Page 14 of Nursing the Alpha
I couldn’t picture my little, innocent omega like that. He seemed so sweet.
Flynn’s voice broke the quiet again.
“Hello?” Louder this time, a sharp edge creeping in. “If someone’s there, you’re not funny.”
Oh, baby.
I’m not trying to be funny.
Flynn stood frozen for a moment longer, his chest rising and falling in sharp little pants, his wide eyes scanning the woods.
Then he turned.
His pace was at first quick. Then faster.
By the time he hit the main path, he was running again, not that measured jog from earlier but something more frantic, his arms pumping harder, his breath ragged.
Good boy.
The sight of him retreating—tight ass flexing in those jogging pants, curls bouncing wildly—sent a shiver through me. My cock ached against the zipper of my jeans.
For a split second, I imagined chasing him. Taking those long strides, catching him by the waistband, dragging him off the path where no one could hear his cries. I could feed from him all I wanted.
Would his scent change? Go sharp with fear? Or sweet with heat as his body betrayed him?
But I stayed in the shadows.
He didn’t look back until he was almost at his street.
Even then, he only turned his head slightly, like he didn’twantto see someone there. Like he was forcing himself not to confirm the weight of eyes on him.
I followed, careful, slow, matching his speed without ever closing the gap.
When he finally disappeared inside his apartment, I let out a long breath.
He was safe.
I adjusted myself through my jeans, wincing at the insistent ache between my legs. My little omega had no idea how close he’d come to being claimed right there in the woods.
Fuck. I’d been reckless. I dug into the pocket of my shorts and took out my suppressant. With two puffs, the adrenaline ebbed away.
Flynn was innocent. I couldn’t be reckless with something—someone—so delicate. I had other means of getting his milk.
With a low sigh, I turned back down the street.
Time to go home. Shower. Get ready for work. Pretend I wasn’t hard as a fucking rock over the memory of Flynn’s voice trembling as he’d called out “Who’s there?”
6
FLYNN
By the time I stepped out of the cab, my chest ached. Not the dull, constant ache I’d grown used to. This was sharp. Hot. The kind of fullness that made my shirt cling uncomfortably to my swollen pecs and every breath feel tight. I probably should’ve expressed a little before coming, but I didn’t want to show up half-empty. It was my first day on the job. I wanted to make a good impression.
Full chest, full heart,I told myself as I adjusted the strap on my tote bag.
The house was a palace.
Not in the old-money, crumbling-elegance kind of way. This was clean lines and quiet wealth, modern with black trim, dark wood, wide glass windows that reflected the trees lining the private street. A long stone path led up to a sleek black door framed by minimalist planters. No toys in the yard. No baby swing on the porch. Not even a stroller by the steps.
