Page 124 of Ruled By The Alpha

I make my way past the kitchen and head for my bedroom. A room she cleans and organizes, which means her scent is allover… everything. God, I’m going to lose her if I can’t be a fucking professional.

The moment I get to my room, I slam the door shut and lock it. Stalking to my closet, I rip my jeans down, take out a pocket pussy and shove my dick into it, hard. I’m leaking so much I don’t even need lube, pre-cum dripping out of the pussy and onto the floor below. I’ll have to ask her to clean it. But I’ll worry about that later.

Gasping, I hunch over a shelf and begin punching my hips hard and fast into the toy. Cilia inside tickle every thick inch of my cock as I grunt and moan. The scent of my arousal mixes with the scent of my fucking assistant, until orgasm hits me, my neck straining as an inhuman roar releases from my chest. A small part of my brain reminds me she can probably hear me, but that fills me with a strange sense of pride.

I come and come into the pocket pussy, filling it so full that my spend drips steadily onto the floor, coating my hands as I slow my rhythm, sliding the toy up and down my still-hard cock. Groaning, I wait for the heat in my body to dissipate, but if anything it ramps up until I’m ready to go again. And I do, twice more, until I’ve covered my closet in cum and left my brain a wild mess of tangled, incoherent thoughts.

I’m so off my schedule right now. And horrified at the mess on my floor. And angry about this omega mating bullshit. I don’t know what that means really, but it sounds really fucking permanent, which I don’t do.

“Evangeline,” I bark into the nearest audio box on the wall.

“Yes, Alistair?” her voice floats through the system.

I huff out a displeased groan before depressing the button to respond. “There’s a mess in my closet. Come clean it please?”

“On my way,” she answers, clicking off.

I head to the bathroom and listen for her footsteps. Washing out the pocket pussy, I clean myself quickly and throw the towelover the mess on the floor. I’m way off schedule and I’ve got to fix that ASAP. Otherwise I’d clean this myself. As it is, I’m horrified and angry.

Evangeline pushes up against my door, but finding it locked, calls out for me. “Alistair, can you let me in, please?”

I double over with intense need at the way she says ‘please’. Because all I can think now is how much I’d like to hear those words fall from her pretty lips in other ways. ‘Please don’t stop,’ or maybe, ‘Please stop,’ or even, ‘Please fuck me.’

God, I am in so much trouble.

Chapter 5

Evangeline

When Alistair opens the door, he looks flushed and irritated.

“Are you alright?” I ask, taking a step toward him. He takes a step back, distancing himself. I’m sure he’s feeling weird about what happened in the kitchen. I’m feeling weird and hot. Desperate to get to my room and take care of things, but he messaged me right as I finished cleaning the kitchen.

“I, uh. I made a mess in the closet, but I’m off my schedule and I need to get back to work. Can you clean it?”

“Yes, of course,” I whisper. Getting off schedule throws him into a tizzy, so for Alistair, this is a big deal. “Go,” I encourage him. “I’ve got this.”

Nodding quickly, he leaves without another word. I watch his retreating back, the way enormous muscles stretch and pull under his too-tight shirt. He continues to grow slowly, which is odd to me. But it’s not like we can call up a doctor to ask questions about what’s happening to him. We could call his brother, though. It might be time for me to give Mitchell a ring myself.

Sighing, I turn into the room and head for the closet. Looking around quickly, nothing looks amiss until I glance down at the floor. There’s a hand towel. When I pick it up, I see it. Jizz. Like, oh my God, bucket loads of it. So much that I can’t believe it all came out of one person.

My eyes widen as I sit back on my heels, holding the towel away from me. So the thing happened in the kitchen, he came here to masturbate, and now I’m cleaning it up?

I’ve cleaned up strange and random messes from him before, but never something like this. Then again, Alistair doesn’t see things like other people do. Sometimes he isn’t aware of how harsh and abrupt his words are, and he doesn’t read people well. I’ve noticed that in our own interactions, as well as when he’s on conference calls with remote contractors.

I wouldn’t say he’s tactless, he’s just brilliant and not a people person and doesn’t know how to be tactful.

Pursing my lips, I sigh. We’re in big trouble. Things changed today. And I don’t know what the hell to do about it.

Heading back to the kitchen, I grab my cleaning supplies and mop up the mess, leaving his closet in pristine condition. This has been the longest work day of my life.

“Oh fuck,” I slap myself on the forehead. I haven’t started dinner. Growling at my distraction, I return the cleaning supplies to their cupboard and begin cooking.

Alistair doesn’t look up when I enter his office with dinner, half an hour later. He doesn’t look up when I set it down at his side. And he doesn’t look up when I clear my throat to get his attention.

“Alistair,” I say. “I’m leaving for the night. Do you need anything else?”

Green eyes flick to mine, and I watch a myriad of emotions pass through them before he settles to neutral. “I don’t. You may go.”

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