Page 62 of Nursing the Alpha
I bent over and flicked on the lamp.
The soft light spilled over the room. On the nightstand was a bottle of sleeping pills.
Next to it was a folded paper.
My chest squeezed as I unfolded it with shaking hands.
Day 6.
Is this the night you finally realize what I want you to do?
The words blurred as my vision tunneled, my pulse roaring in my ears.
Oh god.
My throat worked around a dry swallow. My cock throbbed painfully against my jeans.
This wasn’t just a game.
He wanted me. All of me.
The note was consent.
My little omega, sleeping here so sweetly, so trustingly, wanted me to take what I’d been starving for.
I stripped off my coat, then my shirt, my hands working clumsily in their haste. My jeans followed, the metal of the buckle clinking softly in the quiet room.
By the time I was bare, my chest heaved with ragged breaths. I climbed into bed with him and turned Flynn onto his back. His soft snores continued, unbroken even as I moved him. I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Flynn was dressed in sheer lingerie that did nothing to hide his swollen pecs.
I trailed my fingers along the lace trim, a stark contrast against his skin. Every instinct urged me to hurry, to take what had been offered so generously, but I forced myself to slow down. My gaze came to rest on his face, moonlit and peaceful in slumber. Even in sleep, he was breathtakingly beautiful, my very own angel wrapped in darkness and deceit.
I tugged down the strap of his lingerie, exposing the pec that had been tormenting me for days. He moaned slightly in his sleep but didn’t wake. I traced my thumb along the swollen gland, then dipped my head and took his nipple into my mouth.
The first pull of my lips around his nipple was almost my undoing. Warm. Sweet. I groaned low in my throat, the sound muffled against his chest, and sucked gently, testing, teasing. The milk didn’t come at first, but his body softened under me, pliant and warm even in sleep. The tiniest bead wet my lips, the tang of his skin and the familiar richness of his milk coating my tongue like a benediction.
God.
I nearly lost my rhythm, clutching his side to steady myself as I drew harder, flicking my tongue over the taut bud. A second drop. A third. Finally, the steady warmth I’d been craving for nearly a week.
My eyes fluttered closed as I drank him down, slow and greedy, savoring each mouthful like it was the first.
“Fuck, baby,” I whispered against his skin. “You taste like heaven. I missed this… missed you.”
Flynn sighed softly in his sleep, his head turning just enough for his breath to ghost against my hair. The sound alone made my cock twitch painfully, but I kept my focus on his chest, on coaxing more of that sweet, perfect milk from him.
I cupped the weight of his pec in my palm, stroking my thumb tenderly along the underside, and sucked deeper, greedier now. Milk dribbled down the corner of my mouth, and I licked it away with a quiet growl.
The taste had never been enough.
But it was all I had of him.
For now.
I shifted, sliding my other hand over the lace stretched tight across his ribs, tracing the delicate pattern like it was something sacred. The fabric clung to his curves, sheer and teasing, and I had to bite back another groan.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” I murmured against his skin. “Lying here like this. Leaving me dry for days. Making me break like this.”
