His Manny Omega

by Harper B. Cole

  And Oliver felt so much more comfortable bringing Chloe over to the clinic, which meant I got to see my daughter more. Helen had always worried about interrupting my work. In addition, I rarely had to think about making dinner, as Oliver almost always had something waiting by the time I got home, which meant I got to spend more of my time enjoying Chloe, and less of my time running around feeling like I was trying to play catch up. Oliver had someone found a place in every corner of my life. I loved it. I was confused by it. I ignored it as best I could.

  The three of us were enjoying breakfast together for once. I had taken over breakfast duties for the morning, making the oh-so-gourmet meal of toaster waffles. At least I had real maple syrup. Oliver had beaten me up and made coffee. He grimaced every time he watched me make it the way I liked: half flavored creamer, half coffee, but he rarely said anything. He didn't have to, his face spoke volumes. I teased him by smiling as I happily inhaled. "Sugar makes the world go round!"

  "I think you mean caffeine makes the world go round, but you might be an exception. There's definitely more sugar than caffeine in that cup."

  I smiled into my cup. It took a bit to pull out Oliver's snarky side, but I always felt a sense of deep satisfaction when I did.

  "So, Chloe bug, what are we going to do today?"

  "Can we ride horses?" she asked through a mouthful of waffle.

  "Wait until you're finished chewing to speak," I said automatically. As to the horses... "Ah, I don't think we can ride horses today. You, ah..." I cast around for an excuse that wouldn't turn into an argument about whether she was big enough to ride a pony yet, let alone a full horse. "You have to make an appointment with the stable before, so maybe a different day, but not today."

  She didn't seem to upset by that, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  "What else do you want to do?"

  She shrugged her little shoulders. "The things Oliver takes me."

  I looked at him for help.

  "We go to the park and the library. We go to the coffee shop and she gets a whipped cream sprinkles."

  "What, no whipped cream sprinkles for you?" I chuckled.

  He made a gagging face, but swiftly morphed it to a smile when he saw Chloe's eyes on him. "Nope, I like my old person coffee."

  I raised my eyebrow at that. Oliver was anything but old.

  "That's what Chloe calls it," he explained.

  Well in that case... "That's because she's a smart girl. Isn't Oliver super old, Chloe? Even Daddy doesn't drink old person coffee."

  Oliver pinned me with an "oh really?" look.

  Chloe didn't even miss a beat. She finished her bite of waffle and then said, "But you're lots older than Oliver, Daddy."

  "Zing!" Oliver yelled, cracking up.

  I took a long, slow sip of my coffee, pretending to glare at Chloe, "I know where you sleep, child."

  She giggled and squirmed in her seat.

  "What about putt putt?" I asked suddenly. Chloe was getting old enough for putt putt, right?

  "What's pud pud, Daddy?"

  "Putt putt, sweetie. It’s like golf..." Yeah, that was a great way to explain it to a three-year-old. "You have a tiny ball, and a stick with a flat thing on the end, and you try to hit the ball through houses and up hills, and through mountains and castles." That still sounded complicated.

  "Castles!"

  Well, at least she'd understood one part of what I'd said. Oliver was giggling into his coffee. I would have liked to see him explain it any better. And I really hoped that I had remembered right, that the nearest putt putt had a castle.

  "Oliver, do you like putt putt with castles?"

  "I sure do, sweetie."

  That seemed to make up Chloe's mind. If Oliver liked it, it was good in her book. Damn, she was so cute. "Okay, we go putt putt."

  "After you finish three more bites."

  She gave me a long suffering glare, but took another bite.

  "So what are you up to today?" I asked Oliver.

  "Oliver wanna go putt putt," Chloe said through her waffle.

  "Chloe, swallow before speaking. And I don't think Oliver wants to go putt putt with us today." The man had been with Chloe for six days straight. I loved my little girl, but she was mine, and even I wasn't sure how well I'd handle spending all day every day with her.

  She swallowed and turned sad, puppy dog eyes on me. "But Oliver likes putt putt."

  I shot a "help me" look at Oliver.

  "Actually," he said. "I don't have any plans. If it's not an imposition, I'd love to go putt putt with you."

  "Really?" I blinked in surprise as Chloe bounced in her seat. "It's your first day off in a week. You don't want the break?"

  "One, I think I've told you a few times, I really love kids. And two, it's not as if Chloe's a particularly difficult one."

  My heart swelled with pride. It was one thing to think your kid was well behaved and sweet, and another to have someone else confirm it.

  "Okay, then. We're all going putt putt!"

  19

  Oliver

  It had been years since I played immature golf, as my grandfather used to call it. It was still early in the day when we arrived, so the place was far from crowded, which worked for me. When Chloe invited me, my initial reaction was to bow out and give them some daddy-daughter time, but the selfish side of me took over when Wyatt sent me his own version of puppy dog eyes.

  The course was simple and dated, which meant I lucked out. It had castles. Chloe had spent the entire ride over talking about the castle and not having one would’ve crushed her. We played the first few holes with all the enthusiasm and gusto the event required. But slowly and surely the place filled up and people started tapping their toes behind us.

  “Putt putt’s hard.” Chloe pouted after missing the ball three times in a row.

  “It is,” I agreed. “But it’s fun to play with your family.” I bit my tongue, cursing myself for the slip. I wasn’t family. I was the hired help. I couldn't let myself get too intertwined with them. Truth be told, though, that ship had long sailed.

