Page 4 of His Prodigal Alpha

He eyed the door behind me before setting his beseeching gaze on mine again. His brown eyes were wide and flecked with gold. They were so mesmerizing; it was what had drawn me to him to begin with.

“Don’t freak out, but…I’m a shifter. A puma shifter, to be specific. And if that’s too weird or it’s a deal-breaker, I’ll just—” Damon moved, edging around me towards the door, but I looped my arm around his waist, tugging him back into position in front of me. I stifled a chuckle as he blew out a breath to clear away the lock of dark hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Shifter, huh?” Theoretically, I knew they existed, but I didn’t think I’d ever met one before. Well, not one who had come out and told me what they were. There had been a lot of news about shifters reappearing in society after a freaking dragon had brought a building down in Manhattan. That had only happened a few months earlier, and sensationalism was still running rife in the media. Nevertheless, I didn’t buy into the rhetoric that shifters couldn’t be trusted. I figured they were like most people: there would be both good eggs and bad. “That’s neat.”

Damon didn’t reply.

I cocked my head at him, smiling as gently as I could, considering the way my jeans were tented obscenely. All I wanted to do was get inside him. I couldn’t care less that he wasn’t entirely human. With long, dark hair and those gold-flecked eyes, he was as pretty as he was witty, and his lips tasted like ambrosia. In the moment, that was all that mattered. “There a reason why you had to tell me? I wouldn’t have known if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, you would have.” He squirmed on the spot. “I’m what shifters call an omega. It’s like a secondary gender, I guess. I…well, to cut to the chase, my body produces slick to assist with…” His blush deepened and he cleared his throat, tucking his hair back behind his ears. He was adorable, especially when he refused to meet my gaze any longer. “Anyway, when I get really horny, I get wet.”

I blinked. “Wet? Like—”

“—I’ve prepped withwaytoo much lube?” he finished for me, nodding as he laughed nervously. “It doesn’t normally happen with humans…or often, really…but I, um, it’s been a while, so I must be more worked up than I thought.” He cringed. “I get it if it’s too weird. I can just leave. Just…just don’t freak out and beat me to a pulp or anything, okay?”

My heart clenched. Just what kind of men had he been associating with if he had to ask me such a thing? “No, kitten. I wouldn’t ever hurt you like that.”

It was a stupidly intimate thing to say when we were only going to hook up and part ways, but I couldn’t say nothing, could I?

“So, um…” Damon finally looked back up at me. His cheeks were still bright pink, and his eyes were still blown wide with lust. My dick, which had started to flag under the more serious tone of the conversation, bounced right back into action at the blatant need in his eyes. “Are you still in? Or should I go?”

“Oh, I’m definitely looking forward to beingin,” I replied playfully, offering him a wolfish grin.

He rolled his eyes, but the flush of his cheeks and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed gave his excitement away.

The bathroom stall we were in was a narrow, closed room,with a toilet on one end of the space and a wall mounted sink on the other. It was cleaner than the men’s room, potentially because it wasn’t used as frequently, but it was still kind of dingy.

I closed the space between us and kissed him again, my body demanding contact. I’d never felt quite as desperate to be with someone before, even though I’d had my fair share of one-night stands and impromptu bar hookups over the years. This felt different. I didn’t think I could walk away from this opportunity if I tried.

Damon melted into my renewed embrace, as though he felt the same relief from reconnecting. His fingers scrabbled at my belt buckle, and I chuckled into his mouth.

“Need help with that, kitten?”

He nodded and rocked his hardness into mine. “Please. I can’t wait a minute longer.I need…”

The sheer desperation in his voice went straight to my cock. When was the last time anyone had wanted me so badly? It did wonderful things to my ego, and I was determined to reward him for making me feel so damn vital.

“I’ve got you,” I promised, getting my pants unbuckled and unzipped in what had to be record time. I moaned as he took my exposed cock in hand and stroked me without a second’s hesitation. There were some perks to going commando at times like these. “Easy, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Gotta get your jeans off, too.”

“Hurry,” he begged, rubbing his face in the crook of my neck. His skin was still feverishly heated with arousal and perhaps a hint of that earlier embarrassment. It was adorable.

I squeezed his denim covered ass before I reached between us to fumble with his button and fly, trying not to be toodistracted by his hand still working my dick. “You’re gonna have to help me get these painted-on jeans of yours down, kitten.”

He whined with frustration, an almost mewling sound, but released his hold on me to do as I’d asked. I watched him hook his fingers into the material and then shimmy the pants over the slight curve of his hips, then further still down his slender thighs. He turned around in the tight space of the room and bent over, easing the jeans all the way to his ankles. My mouth watered when I discovered the jockstrap he was wearing, practically delivering access to his waiting hole on a silver platter.

Unable to resist, I reached out to squeeze the perfect, lightly fuzzed peach he had presented to me, trailing my fingers between his cheeks, unsurprised to find him slicked up for me. He’d told me to expect as much, after all.

I groaned and teased at his hole with the pad of my index finger, my cock dribbling to find him opening for me with almost no resistance.

“Yes, please, get inside me…” Damon begged and pushed back onto my probing digit, practically sucking the finger into his body with a pleased sigh. He was hot and wet inside as promised, almost like he’d been prepping with copious amounts of lube. He wriggled and squirmed, seeking stimulation. “Rex, please!”

I startled at the sound of my name falling from his lips. Nothing had ever sounded so right before. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a matching sense of urgency to be inside him.

“Bend over. Brace yourself on the sink.”

My kitten scrambled to obey, leaning on the sides of thewall-mounted porcelain bowl with each of his forearms. He spread his legs as far as the jeans around his ankles would allow and his enticingly dusky-pink hole glistened with the evidence of his arousal. I used two fingers to breach him this time, testing his limits. They slid inside with the same ease as the first.

“Fuck,” I growled out, delighting in the way he thrust back onto my fingers with abandon.

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