40. Sterling
40
Sterling
M y mate has been quiet all morning.
Not the prickly kind of quiet. Not angry or avoiding anything. Just… thoughtful. Settled in that way she gets when she’s already made a decision and is waiting for the right moment to say it out loud.
I don’t push. I’ve come to find how pointless it is.
At twenty-five weeks pregnant, my omega is a whirlwind. She moves at her own pace, and nobody can keep up. Not in the office, not in the bedroom, and certainly not in her emotions.
“Can you do me a favour?” Emme asks.
“Of course.”
She glances up and says, “Can you check on the house this week?”
I raise a brow, cautious. “Check on it how?”
“Just… make sure everything’s okay with it. Structurally. Maybe call in that contractor you trust and just assess it,” she says, biting her lip.
I pause. Because I’ve been checking on it. Quietly. Regularly. Under the guise of needing her pens or her favourite planner stickers, but really, just because I didn’t want it to sit too empty. Just in case she changed her mind, and needed a night away.
I don’t want her going back to somewhere musty, or freezing cold. I’ve kept it up, just to make it easy for her.
Emme notices the shift in my scent before I can hide it, and she groans. “I want to put it on the market. I’ve heard it’s quite good these days.”
Lies. Whoever told her that, either hasn’t tried buying a house in this market, or hasn’t tried selling one. But I don’t care. If what she’s saying is true, I’ll give her house away for a quid, if it means we get to keep her.
“You’re putting it on the market?” I ask, slow and careful, like if I move too fast she’ll vanish. “You’re ready to let it go?”
Her hands slide instinctively over her stomach, and my chest tightens at the sight. She’s so radiant like this. Soft. Glowing with purpose. With ours .
And like fate itself is answering me, the baby kicks against her palm. Her whole face lights up, as the baby moves inside her. We still don’t know whether we’re having a little boy or a little girl, and the anticipation is killing me.
Emme loves it though. The surprise. The mystery.
I personally think she’s a sadist who loves torturing me.
“Yeah,” she says, with a bright smile. “I think I’m exactly where I should be.”
My throat tightens.
I want to scoop her into my arms and never let her go. Instead, I nod once, trying not to let the relief crack me wide open. I never knew how badly it was bothering me that she still had this escape, this area to disappear off to, until now.
“I don’t need the backup plan anymore,” she says, so gently it nearly guts me.
And that’s it. That’s all I need.
I dive over the coffee table without thinking, landing beside her in a heartbeat. She lets out a surprised squeak as I haul her into my arms.
“Sterling—” she starts, but I cut her off with a kiss.
She melts into me, like she always does. Like this here is home. Her lips are warm and sure against mine, and my body responds before my mind catches up. I lay her back on the sofa, cupping her face with one hand, the other braced beside her belly to keep my weight off her.
She shivers under me, fingers curling into my shirt.
“I’ve wanted to do this all week,” I murmur against her mouth. “But your damn ‘no sex in the workplace’ rule has been a big hindrance.”
She blinks up at me, a little dazed. “And now?”
I kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, trailing down to her neck where her scent is strongest.
“Now I know you’re mine… and that we’ve got the house to ourselves.” I smirk at her, reaching down to brush a soft kiss to her lips, not intending for it to be anything more than a peck.
But she arches into me, sighing into my mouth like she’s been waiting for this as long as I have. Maybe longer. Knowing her pregnancy hormones—she probably has been.
I press my palm gently to her bump, feeling the heat of her through the cotton of her dress. My baby kicks against my hand, and I grimace. Can’t they go to sleep now, so I can ravage their mother?
Wow, that was an awful thing to think.
“How are you feeling?” I murmur, softly brushing the hair out of her face.
Her smile turns wicked. “Twenty-five weeks pregnant, slightly swollen, desperate for a wee, and outrageously horny.”
I huff a laugh against her neck, biting gently just next to her scent gland. She groans, rocking her hips and I grin.
“You know, I’m trying to be romantic here,” I tease, tapping her nose. “You’re being a cheeky little minx.”
“Aptly named me then didn’t you?”
I grin. “I did. My little storm. Perfect, messy, and dangerous.”
“You kissed me like you missed me.” Her voice drops to a whisper, her eyes darkening, as she pulls me closer by my shirt. “I want you to keep doing that. Lots. ”
She’s going to ruin me.
