Night One

LEAH

I was laying on my back in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling while my body refused to settle. 

The soft gray top Alpha Dominic had given me was already damp again around my nipples. My breasts felt swollen and heavy, the ache deep and insistent, like they were punishing me for ignoring them. 

Every small shift of my arms made fresh milk bead at the tips and soak further into the fabric and even, between my legs the slick had never fully stopped. It kept me wet and restless, thighs sticking together whenever I tried to close them.

I don’t even freaking know what was happening. It never happened- not like this and it was scaring me even more.

The collar sat warm against my throat which was a quiet reminder that I was being tracked. That he would know if I left the wing. But I could not hold back because the pressure became unbearable.

I needed something cold. Something to take the edge off until morning and my mind raced to- Ice! Yes! The kitchen had to have ice.

I slipped out of bed barefoot and moved quietly into the hallway. The private wing was dark except for low recessed lighting along the floor. My heart beat too fast as I followed the path I remembered toward the kitchen. 

Every step made my breasts sway and ache and milk continued to leak in slow, steady drops, warm trails sliding down the underside of each breast and soaking the fabric tighter against my skin.

It sent tingles down my spine and I had to calm myself.

The kitchen was larger than the entire apartment I shared with my mother. Stainless steel and dark stone, all of it gleaming under a single under-cabinet light someone had left on. 

I immediately walked over and opened the freezer reaching for the ice tray. “Couldn’t sleep?” I spun around so fast the ice tray almost slipped from my hands.

He stood in the doorway.

He was still dressed in the same black shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled up, but the top buttons were undone. His hair was slightly disordered, like he had been running his hands through it. His eyes were dark again- not fully black, but close. 

He looked like he hadn’t slept either. His gaze dropped straight to my chest.

The wet patches were impossible to miss under the kitchen light. Two clear circles of damp fabric clung to me, the outlines of my nipples visible through the soft material. Fresh milk was still seeping, darkening the gray further and …. My eyes widened in shame, embarrassment. 

Oh fuck no-

Something in his expression snapped and before I knew it, he crossed the kitchen in four long strides. I barely had time to set the ice tray down before his hands closed around my waist and lifted me onto the counter like I weighed nothing.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips when the cold stone hit the backs of my thighs through the thin pants. 

He stepped between my knees, forcing them apart, and planted both hands on the counter on either side of my hips. I was too stunned to utter anything. Moreover, his touch on my burning skin had made me forget. 

He didn’t ask.

His fingers went to the hem of my top and pulled it upward. I made a small sound of protest that died the second the cool air hit my bare skin. “P-please-” 

He dragged the fabric over my head and dropped it on the counter beside me. My breasts were full, heavy, nipples tight and wet with milk that continued to bead and drip in slow, steady rivulets.

I turned my head away, too embarrassed to meet his gaze because what the fuck was I doing with my mother’s boss. I had to be crazy mad, right? 

He stared for one long second then he lowered his head and latched onto my left breast. The moment he did, my body immediately unknowingly arched into him as if waiting for that.

The heat of his mouth was shocking. He started sucking deep and steady, drawing milk from me in long pulls that made my back arch and a broken moan spill out of my throat.

He rolled his tongue against the erect nipple, slurping the liquid. Relief and pleasure crashed together so hard my vision blurred. My hands flew to his shoulders, not sure if I was trying to push him away or pull him closer.

“Alpha- wait-this feels-” The words tangled. It felt wrong and right at the same time, too intimate and too much. My face burned. “I- I don’t-”

He made a low, rough sound against my skin and sucked harder, ignoring my half-formed protest. The dual pressure of the ache leaving my breast and the wet heat of his mouth sent sparks straight down between my legs. 

My hips twitched without permission and I felt his free hand slide down my stomach and straight into the waistband of the lounge pants.

I gasped and the moment his hand travelled down, my pussy spurted out wetness making me feel more hot and embarrassed. 

He found the slick coating of my inner thighs and my folds were swollen and sensitive. Two of his fingers stroked through the wetness once, twice, gliding over my clit in slow, deliberate circles. 

