Page 51 of Nursing the Alpha

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Now he knew I was here.

Now he knew I was stalking him.

Flynn returned to the window. For a few seconds, he stood there, staring out.

And yet?—

He didn’t close the blinds.

He didn’t move away.

My heart pounded like a war drum. He returned to his seat but angled even more toward the window, as if putting himself on display for me. He set the pump aside, cupped his heavy chest, and began to express manually.

The first bead of milk welled up, catching the light.

I groaned low in my throat, clenching my hand hard in my pocket.

God, he was doing it on purpose.

My sweet little omega—my shy, careful Flynn—was putting on a show.

For me.

The thought made my knees weak.

Milk spilled over his fingers and into the bottle below, and I swore I could taste it from here.

I sent another text.

Me:

God, Flynn. I miss you.

He read it, but his hand didn’t stop.

Me:

I miss your scent. I miss your milk. I can almost taste you from here.

My cock strained against my zipper, and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from reaching for it.

Me:

Don’t let a drop go to waste. Please. Leave it for me when you’re done. I’ll be grateful.

His hand was moving faster now.

So was my heart.

Me:

You’re so perfect like this. So full. So ready for me. Let me help. Let me drink. Let me have what’s mine.

A minute passed. Maybe two. I thought he wouldn’t reply.

Then my phone buzzed.

Flynn:

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