answered, stretching my hand out to him. “Fletcher Battersea?”

Fletcher took my hand with a nod and shook it. I immediately noticed he was wearing a wedding ring. Interesting, but not entirely unusual. A lot of omegas who were married to betas or other omegas sought out an alpha to take them through heat. It made a bit more sense why Fletcher was looking for an alpha for a captive milking fantasy.

“Have a seat,” Fletcher said, letting go of my hand and gesturing to the seat on the other side from where he sat. He launched right into things with a serious look before I could come up with any banter to ease the conversation. “Your app profile says you’re looking for a captive fantasy,” he said, stating it as fact instead of as a question.

I smiled. Already, I liked Fletcher. “I am,” I said. I darted a look around, but no one in the crowded café was paying attention to anything but their own lunchtime conversations. “I’m open to whatever narrative you want for the scenario, kidnapping, scientific experiment, alien abduction.” I’d played that last one once and it had been a hilariously good time.

“The scenario isn’t as important to me as the outcome,” Fletcher said, shaking his head a little. “I just need your seed.”

The cold, clinical way Fletcher spoke gave me a shiver of arousal. Coupled with his bright, almost harsh burnt sugar scent, it had me growing and my cock pressing against my trousers, right there in the middle of the café.

“I can give you what you need,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Like my app profile says, I get off on being used by omegas. I particularly enjoy anything that gives me the feeling of being humiliated or milked by force.” Just talking about it was getting me hot.

Fletcher nodded like the whole thing was technical. “I can definitely provide you with that,” he said, meeting my eyes directly and speaking to me like he was the one in charge. “Your profile also says you produce a lot of seed when you’re in rut.” Again, it was a statement, not a question.

“I do,” I answered. “If I’m in the presence of a particularly compatible omega in heat, I can produce up to a pint per heat wave.”

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