“Hunter!”
I yelp at his hand playfully smacking my ass as he rushes up the gunmetal steps and kicks the bathroom door shut. When he finally puts me down, he cages me against the wall.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all week long,” he whispers, brushing back some of my hair behind my ear. The longing within him is palpable. Hunter’s expression is affectionate as he leans down to kiss my neck.
“I’ve.” He kisses my cheek.
“Missed.” A lick up my throat.
“You.” A nip at my earlobe.
Lust burns within me, an ache blooming low beneath the spandex he designed. I can feel his smile widen against my cheek at the sound of my moan. His hands start at my bralette, pulling it over my head and freeing my breasts. He hums with pleasure at the sight, cupping each one. His hands are rough, the hands of a man who makes a career out of heavy lifting, and when his calloused thumbs swipe over each peak, playfully pinching, I close my eyes.
His coarse hands are so at odds with the softness of his kiss, the contrasting sensations an electric wire right to my center.
Hunter is the type of alpha who worships and bows before his omega. Being with him is easy, fun. He bends down to peel the leggings off, kissing every inch of skin he can reach on the way down until I’m bare before him. He takes his time rising, dragging his tongue up, then taking each nipple in his mouth.
I could come from that alone, but he lets go of me and leads me to the large shower. I turn the nozzle to the exact temperature I want while he strips so quickly his leg gets caught in his shorts and he hops around twice to free himself.
The water sprays us as he presses me against the marble shower walls, kissing me before turning me around so he can take me from behind. His cock slowly slides in, giving me time to adjust to his size. Slick and water slide down my legs.
“Do you want my fingers or water?” he asks.
“Showerhead.”
He kisses my shoulder before grabbing the showerhead and turning it to my favorite setting, directing the surge of water to my center. He holds it in the perfect position, the flow hitting my clit while his cock slams into me over and over again. It’s the perfect combination of pleasure and my knees shake.
“You feel so good,” he groans, going even harder and placing kisses on my neck.
It will take a while before I feel comfortable to have sex with a new client, so I plan on enjoying this weekend, especially as my faux heat will start soon.
The delicious combination of the water and the force of him builds my pleasure quickly, rushing me to the finish line. I come screaming his name.
Hunter presses into me a few last times in quick succession until he’s coming, too. Rule number five.No knots.
I’ve never been knotted—it’s too intimate. Ineed to be able to leave at any point, not literally be stuck to an alpha. It’s supposed to feel amazing and a frequent topic of conversation when omegas are together, but I’ll never know.
It honestly sounds a little painful.
He knows this well and pulls out slightly to ensure his knot stays out of me. He sucks on my neck, arms tight around me as his warmth floods my core, mixing with my slick. The sensual cocktail slides down my legs when he pulls out.
Hunter uses the showerhead to clean me up, returning to my clit once our mess is washed away for one last quick orgasm while he kisses me, swallowing my moan.
By the time we’re done, my lingering orgasm has me tired. He wraps a large towel around me like I’m a little kid, and picks me up around my ass to carry me to the bedroom using only one arm. He loves to show off his strength. This gracious alpha slips a sweatshirt over me with his logo on it and an extra pair of shorts in my size he keeps for moments like this, and silently leads me over to a bed so massive, it could easily sleep four. When there’s a knock, he quickly throws on enough clothing to answer the door, returning a minute later with a white bag of beignets, a bowl of popcorn, a tray with all the food I brought, and a goofy grin.
I think in another life, he and I could have been best friends. Maybe if we had both been born betas. Simpler designations. I could see us growing up as next door neighbors in a cozy small town. First kisses and prom dates and fooling around in his parents’ basement. The type of guy I would marry right after college and in a flash be celebrating our fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Not a relationship dependent on his generosity to my bank account.
If I weren’t such a commodity, and he wasn’t driven by alpha instincts.
Hunter pulls back the covers and snuggles in with me, pulling me close, purring softly. He’s warm and kind and for a moment, it really does feel like I am his girlfriend. I want to stay here all night.
Of course, I won’t. It’s rule number four.No sleepovers.
Nothing that makes this seem like a real relationship. One of the many keys to never getting attached to my clients.
This endearing alpha lets me pick the rom-com we watch, cocooned in his fluffy bed, his soft purr relaxing me. Halfway through the movie, neither of us is truly watching as we trade lazy kisses. He checks his social media accounts for the night, responding to fans, and I silently watch travel videos, adding a cool nature preserve in Albania to my international bucket list. Both of us eating the gooey lasagna he thinks I made straight out of the pan.