I trail my lips along the curve of her throat, pausing to inhale her scent—sweet and grounding, with just a hint of omega need. It coils around me so warm and addictive. It calls to something instinctive in me.
A need to please , to soothe , to worship .
I want to fucking love her.
“I’ve missed you every second of every day you weren’t here,” I murmur. “Even when you were only down the hallway. Do you know how much it kills me when we’re at work and you’re a full floor away from me?” I fan my face. “It’s torture.”
Her fingers find my jaw and tilt my face up so I’m looking into the blue orbs of hers that undo me every single time she flutters her eyelashes.
“Then show me,” she says, voice soft and sure. “Make me feel how much you missed me.”
She doesn’t have to ask twice.
I ease her back fully, guiding her until she’s reclining comfortably on the sofa. I adjust the cushions, tucking one behind her back, another beneath her knees. She rolls her eyes at the fussing, but doesn’t stop me.
She knows if she does, I’ll withhold sex until she’s willing to behave.
For a hormonal, pregnant, sexual omega it’s the ultimate punishment.
“You know I’m not made of glass,” she says, her tone dry and mocking.
“Tell that to my anxiety,” I reply, undoing the buttons of her dress slowly just to taunt her. I planned on only doing a few this way before ripping it off, but taking my time makes me feel like I’m unwrapping a gift.
The most perfect gift to ever exist.
She’s breathtaking.
Fuller than before, skin glowing with warmth and life. The delicate swell of her breasts, the curve of her belly—it’s all her. All ours . Every inch of her is precious. Not because she’s fragile, but because she’s home .
She watches me with something close to amusement as I slide her dress off her shoulders, exposing her inch by inch. I kiss my way down the valley of her chest, pausing to mouth gently at the underside of her breast before moving lower. Her breath catches, and I glance up.
“Still okay?” I ask, voice husky but controlled.
She nods, but then her hand comes up to brush mine. “Just… slower than usual. I’m already a little sensitive.”
“Perfect,” I breathe. “Then I’ll take my time.”
I kneel between her legs and hook my thumbs under the waistband of her knickers, watching her face for any hesitation. There’s none—just anticipation, soft and thick in the air between us.
She lifts her hips slightly to help me pull them off, and I trail kisses along the inside of her thigh, letting my stubble scrape just enough to make her shiver.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, letting my fingers run gently along the crease of her hip, avoiding the places I know she’s aching for—drawing it out, making her feel adored, not just desired.
She squirms. “Sterling…”
“Yes, love?”
“I swear to all that is holy, if you tease me?—”
I lean forward and kiss her. Really kiss her. Deep, consuming, with all the reverence I’ve been holding back for days. Weeks.
Her hands fist in my shirt, and I let her pull me up over her, bracing myself carefully to avoid putting weight where I shouldn’t.
“Want me to stop?” I ask again, voice barely above a whisper.
She growls—a low, frustrated sound that goes straight to my cock. “I want you inside me , Sterling.”
I groan into her neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Then die fast,” she whispers, breath hot against my cheek. “But fuck me slow.”
Her demand pulls a growl from somewhere deep in my chest—low, instinctive, not alpha, but still pure need. I fumble with my belt, only half-coherent as I try to kick my trousers off without knocking into her. She giggles at my clumsiness, but there’s hunger in her eyes now, the kind that melts every rational thought I’ve ever had.
Once I’m down to my boxers, I pause.
I take her in again—her flushed skin, the way her bump rises proudly between us, the glisten of slick already pooling at her entrance. Her body knows me. Wants me.
My hand drifts down to her thigh, then up, brushing the slick with my thumb just to make her gasp.
“Fuck, little storm,” I murmur, kissing just below her ear. “You’re already dripping.”
Her legs part further, her knees bending instinctively to cradle my hips. “Then do something about it , beta.”
The way she says that— beta —never mocking, never inferior, just a truth wrapped in trust. She doesn’t need an alpha’s rut or a bite to feel claimed. She has me. And that’s enough.
I shift lower and guide myself to her entrance, sliding through her slick once, twice, watching her tremble under me. She’s so open like this—emotionally, physically, completely mine.
I push in slow.
Her mouth drops open on a soft moan, head tipping back as her fingers claw at my shoulders. I go still once I’m fully seated inside her, letting us both breathe through it.
“Okay?” I ask, already breathless.
She nods, eyes glassy. “Better than okay.”
I kiss her again, slower this time, and start to move. Shallow thrusts at first, careful and deliberate, just enough to keep her hovering right on that edge.
