2. Emmeline
2
Emmeline
“ A
lpha,” I whisper, heat coiling through me as Uri’s massive frame moves closer.
His presence alone makes my head swim. His every step makes the floor vibrate beneath my feet, that rich spice and honey scent screaming that he’s mine.
His dark slacks and crisp white dress shirt seem almost offensive in how perfectly they fit his frame. My legs tremble, my heart races, and my slick pools in my underwear.
“Omega.” He comes to a stop a metre or so away, his warm brown eyes showing concern rather than the dominance I ache for.
I don’t bother stopping the slow way I analyse his physique. I can’t. He’s extremely beautiful, and I’m wondering if he’s just come from a model shoot or if this was just for my benefit.
It was absolutely not for your benefit, Emme, get your head out of the gutter.
“Uri Rothschild. Just who I was looking for.” I can’t hide the attraction I have to this man, even if I wanted to. My scent betrays it—the lavender is fruitier than usual, and the sweetness in the chamomile is far sweeter than it should be.
All thanks to this man—this alpha.
My heart is beating faster than a hummingbird, and I’m trying to resist the urge to cross some serious workplace boundaries. Would he be offended if I asked him to take his shirt off and flex those muscles for me?
If I asked if my tongue could trace the outlines of his abs?
“I assumed you were.” Uri’s amusement is clear, and he arches one of his dark brows. When he smiles, he has two dimples on either side, and his cheekbones seem sharper, more prominent. “May I inquire as to why? It’s Saturday, and you weren’t called in to assist.”
“Alpha,” I repeat, taking a step towards him. I flutter my eyelashes, and my inner omega purrs.
His smile widens, his scent sweetening, and I literally feel my own slick on my thighs, soaking into the fabric of my leggings.
“You’re feeling needy, aren’t you, little omega?” he murmurs, and I whine, nodding, struggling to not completely give in to my omega instincts.
This is my boss.
My beautiful alpha boss.
Fuck, Emmeline, have you seen yourself? No. No. You cannot do this. No.
I refuse to be this weak.
I’ve spent years— literal years —proving that I’m more than an omega with a heat cycle. More than just a body for an alpha to knot and keep.
More than the hormonal mess my body wants me to be.
I should turn around. I should walk out of here and leave before I humiliate myself any further.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
My knees tremble as the thick heat of his scent washes over me, richer, deeper, laced with something intoxicating.
I clench my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms, trying to ground myself.
I will not be this pathetic.
I will not beg.
I will not?—
“My alpha,” I whisper, the words rough against my dry throat. My resolve cracks like thin ice, the sound of his measured breathing filling the quiet office.
I take a deep inhale of his scent, letting the spice burn my lungs in the best way.
I’ve spent years building my career, and here I am, ready to throw it all out of the window for the chance to present myself to my COO.
To my boss… my scent match… my fated mate.
Uri exhales sharply.
A muscle ticks in his jaw, his control visibly unraveling, and that single reaction—that one tiny crack in his restraint—undoes me completely.
When he speaks, his voice is rougher, deeper. “You’re such a good omega, Emmeline. But you need to be careful. There’s only so much restraint even I can manage when you smell like that.”
I purr, loving the compliment, loving the way he focuses so intently on me. My heart thuds rapidly against my chest, and the pheromones in the air give me a head rush.
“I don’t think you’re in your right mind, love. When is your heat due?”
I lean in towards him, wanting to touch his soft skin, feel his hard muscles, be surrounded by his delicious scent. I whimper, warmth pooling low in my belly at his closeness.
“My alpha.”
Uri nods, inching closer but still just out of my reach. “You smell… intense , little omega.”
Another shiver wracks my body, my head feeling heavy and light at the same time as I flutter my eyes at him. “Thank you, alpha.”
“When is your heat due?” he asks again, his fists clenching at his side as he holds himself back from me.
I whimper at the restraint— at the rejection.
Does my alpha not want me? Not recognise me?
I snarl, glowering up at him. “My alpha!” I snap through bared teeth.
His warm brown eyes light up in amusement. “ Your alpha, Emmeline. I am your alpha.”
“My alpha,” I repeat, nodding to myself before whimpering once again. “It aches, alpha.”
His eyes widen, his scent darkening, ripening, as his body prepares him for me. I glance down at his pants, not seeing much of anything, and wonder if his knot is just small or if he’s not as aroused as I am.
“What aches, Emmeline?”
“ I ache.” I press my thighs together, trying to relieve even a fraction of the unbearable need that’s clawing through my veins. I grab his forearm, electric shocks flying between us, and I purr.