My hips buckled in desperation and need but he didn't push inside. Just rubbed, firm and sure, while his mouth continued to work at my breast, drinking like he had been starving for it.

The sensation was too much as pleasure built fast and sharp, coiling tight in my lower belly. My hips rocked against his hand without permission. He switched to the other breast, latching on just as greedily, and the new angle of his fingers sent a fresh wave of slick spilling around them. 

I could hear how wet I was and I could hear the soft, filthy sounds of him drinking from me. “Alpha-” His name came out broken. I tried to close my thighs, embarrassed by how easily my body was responding, but he kept me open with the width of his hips. 

“It’s- too much-I can’t-”

He growled against my skin and sucked harder, fingers pressing more firmly against that swollen little aching pearl and it snapped.

I came hard as my juices dropped down his knuckles, thighs clamping around his wrist and a high, helpless sound tearing out of my throat. My whole body twitched and jerked, milk flooding his mouth in a sudden rush as the orgasm milked me further. 

He drank every drop with his fingers still moving against me, dragging the climax out until my legs were shaking and I was slumped against the cabinets, panting but he didn’t stop right away.

He slowed the pull of his mouth and gentled the stroke of his fingers, but he stayed latched until the worst of the pressure in my breasts had eased. Only then did he release my nipple with a wet sound and lift his head. 

His lips were shiny and eyes were almost completely black. He looked as wrecked as I was- breathing hard, jaw tight, and the hand that had been between my thighs still resting possessively over my soaked folds.

For a second I thought he was going to take more. His body was rigid with the effort of holding back and I could see the thick outline of him straining against his pants. Instead he pulled his hand free, brought his fingers to his mouth, and tasted the slick coating them. 

Another low, broken sound left him and…. Then he moved. He lifted me off the counter as easily as he had put me there, one arm under my knees and the other around my back. 

My bare chest pressed against his shirt and I could feel how hard he was, the heat of him through the fabric. He carried me out of the kitchen and down the dark hallway in silence with his breathing still uneven.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom I had been given and laid me down on the sheets. My top was still in the kitchen-Oh God.

He pulled the blanket up over my chest, then braced one hand on the mattress beside my head and leaned down until his mouth was close to my ear.“You’re not ready yet,” he growled, voice rough and strained.

“If I take you the way I want to right now, I won’t stop. And you’re not ready for that.”

He stayed there for another second, breathing me in. My cheeks burned hotter with embarrassment, yet I was still craving him- aching in a deeper, hungrier way that had nothing to do with milk.

He didn’t leave but sat on the edge of the bed, one hand still braced near my head, eyes locked on mine in the low light. “Have you done this before?” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. 

“With anyone.” I swallowed. My pulse was still racing. “Done… what?”

“Let a man touch you like that. Taste you. Make you come.” Heat flooded my face. I wanted to look away, but his gaze pinned me. “No,” I whispered. 

“Never.” His jaw tightened. “Have you touched yourself?” The question was so direct it stole the air from my lungs. I shook my head once, then forced the truth out. “I tried. Once or twice. But I… I couldn’t even get a finger inside. It hurt. I stopped.”

Something dark and possessive flickered across his face. He exhaled slowly, like he was fighting for control all over again. “How many times have you come before tonight?”

“Only… only what just happened. In the kitchen.” My voice was barely audible. “That was the first time anyone- anything-”

He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again they were nearly black. “Fuck.” The word was soft, almost uncontrollable. 

“You’re completely untouched.”

I bit my lower lip, nodded, mortified and still trembling from the aftershocks. The ache between my legs hadn’t faded. If anything it had sharpened, empty and needy in a way I didn’t know how to name.

He leaned down again, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “That’s why I stopped. Because the second I get inside you, Leah, I’m going to ruin you for anyone else. And you’re not ready for how hard I’d take you.”

My breath hitched and my collar felt warmer than before against my throat. Suddenly, he pushed himself upright and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

The ache that had driven me to the kitchen was gone but was now replaced by a deeper, hungrier pull that only made it worse.