She points toward the small, partially finished room we partitioned off last week. It's the only space with a working door and a separate ventilation unit. She pulls herself out of my grip, her movements jerky and stiff. She walks toward the office without looking back. I follow her, the heavy, sweet scent of her need dragging me forward like a hook in my gut.
She enters the small room and waits for me to follow. The second I step inside, she closes the door and turns the lock. The click of the bolt sounds final in the quiet space. The office is bare, containing only a desk and a stack of file boxes, but the air is cooler here. It smells like her. It smells like the honey and vanilla I dream about.
Zora turns to face me. She takes off her hard hat and drops it on the floor. The golden-blonde puffs of her hair are dusty, her white t-shirt clinging to her skin. She looks at me with a raw and desperate intensity.
"I want to take you up on your offer of whatever, Dameon, but on my terms."
I'm almost scared this is a dream. I stay rooted to the floor, my heart thudding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I keep my head bowed, eyes fixed on the dusty toes of my boots, even as her scent saturates the small office. A heavy sweetness cloys at the back of my throat; Heat hasn't claimed her yet, but the fire looms close. She moves toward me, the soft sound of her breathingproviding the only noise in the room. The cooler air from the ventilation unit fails to dampen the fire rising in my blood.
"Kneel, Dameon, right now."
I sink to my knees on the cool concrete. I keep my hands resting on my thighs, knuckles white with the effort to not reach for her. I wait for her to set the pace. My breathing hitches in short, shallow bursts as she steps into the space between my knees.
She reaches out, fingers trembling as she tilts my chin up. Color floods her brown skin, the ashen cast yielding to a deep mahogany glow. Her eyes widen, pupils swallowing the gold of her irises. She looks at me with a desperate hunger that mirrors my own.
"I need the noise to stop, Dameon."
She reaches down for the hem of my tank top and yanks it over my head with frantic movements before tossing the sweat-stained fabric onto the desk. Her focus shifts to the button of my work pants next. I stand just long enough to let the heavy denim pool around my ankles and kick them off before I sink back down, stripped to nothing. I wait on my knees, ready for her.
Zora pulls her shirt over her head and kicks off her boots. She unbuttons her work pants next, pushing them down along with her underwear until she steps out of them.
My breath stalls in my chest as she stands before me, naked and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. She looks incredible. She backs up to the cheap black desk and hops onto it, her legs dangling off the side as she leans back on her elbows.
"I can't think, Dameon, I need you to make the noise stop. Taste me."
I move between her legs, my large hands gripping her thighs to pull her to the edge of the wood. I lower my head, my mouth finding the soft skin of her inner thigh and kissing my way up toher pussy. I start slow, dragging my tongue in long, wet stripes that make her gasp and arch her back against the table.
My cock throbs with a pulsing pressure, the base already beginning to thicken with my knot. I keep my hands anchored on her legs. I focus entirely on her pleasure. A low, vibrating moan escapes my throat as I sink into her. She tastes of honey and the salt of her sweat. I feel like I've won the lottery just being allowed to touch her like this. I won't throw this chance away by overstepping or taking what hasn't been offered.
"Dameon... oh, Dameon," she whispers, her fingers tangling in my hair.
Hearing my name on her lips as I work her toward a peak pulls another moan from my throat. My own need reaches an agonizing height, the ache in my length nearly unbearable, but I refuse to touch myself. I focus on her.
I circle her entrance with rhythmic, deep movements until she's sobbing. She pulls on my hair, her hips bucking against my face in a desperate search for friction. I give it to her. I increase the pressure, my tongue flicking against her clit with a precision I honed during those long Saturday sessions. I track every twitch of her muscles. I know the exact sound she makes right before she breaks, pushing her higher and higher until she's shaking.
Her slick flows from her pussy as it spasms with her release and I lap it up, feeling like a starved man. After a moment, she stills and gently pushes my head back. She pushes back with less aggression than she did the other day, and it gives me hope that with time, she’ll let us back in her life fully as her pack and Alphas.
"Stand up, Dameon." Her voice cracks.
I pull back, my face wet and my pulse racing, as I stand to my full height. Zora slides off the desk, but she doesn't stay on her feet. She surprises me by dropping to her knees on the floor in front of me, her golden-blonde puffs messy and wild. She looksup, her eyes tracking the rigid length of my cock before they meet my gaze.
She reaches out, her small hands wrapping around my base, her palms warm against my skin. Fingers squeeze and slide, milking the length of me before she takes me into her mouth. The sensation almost sends me through the roof. She works me with a frantic intensity, her tongue swirling around the head and tracing along the sensitive underside. One hand remains at my base while the other moves in sync with her mouth; the firm pressure provides the relief I've craved for weeks. The base of my shaft bulges, the knot beginning its slow build as it pulses against her lips. Her eyes never leave mine as she watches me struggle for control. I growl, my hands finding her shoulders to anchor myself as she drives me to the very edge of my restraint.
Just as the pressure hits its peak, she pulls back. She hitches a breath, her hands tightening on my thighs as she sags onto her heels. Her shoulders heave. The frantic energy drains away, leaving a heavy, still desperation in the small space.
She looks up at me, her lips wet. "I need you to be Saturday. Make me not think, only feel."
I stare down at her, my shadow swallowing her slight frame. "Since you want to stop thinking, stop talking. Just feel this, Omega."
I lift her from the floor and settle her back onto the edge of the desk. I spread her legs wide, my large hands holding her knees back. I move between her thighs, the rigid length of my cock finding the slick warmth of her entrance. The thickening bulge at my base presses hard against her opening as I drive home in one slow, deep thrust that bottoms out against her cervix. She lets out a wrecked and beautiful scream that echoes off the office walls.
"Yes, Alpha." She whimpers, her eyes rolling back.
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me flush against her as she leans back onto the desk. I settle into a heavy, relentless rhythm, the slap of my thighs against her filling the small room. My hands dig into her hips. My cock hits the edge of her cervix, the knot at my base stretching her pussy wider with every shove. Sweat slicks our skin as the friction increases.
I watch her face as she finds her release, her head falling back as the first waves of the climax hit her. The pressure in my knot grows, I’m so close. I wait for her signal; until her pussy clamps down on me in a frantic, spasming rhythm.
"Take my knot, Omega," I growl, my voice raw and commanding.