I see the exact moment his pupils dilate, when his composure wavers, and he gives in to his rut. He can’t help himself, and he growls low, pressing me to his chest. He’s so hard, so firm, so… big. I reach up, trying to wrap my arms around his neck, but he’s too tall, too in control.
He stiffens, his breathing coming harsher now. His nostrils flare as he takes in the desperation of my scent, the lust, the arousal, the need . But he shudders, and I see the exact moment when he regains his own control.
He gently frees his arm and takes a step back, putting a little bit of distance between us.
“Emmeline, you need to leave. Right now.” His command is firm but gentle like he's afraid of breaking me with just his words.
His massive hands clench at his sides, knuckles white with restraint, and I can see how carefully he holds himself back—the gentle giant warring with his alpha’s need to claim.
I shake my head, my body shivering from the intensity of his scent, from the way he looms, vibrating with tension. I shouldn’t be pushing him, shouldn’t be teasing the alpha within.
But I can’t help myself.
I need him. I want him.
He’s mine.
“My alpha,” I whimper, reaching for him, desperate for contact, again.
His growl rumbles through the air, raising goosebumps along my arms. The room feels too hot and too cold at once, his presence crushing against my skin.
His hands twitch, but he forces himself to stay still. The sheer control it must take is intoxicating.
And all I can think about is him utilising this control with me riding him. How strict he’ll be, how demanding, how dominating.
How he could hold himself back to let me use his cock for my benefit.
How he could tease and taunt me with his knot, not once pushing in, no matter how much I plead and beg.
“I can’t,” he exhales, his voice hoarse, his eyes redder than usual. “I can’t touch you. Not like this.”
My eyes fill with tears, and I don’t know if it’s from sheer need or from the fear of rejection.
I don’t know. I just need him.
“Then don’t,” I plead. “Just—please. I need?—”
A strangled noise leaves him, something torn between a curse and a prayer. His entire body is rigid, his jaw tight, but his scent is changing, thickening with something more primal.
His warm brown eyes darken as he relaxes in front of me. I’m no longer worried that his spine is going to snap from how rigidly he’s holding himself.
Instead, I can see him giving in to the alpha within. He’s accepting our bond, accepting me , and he’s going to help me.
I’m certain of it.
“Let me help you, little omega,” Uri finally murmurs, reaching forward to trail his fingers down the side of my face, even as his alpha presence fills every corner of the room. “I won’t touch you, not properly.”
The words slice through me, sharper than they have any right to be.
For a moment, my brain refuses to process them. Won’t touch me? Won’t help me the way I need?
My omega shrieks in protest, clawing at the inside of my chest, demanding, begging— but I’m not just an omega.
I’ve spent my whole career proving that. That I’m more than biological instincts, more than pheromones and heat and craving an alpha’s knot.
And yet, here I am, shaking for him. Wanting him more than I want my next breath. More than I want my pride.
And he’s saying he won’t touch me?
He won’t give in?
He won’t accept it?
My fingers tremble as I clutch his sleeve. “Uri…” My voice is smaller than I want it to be.
He still doesn’t move.
My throat tightens, a bitter sting coiling in my chest. Maybe he doesn’t want me. Maybe this is one-sided, maybe?—
No.
I see the truth in his eyes.
His control is barely there, pupils blown wide, his scent wild and unstable—spice and sweetness and something dangerously feral underneath it all.
He wants me. He’s just holding back.
“Please,” I beg, the words slipping out without thought. I grab his hand and whimper at the rush of heat between us as I try to get him to touch me where it burns the most. “Please, fuck me, Alpha, please, knot me. I’ll take it so good. I’ll take you so good.”
He gently trails his knuckles up the side of my face this time. “I know, sweet girl, I know. But, trust me, okay? I’m going to lead you over here?—”
The relief is instant. He does want me. He’s got a plan.
He’s a good alpha, and I just need to trust him.
I can do that.
“A hard surface to fuck me on,” I agree quickly, nodding as I tug him towards his desk.
For a brief second, I think he’s going to fight me as if he can resist the temptation. He exhales sharply and lets me lead, his steps weighted with restraint.
He pulls out his chair and sits, then lifts me effortlessly onto his thick thighs. A strangled groan leaves him as my weight settles against him, and, I swear, I feel him tremble beneath me.
Even sitting down, the height difference between us is staggering, and my omega revels in it. His presence surrounds me completely, making me feel small but precious.
Safe… protected.
He’s perfect. Everything I could’ve ever wanted in an alpha. Everything I could ever need.
