As soon as Chloe was tucked in bed and asleep that night, I bid a quick good night to Oliver and locked myself in my room. All the feelings I'd been burying since his heat-driven confession had risen to the surface today. It was one thing to see the two of them interacting together in small pieces. That was heart-meltingly adorable enough. But spending nearly all day with them? Watching the way Oliver listened closely to Chloe, not just pretending to listen, but actually listening, the way he effortlessly guided her through learning new things, whether it was pronunciations or animal lives or angles at a level she could understand...? I was absolutely gone.

Not to mention the honey and lavender scent that clung to my clothes, that lingered throughout my entire house except for my room. The lack of Oliver in my room made me want to drag my blankets downstairs, roll him up in them, and then put him on my bed. Or just, you know, throw him on the bed and ravage him the way my half-hard dick had been telling me to all day. Not that either were acceptable.

I hadn't been able to help stare at his tongue as he expertly licked his melting ice cream cone, thinking about what other uses that tongue could be put to.

I was an awful human being. As much as I tried to stop thinking of him in that way, as much as I told myself no, the thoughts kept teasing me about what life could be like if Oliver were my omega instead of my nanny. If he slept in my room instead of down the hall. If he were Chloe's other dad instead of someone who could walk away any time he wanted.

That last thought terrified me. If it weren't for Chloe, I don't think I could have kept myself from telling him how I felt. Or at least part of it. I didn't want to scare him away with my intensity. But if I did tell him, what if he didn't feel the same and felt he had to leave? Or worse, what if he did feel the same but it didn't work out? Either case ended with Oliver leaving, and Chloe and I being devastated. As awful as it would be for me, it would be ten times worse for Chloe. I could never do that to her. 

I groaned in frustration. Even thinking through my fears of losing him didn't diminish my hard on. I shucked my clothes, throwing them to the floor in a pile and stalked into my shower. Oliver was off limits. That was it.

That didn't stop me from imagining him slipping open my shower curtain and joining me. Oliver was always thinking of others first, so he would attempt to take care of me, dropping to his knees, his big eyes even larger with desire.

I took my erection in hand. I'd never allowed myself to play through a fantasy with him. But maybe that would help me get out of my mind. I've never been with a man before, but Jen and I had experimented with anal a few times and I couldn't imagine it would be very different.

I pull Oliver to his feet and kiss him, a firm, distracting kiss, slowly backing him up until he hits the back wall of the shower. Then I drop to my knees and pull his cheeks apart, revealing his dusky hole, already slick and clenching in anticipation. Oliver gasps as I swipe my tongue from bottom to top, then I go back to pay more particular attention. I blow softly on his hole, chilling the wet skin, then dive back in, circling and probing with my tongue. I am going to take care of Oliver like he takes care of everyone else. Well, maybe he doesn't take care of anyone this way. I'm going to take better care of him than that asshole alpha he used to have ever did. 

A growl escaped my mouth and my knot swelled under my hand. 

I take my time eating Oliver out, waiting until he's begging me, until his arms and legs are shaking. Then I finally stand, but I don't give him what he's asking for yet. He's so tight, it's been so long since this hole has been claimed. I press the tip of one finger in, my other hand holding him around his chest, practically supporting his weight. And it's a good thing, because he gasps and his legs give out as I press the finger in further. He's so wet from his slick gushing from his hole that I quickly jump up to two fingers. I scissor them, stretching him wider. But it's going to take more than that if he's going to take my knot. 

My fist is tight and fast, sliding over my cock in a punishing pace. 

Just before he's quite ready to take a third finger, I add it, and he bucks wildly against me, the pleasure of the pain making him mindless. I up to three fingers before I even think about letting him take my knot. By this time, he's regained his footing and he's fucking wildly against my fingers. And when he's finally gaping wide, ready for me, I start my slow slide in. He thinks he's ready for me, but on his first push back he gasps in surprise. As much as I stretched him, he's still tight around my cock. I circle my hips in tiny motions as he gets used to the sensation, letting him control his descent. Every few seconds, he pushes back, taking a little more of me each time until finally my knot is pressed against his entrance. 

I take back the control, pushing his back down so that his hands are on the low sides of the tub, his ass high in the air, my cock sliding in and out at a slowly increasing pace. I grab his hips and use them as leverage, pulling him hard against me on each thrust, each time my knot almost stretching him far enough, but not quite breaching the tight ring of muscles.

I can tell he's close, as am I, and I'm not sure how to take him over the edge. I pull him upright and press his chest against the wall with my final thrusts, my knot finally entering him. That's what sends me over the edge, yelling his name like a mantra, and I realize he's coming with me, his walls clenching tightly around me, squeezing my quickly expanding knot, milking me of every last drop of cum.

I nearly collapsed to the floor, my ears buzzing and jizz all over the shower walls. Holy hell. That was not going to help me get him out of my mind.