Page 12 of The Alpha Escort Agency
The fire has left Maria’s voice when she speaks again. “Yeah, I know. Maybe I'll just follow him instead.”
“Maria, that's just as bad.”
“Urgh. I haven't decided what I'm going to do.” There's noise in the background. “I've gotta go now, meeting. Love you bestie. Call me on the other side.”
“Bye lovely.”
The agency is sending the Alpha around at lunch time but now she is regretting this decision. Already she feels uneasy and irritable. She opens the bedroom window, drawing back the curtain and flopping on the bed among her cushions, enjoying the way the cold breeze trips over her hot skin. Her heart is hammering in her chest and she closes her eyes, trying to dispel the feelings, her nerves, her unease for her friend, the building pressure of her heat. It doesn't help that her mind keeps straying back to the Alpha and his chocolate scent and dark eyes. She's nervous but at the same time crazy restless, just wishing he'd hurry up and arrive.
The deep breathing isn't working and she twists and turns in her sheets increasingly frustrated.
In the end, she heads to the bathroom to throw cold water over her face and swallow two painkillers to numb the ache in her pelvis. Then she glares at herself in the mirror, telling herself to get a grip until the beat of her heart slows along with her breathing and she crawls back to bed and falls into an uneasy sleep.
When she wakes an hour later with a start, she knows her heat has started. The pain in her stomach is unbearable and her body is damp with sweat. She rifles through her belongings at the end of her bed until she finds a towel and wipes away the liquid from her forehead, around her neck and down her chest. As she grits her teeth against the pain, sucking air through her nose, there is a loud knock on the door and she whimpers with relief.
Releasing her breath, she hobbles along the hallway towards the front door, hanging on to the walls for stability as she goes until she can smell him through the thick wood. She takes a large gulp of his scent, the very essence of him seeming to awaken every part of her body. Then steadying herself, she flicks the latch and opens the door.
He's even bigger than she remembered, filling the whole of the doorway, shadowed in the dim light of the entrance and lurching forward. His nostrils flare as his eyes lock on hers and his jet pupils swallow the brown of his irises.
“Hello, Alice,” he growls and the drum in her heart thuds even harder than before. “Can I come in?”
She nods, unable to find her voice, and takes a step backwards, wrapping her arms around her torso as she does.
He ducks into the flat with obvious caution, as if trying not to spook her, and as she scuttles away he follows, keeping a distance between them and shutting the door silently behind him.
In one hand he carries a large shopping bag and in the other a small suitcase, and he's dressed in the same dark jeans and a battered leather jacket, his dark hair loose around his face. He lowers the suitcase to the ground, his eyes still fixed on hers.
“I have food,” he tells her, “I'm going to go and put it in the fridge.” His eyes swivel around the open plan room he's just stepped into until he spots the kitchenette and the fridge in the corner. “You go lie down.”
She doesn't move. She's not sure her legs work anymore. Her whole body shakes and the pain in her gut penetrates straight through to her spine. Sliding her hands, behind her back, she flattens her palms against the coolness of the wall.
He doesn't react to her disobedience, instead he turns and strides to the fridge, placing several tupperware boxes onto the shelves.
Her legs buckle with a fresh stab of pain, and his giant figure swims through the wetness pooling in her eyes.
Everything after that is a blur; the pain and the intense need for him whipping away the reason of her mind. Distantly, as if watching from far away, she sees him close the fridge and stalk towards her, drawing closer and closer, his scent intensifying with every step, and then his hands are on her, and she hears herself moan with the way his touch feels against her skin. He's pressing her into the wall, his words a stream of reassurances. She catches the meaning of an odd word but before she grasps it properly it scuttles away — the brush of his warm breath so near to her neck is too distracting. Her own voice floats in the void too, words she doesn't remember forming on her lips. Pleas for him to take her, begs for him to make her come.
Then the room is moving fast as she's carried away through the living space and along the hallway to her bedroom and then she's staring up at the white ceiling and the dark lampshade. She feels the pressure of his head between her legs, the tight clasp of his hand at her breasts and then the electrifying sensation of his tongue buried between her wet swollen lips, gliding along until he finds what he’s looking for and any reason, any awareness of the here and now, is extinguished in the flick of his tongue against her. Long, hard flick after flick after flick and the pain and the tightness morph into an ecstasy that has her convulsing against his mouth.
When she opens her eyes, she realizes time has shifted because the light and the shadows have altered across the room and she understands she's been sleeping; the covers wrapped around her naked body. She twists, hearing noise outside the room, and tries to sit, the pain in her stomach stirring so that she grunts and flops back down.
She screws up her eyes.
“Omega,” she opens them, and finds herself peering straight into his. “Sit up.” A strong arm hooks beneath her armpits and lifts her up, supporting her weight, and then cold glass touches her parched lips. “Drink.” He tips the glass and cool liquid hits her mouth and she opens, letting it run into her throat. “Are you hungry?” he asks, lowering the glass while she swallows.
“No.” Her voice is hoarse. He's so very near, the heat of his body tangible. She reaches for him, fisting the front of his t-shirt, and he seems to know what this means. He places the water down on the floor, and leans into her, pushing her down into the mattress.
“Do you want to be fucked, little Omega?” he says.
She whimpers, the very thought of it causing slick to gush from her, gliding down onto her thighs and dampening the sheets. She tugs him harder, wanting the weight of him pressed down on top of her.
“I need your consent,” he says, his voice strained.
“Yes,” she mutters, “yes, fuck me.”
“Yes,” he tells her, “Yes.” And then he flips her onto her stomach, and she buries her face into the pillow. There's a wait that feels like an eternity, and then the hard grip of his hands on her hip bones, and the feel of him slipping down her cheeks until he finds her entrance and slowly, creepingly slowly, pushes his way in. It feels like she's being swallowed up from the inside, as if he's taking her over completely. He's large and he anchors her to him, and the awareness of her mind snaps away with every drive of his body into hers, followed by the expansion at his base as he locks them together.
It's pitch black when she wakes much later, the Alpha's voice soft in her ear, his hand shaking her arm lightly.