“Does this work?” he asks gruffly. I nod my head, and he rewards me with a beautifully dazzling smile. His teeth are so white, so… perfect . “What are you looking at, little omega?”
“Your teeth.” I flip my hair over my shoulder, and his eyes are drawn to my bare neck. “I want you to knot me, Alpha, I want you to bite me, to mark me as yours.”
He groans, throwing his head back with a heavy thud against the backrest. “You can’t say things like that, little omega. I’m barely holding onto my control,” he mutters the words, and I can’t tell if he’s talking to me, my omega, or even himself at this point.
He clenches his eyes shut, and I lean forward, rising up on to my knees so that I can press the softest of kisses to the stubble along his jaw. It itches as I move along the shape of his jawline, and he shudders under my touch.
He doesn’t refuse me, but he doesn’t deepen the connection either. I don’t know how much clearer I can be.
I want this. I want him.
Uri’s eyes fly open, a growl on his lips, and I whine. He grabs my hair, fisting it in his hand, and he gently tugs my head back so it’s not as close to his. We’re not eye-level, but the dominance pouring from my alpha is strong enough that I don’t even need his words to obey.
“I need you to stop talking and do what I say, okay?” There’s a growl in his words, a hint of command, but his thumb strokes soothingly along my jaw in such a gentle contradiction.
I find myself nodding instinctively, even though I wish I could argue. I want to beg for him to fill my mouth with something that would stop me disobeying.
If I’m full of his cock, I could never ignore his commands.
“Straddle my thigh.” He spreads his legs and helps adjust me so I’m facing towards him, straddling his left thigh. “Good girl. I want you to ride me—I want you to make yourself come, okay?”
I nod, not able to speak since he asked me not to. I want to touch him, want to have a more intimate connection, but I don’t want him to regret this and take his body away from me.
Not now when he’s finally given in.
“You’re such a good little omega, Emme,” he murmurs. “I won’t touch you—not until you’ve shown me how you like to move, okay? I want you to use me, fuck yourself on me, let me be a tool for your pleasure.”
I moan, inhaling deeply, and press my hands to his chest, using him to keep myself stable. The pleasure that builds inside me at simply touching him is immense, and it’s only heightened as I start to grind on his thigh.
It takes a few tries to get the positioning right, but the moment my clit brushes against him, I shudder, mewling loudly as I rock back and forth at a rapid speed.
“Yes, love, let me hear you. Keep going, baby,” he begs, and I open my eyes, not even sure when they closed. His eyes are open, watching me, and I feel so much heat between us.
My body trembles, my hips not slowing in their movements as I chase the orgasm that’s building.
That my alpha is giving to me.
“Can I touch you properly, Alpha, please,” I beg.
“Where?” He’s trying desperately to fight his alpha, trying to stay in control.
I pity him, really. Giving in to my omega has given this moment the true passion and energy it deserves.
He should feel how intense it is. How much better it is to trust ourselves.
“Chest.” I spit the word out, the lie burning my throat. Of course, I want his cock. I want to feel it. Taste it. Devour it.
“Yes.”
I try to unbutton his shirt, still grinding against his thick thigh, trying desperately to multitask. I whine and whimper, my omega getting frustrated with how hard it is to do both.
I moan as Uri mutters something unintelligible under his breath before gently pushing me back a little.
“No, Alpha, please?—”
“Trust me, little omega,” he demands. He sits forward slightly and rips open his shirt.
“Oh, yes, thank you, yes,” I murmur, my hands touching warm skin—burning fucking skin. I let my fingers wander, trailing over his beautiful abs and defined pecs.
Every time I brush a nipple or get too close to his waistline, he shudders and praises me, and I’m so fucking desperate.
I want him to fuck me.
I need him to knot me.
To bite me and claim me as his.
I want him to spend the next two weeks fucking his seed into me, making me his in every single way.
“Please, Alpha,” I shriek, moving faster and faster, my orgasm so close to its peak.
“What do you need, sweet omega?” he asks, his words husky and dark.
His scent is so fucking intoxicating.
“You!” The word tears from my throat as his hands claim my hips, guiding my movements with bruising intensity. Each touch blazes through me, his dominant scent spiking with possession.
“Come for me, Emmeline,” he snarls, and I don’t know if there’s a command in his words or just a plea, but I don’t fight the waves of pleasure that erupt from me.
His hold stays as tight, but he lets me take control as he grunts and groans. I’m breathless, gasping and shivering, and my eyes widen when the delicious scent of him fills the air.
His pants are soaked, and the knowledge I’ve helped him come, helped him feel good without even touching him, sends another mini-orgasm crashing through me.
