3. Madi #2
After preheating the oven, I slide in the lasagna so it’ll be hot by the time he returns. Soon after my arrival, he walks in, throws his keys on the counter, and scoops me up in his arms.
Laughing, I exclaim, “Hunt, you’re so sweaty!”
His tousled blond hair is nearly dripping, but he still smells delicious. Not his real scent, of course—blockers ensure that—but a manly alpha one. Fancy imported soap, salt from his run, and a hint of sweetness.
Hunter spins me around a few times, which only makes me laugh harder, before gently placing me on the ground. He doesn’t let me go, though, wrapping his arms around my waist. His joy for life is infectious.
“Why are you so wet?” I ask.
“Traffic was a mess. It was much faster to run the few miles here. I couldn’t wait to see you.”
Of course he would run here. Touched by his words, I lean up to kiss him and he eagerly accepts my silent thank-you. It’s slow and sweet. Really sweet.
I lick his bottom lip. “I can’t wait to try these donuts.”
“A friend of mine is letting me use one of his catering spaces to work on some recipes. I can’t say much now, but I have a major business collaboration coming up and it’s going to rock.”
“You’re going to crush it.”
He looks so pleased with himself. “Thank you! How was your day, Sophie?”
For security reasons, I never give out my real name. Hunter knows me as Sophie. Zachary calls me Emilie. I think they know it’s a fake name, but they know what this is.
Only real relationships call for real names.
“Fine, lots of cooking.” It's a lie, but it adds to the illusion he is paying for, which in my experience is all alphas care about, more than the truth.
He closes his eyes, as if imagining the food he’ll be eating soon. “I can’t fucking wait. I’m so glad you’re here. Shower with me?” he asks with ridiculously wide eyes that remind me of a puppy. How can anyone say no to that?
I pretend to think about it. “Oh, alright.”
“Yes!” He does a fist pump in the air as if he’s just won some championship game, and once again, I find myself in the air as he throws me over his muscular shoulder.
“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. I need 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.
Eventually, he puts his phone down and says, “I’d like to talk to you about something.” My stomach twists, knowing what he’s about to say. “So, we’ve been together for almost a year.”
I sit up too quickly, knocking over the bowl of popcorn in the process. “I actually need to go.”
Not again.
Always my heat.
Always.
Panic bleeds into his handsome face. “What’s wrong?” He tries to reach for me but I manage to avoid his touch. “Sophie, it’s late. You don’t have to leave. Stay here, we can get breakfast in the morning. There’s a place downstairs that has the fluffiest pancakes.”
Every other time an alpha brings up my heat, I pretend to make plans with him till I can end the date as early as possible and never see him again, but I can’t lie to Hunter like that. His earnest expression of concern is too sweet, too honest.
I hate the frown he wears and the way his eyebrows knit together as if he’s racking his brain for what he possibly could have done wrong to make me leave like this.
It’s just the way it is.
When I start looking for new clients after my heat, I’m only going to select boring alphas with more money than personality, ones obsessed with their golf scores and crypto. Alphas who understand this is mutually beneficial and based on temporary factors.
Alphas who don’t look at me like that.
I can tell he wants to say more, do more, but he’s not the type of guy who will push. I gather my belongings, flinging them in the oversized purse I brought. Hunter follows me to the door, shoulders slumped.
When I turn to face his hesitant smile, I add, “I had a really good time tonight.”
Hope returns to his eyes and he says, “I’ll be gone next week for work but I can see you soon.” He stares at the ceiling as if collecting his words before looking at me again. “If I did anything—”
“You didn’t,” I say quickly. “This has been fun, as always. You’re a really great guy, Hunt.”
That boyish grin is real again. “Maybe we can get dinner next week? My friend opened up a great new restaurant. I think you might like it. I know they have all your favorite foods.”
My stomach twists at the reminder of another alpha like him. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.” I reach up to kiss his cheek, wondering if he can sense the lie I’ve whispered against his skin.
He leans into it, but when he pulls back, he scans my face, his eyebrows tugged down, as if he can tell I’ve already retreated and there’s nothing he can do to get me back.