Page 26 of Heat Clinic

She waves a hand in the air. “It’s fine. Here’s the paperwork for you to fill out. We already have a copy of your driver’s license and a basic background check, but now we need you to sign off on a more in-depth one and give us permission to have your medical records released. If you can get us a record of your finances this afternoon and, pending everything coming back good, you can probably meet with the omega this evening.”

“Is this… normal?” I never had to go through any of this with Tom. Perhaps it’s because he’s a beta?

“Since you met through the clinic, yes. If you’d had a chance encounter in public and got to know one another that way, then no. But any alpha who uses a clinic or omega center to find their packmate or mates must submit to the standards the government set. It’s primarily meant to keep omegas safe and prevent any sort of human trafficking. Think of how easy it would be for an alpha to walk in, claim they’ve found their omega, and then walk out with them if we weren’t thorough. The omega will have access to these records, but she may not even want or ask to look at them. But knowing it’s been collected and added to your file… It helps. You’re a stranger to her, Mr. Orello. That’s a big change to adjust to.”

“I see. Can I at least know her name now?”

Mary leans back and smiles. “It’s Emily.”

Emily.

I choke back the purr her name summons when I think about it. It tries to rumble up through my chest anyway. I clear my throat to cover it. “Thank you.”

She hands me a clipboard and pulls a stack of papers from her drawer. “Here. Fill these out.”

That’s a thick stack. I take the pen from my jacket pocket and click it, then get to work. Mary finishes her lunch while I fill them out, alternating between tapping on her keyboard and reading her screen. The whoosh of her emails coming in and going out is constant. When I’ve finished signing my life away and divulging every personal detail, from shoe size to criminal history and medical history before and after puberty, I tuck my pen away and hand the papers back to her.

I pull my phone from my pocket and start a message to my accountant. “I can have my finance summary sent over within the hour. What’s easier, fax or email?”

“Either is fine. Here’s my card.” She grabs a business card from the holder on her desk and hands it to me, and I text both to my accountant.

“Great! I’ll ask them to come and take you into the back, where you can give your sample.” She picks up her phone and dials a number from memory. “Mr. Orello is ready.”

A moment later, a nurse in scrubs appears in the doorway and motions for me to follow him. The hallway is quiet despite what I know is going on just a few doors away. Soundproofed. Is she being rutted by other alphas now? A spark of jealousy catches me off guard. It’s not my business if she is. I mean nothing to her, even if I very much want to. But an alpha's possessiveness isn’t rational. The thought of anyone but my pack touching a single hair on her head makes my fist clench until my nails press half-moons into my palm.

“In here. There are movies and magazines that you can use if you’d like. No lotion, lube, or saliva, please. It alters the quality of the sample.”

The dark wooden rack of colorful printed magazines he mentions contains a plethora of pornography magazines. Slickzone. Cumsluts. Knotty & Naughty. There’s a white-topped plastic jar sitting on the counter along with an unopened, personal-size cardboard box of tissues.

It’s clear they’re not taking blood like they did with the STD panel. “You want a semen sample?”

“It’s best if you can fill the cup with at least five milliliters. When was your last emission?”

“Thirteen and a half hours ago.” When Emily squeezed my knot so tight, her beautiful pussy sucked the seed right out of my balls.

The nurse makes a mark on the chart.

“What’s this for?” I ask.

“Some omegas are looking for alphas for breeding, so we run a standard semen analysis to ensure fertility. You can pay for a genetic screening if you’re interested in knowing your chances of any hereditary concerns.”

The idea of rutting my omega until she’s pregnant almost makes me finally lose it. “Yes. Run it and send me the bill.”

He makes another mark on the chart and leaves the folder on the counter, then shuts the door behind him on his way out. Once he’s gone, I grab the cup and peel its wrapper open, then unscrew the lid and set it back down.

Well then.

My cock is already half hard as I undo my pants and pull it out, giving it a stroke from root to tip before running my pinky on the sensitive underside of my crown the way I like it. I can’t wait to teach her how to please me. How to jerk my cock and lick me. My hand moves, tugging, to keep pace with my thoughts.

I fantasize about her beautiful cunt and the way she dripped for me as I touched her. Her drizzly sweet lemon cookie scent.God, I fucking love lemons.I can never order a lemon wedge in my ice water again without thinking about sucking her perfect, juicy cunt.

Pre-cum leaks from my tip, splattering into the cup as I drip over it while I masturbate and think about her sweet little moans. The way her thighs trembled whenever she got close to coming. How she thought she could ever hide it from me. How her pheromones perfumed the room, drowning out all the other rutting, grunting alphas and creaming, whimpering omegas.

That pulsing, tugging of my loins drives an ache through me as I edge myself to the point of orgasm, drawing it out and letting it fade before building it again.

I’m going to fill this cup.

I’m going to put as many babies in my omega as she wants.

---