Page 32 of Nursing the Alpha
Seth’s hand slid upward to cup and knead the nipple he wasn’t suckling on, and a thrill shot down my spine. His thumb brushed over the tip, pushing at the long bud until a fresh wave of milk spilled out onto his hand. He didn’t seem disgusted by it. Not in the least. He raised his head, and our eyes met. He opened his mouth and pulled on my nipple as though milking me. The rapid spray filled his mouth. Over and over, he tugged until he was forced to swallow.
“Seth,” I whimpered, flexing my fingers in his hair.
It was too much and not enough.
He closed his lips over my nipple once more, and a soft cry tore out of me. My cock pulsed, throbbed. The air filled with the scent of my slick.
I couldn’t help it. I was coming.
I felt the veins in my neck strain as tremor after tremor made my stomach tighten. My breath hitched, and orgasmic waves rolled across my body, converging in a pulsating fireball that threatened to consume me from within. I clutched at Seth’s broad shoulders, digging my nails into his shirt, gasping for air.
Fuck.
Had I made it weird?
He’d wanted to give me relief, and I’d made it into something sexual.
I cracked my eyes open, afraid to look at him. His face was flushed, his lips parted, the milk glistening on them.
“I’m…”
He cupped my chin and kissed me hard and firm. My mouth fell open, and he took it as an invitation, slipping his tongue past my lips and conquering my mouth the way he’d just done to my body.
“Don’t apologize,” he whispered against my lips. “You were beautiful. Youarebeautiful, and I want to fuck you so badly. Can I?”
The gentle giant I knew had disappeared. The heat in his eyes, the desperate need in them, made my heart pound. This was our first date, and he’d drunk my milk. Would it be so weird to take him home and break my unintended celibacy?
11
SETH
Flynn unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped aside, motioning me in. “It’s not much.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But it’s home.”
The space was cozy. Lived in. A little cluttered, but warm with personality. Shelves filled with colorful paperbacks, a low sofa draped in a crocheted blanket, soft lighting that made everything feel gentler. Flynn, standing there with flushed cheeks and milk-stained fabric clinging to his chest, was the most beautiful thing in the room.
“I can get you coffee,” he said. “Or there’s juice in the fridge. I should probably change, though. Give me a sec to clean up?—”
I curled my fingers around his wrist.
“Leave it,” I said, voice low.
He blinked, startled. “What?”
“Leave it, Flynn.” I came closer, the air between us suddenly thick. “You don’t need to do anything but be here. You don’t need to fix yourself. You’re already perfect.”
He laughed awkwardly. “But I’ve got milk all over me.”
I stepped in until our chests nearly touched. “Your scentis driving me wild. The milk. Your body. You.” I paused, heart hammering. “You’re everything I want, just the way you are.”
He parted his lips, his breath shallow. I saw it in his eyes—hesitation, wonder, a little fear.
“I know this is fast,” I said quietly. “And I won’t push. But if you want this—if you want me—tell me now. And I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you feel good, Flynn.”
A breath caught in his throat.
Then he nodded.
That was all.