She arches beneath me, chasing more, but I keep the rhythm slow. Teasing.
“Sterling,” she warns.
“What?” I grin, nipping at her lower lip. “This is slow.”
“You know what I meant.” Her voice is breathy now, each word a whimper.
“I do.” I kiss her again. “And I’m going to make you come like this. Slow. Sweet. Until you forget why you ever needed a backup plan.”
Her eyes flutter shut as I thrust deeper. Her scent blooms in the room, rich and warm, filled with that omega tang I’ll never get tired of. I bury my face in her neck, groaning as her walls clench around me.
She’s so close already—I can feel it.
So I shift slightly, angling just right, and her entire body jolts beneath me.
“There,” she gasps. “Right there—again.”
I obey, my pace still slow but now deliberate, hitting that spot with every thrust. She breaks apart with a cry that has my name tangled in it, and I hold her through it, murmuring nonsense against her skin, grounding her.
When her body stops trembling, I move again—deeper this time, chasing my own release.
“You want more?” I rasp.
“Always,” she says, tugging me down for a kiss. But as my tongue brushes against hers, her heat sizzles out. She adjust so we’re cuddled together, in the hazy warmth of it all.
Her scent is everywhere—sweet and rich with satisfaction, even a little smug. She’s glowing, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bitten. My omega. My mate.
I shift slightly to press a kiss to her bump, whispering a quiet hello to the baby who just got jostled by a whole lot of movement and hormones.
Emme hums, threading her fingers through my hair lazily. “That was… really good.”
“Really good?” I fake-offend, nudging her hip with mine. “That’s what I get after I gave you at least three orgasms and emotionally validated your housing decisions?”
She laughs, soft and sleepy, and I’m helpless to do anything but fall in love with her all over again. I roll onto my side and tuck her close, running slow fingers up and down her spine, feeling her shiver and sigh.
“Don’t fall asleep yet,” I murmur against her temple. “I want to ask you something important.”
“Mm?”
“Are we going to head over to your place now?” I ask, teasingly.
She groans, dramatic and immediate, then buries her head under the pillow.
That’s the answer I expected.
She kicks me—lightly, playfully—and I laugh, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back into me. Her skin is still warm from exertion, her scent a calming balm over every nerve in my body.
After sex, Emme wants to sleep. She’s always so cuddly, so beautifully warm, and content. Like the fight in her finally goes quiet and she lets herself just be .
Me? I’m buzzing.
Keyed up, every nerve on high alert in the best way.
I think it’s the endorphin hit I get from her. Her scent. Her body. Her everything. As a beta, I experience her moods and hormones differently than the alphas. They get possessive. Territorial.
I just get high on her.
She peeks out from beneath the pillow, her lashes fluttering heavy. “If you love me, you’ll let me nap.”
I kiss her nose. “I’ll always let you nap.”
“But?”
“But I might lie here and stare at you creepily for a bit.”
She snorts. “Only a bit?”
“Well, until I get bored and go make snacks.”
Her eyes open fully at that. “What kind of snacks?”
“Pregnancy-approved. Omega-approved. Possibly also Sterling-approved, which means nothing green.”
She rolls onto her back, eyes full of mischief. “So… bread?”
“Fancy bread,” I counter. “With cheese. Maybe a fruit or two, just so we can tell the baby we’re responsible parents.”
She laughs, but there’s something quieter behind it now. Her fingers find mine, weaving between them.
“You’re going to make a stupidly good dad,” she says, soft and sincere. Like it slipped out before she meant it to.
I freeze.
Then I look at her, really look. There’s a softness in her expression I’ve only seen a few times. When she’s vulnerable. When she’s safe.
I lean down and kiss her, slow and sure. “I just want to be good to you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“You are,” she says. “You’re more than good.”
I press my forehead to hers and close my eyes. This woman—this omega—chose me . Not because I overwhelmed her scent match instincts. Not because I fought my way to the top of a pack.
Because I made her feel safe . Loved.
“Don’t cry,” she warns, teasing.
“I’m not crying,” I say, voice thick. “I’m emotionally moist.”
“Oh my goodness, don’t dare use that word again,” she groans, gagging into her pillow.
I grin and kiss her again, finally deciding to behave, in case she decides to kick me out. “Go to sleep, Emme. I’ll bring you snacks.”
“You always do.”
I always will.