Uri holds me as I ride it out, staying close, offering soft, praised murmurs and gentle reassurances. Finally, I collapse against him.
No longer straddling one thigh but his hips, Uri’s wetness presses against my own, and it makes my omega happy.
My head feels empty, and I purr in contentment as he cradles me close.
Both of our breathing is erratic, and yet neither of us speaks as we let ourselves just connect and relax. Uri’s touch is soothing as he runs his hand up and down my side, his chest rumbling in the most calming of ways.
“You never told me what you were doing here,” Uri says, breaking our silence. I don’t know how much time has passed, but my eyes fly open, and I think he’s pulled me out of a restful doze.
I push against his chest, and he lets me pull away. There’s annoyance on his face, and I don’t know why.
I don’t hesitate in moving off his lap, but, of course, I immediately falter.
“Stop.” The command rumbles from his chest, but his touch remains careful as ever. “Let me help you.”
His huge hands span my waist as he lifts me, somehow both gentle and powerful at once. He sets me on his desk like I'm breakable, but his alpha energy floods the space between us.
He scoots forward, and I don’t know how I feel about the fact that he’s practically caged me in. We’re not touching, there’s enough space that I could move my legs, but there’s not a chance I can get down without his permission.
Or at least, I couldn’t get down and leave if he didn’t want me to.
I meet his eyes, and it’s almost as if my brain has frozen into place as all of the panicked thoughts I know are there are just out of reach, and even the desperate wants from my omega are unable to be heard.
Every single part of me is ensnared by Uri, by his dominance, by his intrigue, by his fury.
“Who brought you here?” he asks. There’s a gentleness to his voice that seems to contradict the intensity of his gaze.
“Nobody.”
“You came here alone?” His voice remains gentle, but there’s an edge of alpha concern that makes my omega preen. “In this state?”
I bite my lip, not sure how to respond. My omega is desperate to not upset him—honestly, it’s getting harder to separate her desires with my own—but I also don’t want to lie to him either.
“Oh, Emmeline.” He shakes his head. “Never again, baby girl, never again. Anything could’ve happened to you.”
“I had no choice.” Indignation seeps into my tone.
“You had no choice but to storm into here on a Saturday, mere days away from your heat starting?” He raises a brow at me.
“You denied my time off.” My words are breathy, pathetic, even, when uttered to this absolute Adonis of an alpha.
He stiffens, the warmness in his eyes darkening as the alpha within seems to succumb to the sexual chemistry in the room.
Or maybe that’s just my wishful thinking.
Since his scent shifts from honey-sweet to something sharper, something more protective.
“What?” The single word carries a growl that makes me shiver on the spot. I’m so close to him, so easily able to reach over and touch him, but I don’t.
I force myself to focus, to remember why I came here in the first place. “An email. I got one. Denying my heat leave.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed quickly by something that looks like fury. His hands grip the edge of his desk, and I hear the wood creak under the pressure.
I tense, scared it’ll snap, and I’ll fall through.
“Fuck,” he snarls, then immediately softens his tone when I flinch. His chest rumbles, and he instantly tries to soothe me. “I’m sorry, little omega. It was an automatic system glitch.”
“A glitch ?” The word comes out shrill, anger cutting through my heat-fog. But even as I try to hold onto my indignation, my body betrays me, swaying towards him unconsciously.
“An automatic one.” His voice strains with barely leashed control. “The new system flagged your request during the restructure and I—” A protective growl cuts off his words, the sound rippling through me. “I should have caught it sooner. Should have protected you.”
My omega whimpers, desperate to soothe him this time.
I watch as he visibly struggles to maintain his professional demeanour, his alpha instincts clearly wanting to protect, to solve, to claim. His scent keeps shifting between honey-sweet concern and spicy anger.
It’s quite alluring, if I’m being honest.
“So you didn’t send it?” I ask, relief warring with the growing heat under my skin.
“Never.” The word is fierce, almost angry. “I would never deny an omega their heat leave, especially not—” He cuts himself off again, his agitation clear, as he runs a hand through his dark curls.
“There’s no excuse for this, Emmeline. But I have already contacted HR about this, and new safeguards are being put into place as we speak,” he says, desperately trying to keep his tone calm. “They should be sending out apology emails.”
“Apology emails.” At that, both my omega and I give him a dumbfounded look. “That’s the best they’re going to do? The best you can offer?”
Uri rubs the back of his neck, his expression strained, his body locked tight with tension.