  “That’s because you and Oliver get it in the hole.” She stuck her tongue out in concentration and swung once more, this time nicking the ball sending it the wrong direction.

  “Want me to help you some more?” I offered.

  “No, Daddy do it.” Best. Answer. Ever. There was a danger when you are a nanny that the child might become reliant on you for help simply because you are the person there more often to give help. My face lit up at her reply, as did Wyatt’s. “And I want the castle.” She pointed to the castle, which was not only vacant, but the few holes between us and it were also empty. Score.

  She carried her ball straight to the starting divot. Wyatt came up behind her, helping line up her putter with the ball. As her arm came down, I sent up a silent wish that she hit the ball and in the correct direction, which she did. Only six more swings and the ball was in the hole. It was a par two, but considering it was her first single digit score, we all called it a win with high fives and hugs all around.

  “Can we have ice cream?” She looked between us as if looking for the weak link.

  “Don’t you want to finish?” I asked. Not that I was opposed to being done for the day.

  “No. I want strawberry.” She pointed to the little ice cream stand near the parking lot.

  “Finish on a high note?” Wyatt shrugged.

  “Works for me.” I held out my hand for their clubs and balls and went to the return station.

  As I caught up with them, they were already on a bench ice cream in hand.

  “Chloe said you would want strawberry like her and I said you like chocolate, so we got you both.” He handed me an ice cone filled with two of my favorites.

  “Thank you. They are both my favorite.” I began to lick the drippings away, catching Wyatt watching my mouth a little too closely. I wanted it to be because of feelings I knew he didn’t have for meI. It was too easily to convince myself that
his every day benign actions were more, meant more.

  “See, Daddy. I told you he likes strawberry.” Chloe went straight back to eating her ice cream.

  The only spot left on the bench was next to Wyatt, Chloe having taken the spot closest to the slide, which I had no doubt was her next target. I settled into my spot, trying hard not to be obvious about the fact that I was attempting to sit as far away Wyatt as possible without being rude. Sitting too close to him, even in this open area, was bound to do things to me. Things I would rather go unnoticed.

  I ate my ice cream, paying absolutely no attention to Wyatt’s mouth as he consumed his. I did not watch his tongue snake around to catch a drip. Or his tongue licking the remains of the icy goodness from his lips. I definitely didn't state as his teeth grazed the frozen confection before taking a small bite. Who was I kidding? It was official. I was jealous of an ice cream cone. A freaking ice cream cone.

  “I wanna slide.” Chloe bound in front of us, her face filled with ice cream and a ginormous smile.

  I’d almost forgotten she was there as I stared at her father. That was not good. Not. Good. At. All. She was a smart enough girl that she would notice if I didn’t shut that shit down fast. The last thing I needed was to confuse her.

  “Here.” I offered her a napkin as she waited for her father’s reply.

  “For a few minutes. Then we have to get home. It’s almost lunch time.”

  She nodded her agreement before running off to get in as many slides as she could before we left.

  I gave Wyatt a teasing shoulder bump, “You did hear the ridiculousness of your statement, right?

  “As soon as the word lunch left my mouth. Thanks for coming today.” He twisted to face me as I turned to face him, both of us still at an angle where we could watch Chloe slide over and over again, giggling each time she did.

  “Sure, but why thanks?” I pretended to be busy with my ice cream as silence filled the space between us, the only sounds coming from the other people in the park. I’d learned early on that Wyatt was comfortable with silence when he was carefully choosing his words.

  “It’s good for Chloe to see us together like this,” I could’ve sworn I saw the beginnings of a blush on him. “So she knows we are both on the same page,” he quickly added. “If you hadn’t noticed, she has been angling to play us in her quest for a puppy.”

  “I noticed.” Everyone she met noticed. She was a three-year-old negotiation powerhouse when it came to that puppy. “Please say there will be no puppy.” It was the first time I expressed my opinion out loud. If there was going to be one, I’d figure it out, but puppies were far more work than I wanted. When Wyatt’s shoulders relaxed, so did mine. I wasn’t alone in this. “A dog I can handle, puppies are just too much work.” Little pee machines that wake you up in the middle of the night and beg for food every time you go near their bowl. Cute? Yes. But they were needy little buggers.

  “Don’t I know it. I’m pretty sure Sally already lined up homes for all of them. They will be ready to go home as soon as next week.”

  And there was much rejoicing.

  “I’ll miss them. Not enough to argue for one to come home, but I bonded with them and am glad they are being placed by Sally and not the shelter.” That night when we took care of them, I more than bonded with them. I bonded with Wyatt. It was if there was a shift that night. A tiny one, but nonetheless. I became less the help that night and more of a friend.

  “I agree.” He popped the last bit of cone into his mouth before catching an escaped drop from the corner of his mouth.

  “This was nice.” The words fell from my mouth before I could stop them, Wyatt’s eyes going wide for the tiniest of moments.

  “What was?”

  “Spending the morning together like this.” I looked just above his eyes as I spoke, fearing the honesty was a bit too much given our primary roles as employer and employee.

  “It was.” He whispered as a three-year-old ball of laughter barreled at us, effectively ending the conversation.

  20

  Wyatt

  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.r />
  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.

  21