Page 13 of Invade Me

Truth be told, I wasn’t a fan of rough sex myself. My private life in the bedroom was vanilla as hell. That was one of the issues Tom had with our marriage—he was into some kinks, and I seemed boring to him in the long run. Kind of ironic, considering the kind of job I’d ended up in.

My attention drifted back to the photo folder.

Seriously, Storm?Not again. Fuck.

And yep, I got enthralled by his photo again. Crazy. What was so special about him? I was pretty sure that 90% of thealphas wouldn't even notice him. And the rest would think amaranth hair was a poor choice of dye.

Why did I become so obsessed with the guy?

Minutes passed. I stubbornly studied his full lips, those sad eyes, and that funny rose-shaped birthmark. And I felt a strange wave inside me. I’d experienced something like this before while working on matchmaking—something almost ominous and powerful.

Could it be…? Nah.

Then came another wave—this one more familiar: a good old warmth in the crotch area.

Today, I’m going to fuck him,I thought. My hand absentmindedly touched my hardening dick.

Well, one thing was for sure: I wouldn’t need the erection pill they recommended for employees. The company always insisted on using it to ensure a top-notch experience for the client, but this? This was all me. I could already feel an intense kind of excitement spreading through my body at the thought of having that little 5’7" omega under me—such a stark contrast to my 7’2" frame. A small, plump omega with red curls.

For the last seven months, since I split up with Tom, I've been very… asexual, the idea of casual sex wasn't appealing at all, and looking for a serious relationship wasn't much on my depressed mind.

But today, for some reason, I felt different. My hand slipped to my crotch again. Damn.

Should I stop? Maybe it was good to show up a little heated—it’d guarantee the success of my first fuck job at Dark Dreams.

Nope, I could get it up again easily.

Smirking, I got to work. It took less than a minute to bring things to a satisfying finish.

UTTERLY UNPROFESSIONAL

At 11 pm, I decided it was time to get ready. I headed to the bathroom and took a long, thorough shower. The company advised us to use the strongest antiperspirants to ensure an undisturbed experience for our clients. After that, I put on my outfit—it looked a bit like what ninja warriors wear in the movies, the real ones, not the turtles. I also grabbed my ski mask and tucked it into my pocket; riding through the city wearing it would’ve been asking for trouble.

The student’s studio apartment wasn’t far, maybe a twenty-minute drive, right near the college campus—super convenient. I parked a short distance away and scoped out the area, checking to see if I could get to his window without being noticed.

Luckily, the student seemed aware his neighborhood wasn’t exactly intruder-proof. Some of the apartments faced a backyard full of shrubs, which gave plenty of cover. According to Mr. Ragu’s layout, the student’s place was smack in the middle of the building: the sixth window from the left, seventh from the right—the kitchen. Even from a distance, I noticed he’d left the window slightly open, like he was setting the stage for me.

Everything was lining up. My heart started to race as I got closer to the window, the thrill making my pulse pick up speed. I checked my phone—1:04 am, prime break-in time when everyone’s usually dead asleep.

Not feeling a need to overthink it—that would just make me more jumpy—I hoisted myself onto the windowsill and nudged the window open. It swung without a hitch. I left my shoes on the lawn, hoping nobody would find them, and stepped inside in my black, non-slip socks.

In my pocket, I had condoms, a lube sachet, and a black satin ribbon to tie his hands. I rarely tied clients up tightly; it was mostly for show, no need for metal chains.

The kitchen was tiny, as you’d expect in a studio apartment. I took a deep breath out of habit, even though I’d been taking the super-strong pheromone suppressant Seprudin 750 since I joined the company six months ago. It always felt a little strange not picking up the scent of omegas, and them not smelling me. But it was a rule. The company didn’t want clients sniffing out zero pheromone compatibility and having it ruin the mood.

As I moved deeper inside, though, I caught the faintest hint of something nice—sweet and charming. I couldn’t quite place it, but it gave me a slight shiver. Even with the suppressant, I felt a little warmth in my groin.

The apartment was quiet and dark. I tiptoed into the hallway and spotted two doors—one shut, the other cracked open. The open one led to the bedroom, where that light, elusive scent was coming from, teasing at the edges of my senses. Sometimes it slipped away; sometimes I felt close to catching it. Were my alien genes breaking through the suppressant?

Holding my breath, I snuck into the room. My night vision kicked in—a perk from my extraterrestrial ancestors. Now, I could clearly see the bed in the center of the room. Curled upunder a quilt, surrounded by a meticulously crafted omega nest, lay a small figure.

My heart fluttered.

I knew immediately he wasn’t really sleeping. His heart was racing, pounding way too fast. I could hear it as clear as day—he was probably startled awake by my not-so-stealthy entrance, or maybe he’d been just lying there the whole time, wide awake, waiting for my visit. He kept still, though, despite his heart thumping in quick, nervous beats.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I tuned into the sounds of the room—his breathing, the nervous swallows. Being a purple alpha, my hearing was more acute than the hearing of other alphas, so I caught all the subtle, organic sounds. Obviously, he knew I could tell he wasn’t asleep; he was just lying there, pretending, playing along.

A lot of clients did this—nervously waiting for the company employee to show up. Probably hadn’t slept a wink, and this guy seemed no different.

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