“I need you to trust me that the situation is being handled,” he says, his voice rough, at odds with the way his hands keep clenching. It’s as if he’s physically restraining himself from reaching for me. “I can’t discuss another employee’s disciplinary procedures with you.”
I exhale shakily, still sprawled across the top of his desk, trying to force my mind back to professionalism. My mini-heat may have faded slightly, but my body still burns with need, my slick soaking my underwear, a physical reminder that I haven’t had enough of him yet.
I don’t think I ever will.
I nod once, my movements jerky, my mind barely grasping the words. I should care why I barged in. But all I can think about is him—his scent, his heat, the ache inside me.
My body is still begging, my omega still clawing for his touch.
I should get up. Should force some space between us before I do something reckless.
But there’s something about Uri that makes me far too inclined to give in, to finally let my omega have what she needs for once, than continue trying to fight it.
I wish it was because I’m in pain or struggling too much to not give in. I wish I had some reason other than my biological need, but that’s not true whatsoever.
It’s because I’m so desperate for him—so desperate for more than just his thick thighs. I’d lay down and present right here on his desk if it means that Uri would fuck me properly.
That Uri would knot me, right here, right now.
“I’m sorry, Emmeline,” he says, and I hear the touch of regret in his words.
I stare at him, at the way his muscles are on clear display under his torn dress shirt, at the tight set of his jaw, at the way his pupils are blown wide despite his forced professionalism.
I see the truth in the way his hands flex at his sides—he’s barely hanging on.
Like me, he’s just as desperate to continue what we started.
I swallow hard, my voice almost too quiet to hear. “Uri.”
His entire body locks up at my whisper, his eyes darkening, as he notes the fragile and aching desperation to my words.
He’s already so still, but now he’s frozen like a man staring down his own destruction. His hands clench at his sides, his chest rising and falling in rough, uneven breaths. The muscle in his jaw ticks, his restraint hanging by the thinnest, most fragile thread.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink.
He’s losing the battle he’s having with his alpha. One breath away from breaking.
I watch as the battle rages inside him, the conflict written in every stiff muscle, in the way his nostrils flare as he takes in my scent, in the way his fingers twitch at his sides—like he wants to grab me but is forcing himself not to.
The air is thick, too thick, charged with a tension that pulls tight between us. His scent shifts unpredictably, wild and unstable, sweet and dark all at once. He’s cracking, but still— still —he holds on.
He sways forward a fraction of an inch.
It’s so subtle that I might have imagined it, but my omega knows .
She sees it for what it is—a crack in his armour. An opening. A sign.
I reach for him, my fingers grazing his wrist, just the lightest brush of contact, and— fuck . A violent shudder rips through him.
A guttural growl tears from his throat, shaking the air between us. He jerks away from my touch like it burns, his breathing so harsh now that I think he might actually be in pain.
“I’m, I’m sorry,” I say, stuttering over my words. “I?—”
“Fuck—” his voice is wrecked, shredded, even, and I bite my lip, not sure what to do or how to behave.
I don’t want to upset him or push him over the edge—well, the smart and logical part of me doesn’t. My omega is all for it.
I can see the moment he loses his last shred of control.
His pupils blow wide, his hands flex once, twice, as if making a last, desperate effort to resist.
His nostrils flare, and then his body lunges forward like gravity has finally won.
“Fuck it,” he hisses.
He jumps up from his chair, kicking it back into the wall behind him, and strides towards me. It only takes three steps before he’s spreading my legs and standing right in front of me.
Three fucking steps.
His body cages me in like he was always meant to be here, and he slams his hands to the desk on either side of me. His scent crashes into mine, rich and dizzying, making my head spin.
His presence is an overwhelming force, one that completes me so beautifully, that I can’t help my desperate whine.
The height difference between the two of us feels more pronounced now because, even for an alpha, Uri is tall. But the sheer weight of him makes me feel small. Small, cared-for, safe .
His breath is hot against my skin, the tips of his fingers brushing against my thighs.
“Tell me yes,” he pleads, raw and desperate, no hint of an alpha’s command—just a man on the edge, barely clinging to rationality. “Please, Emmeline, don’t turn me away.”
My breath is stolen, my pulse frantic, as I stare at him. I want to laugh.
Does he really think I have that much self-control? To walk away from him ?
“Yes,” I murmur, tilting my head back to meet his needy gaze. “Please, Alpha, please take the ache away.”
The world stills, just for a brief second, but then he lunges.
There’s not a single hesitation. He grabs my hair, wraps it around his fist, and tugs my head back—just enough to make me gasp—before finally, finally , his lips crash into mine.
I don’t know which one of us is louder—my purrs or his growl of surrender.