Alpha Mate at the Gas Station

Chapter 26: self care

With that, I didn’t even care anymore.

Lies were familiar territory to me. I had learned how to recognize their shape long before they were spoken aloud. And some part of me—quiet, exhausted, unsurprised—had been waiting for this moment.

I set his phone back exactly where it had been, untouched, like nothing had happened, and walked straight to my room.

No tears.

No confrontation.

Just resolve.

I opened my closet and pulled out the red dress.

The one that didn’t ask permission.

The one that didn’t apologize.

The one that said look at me even when I didn’t feel worthy of being seen.

I laid it out carefully, paired it with my heels, checked everything twice. Tomorrow was ready. I would be ready.

Everything except my heart.

I let out a slow breath, the kind that feels heavy in the chest, and suddenly the idea of a bath settled into me like a need. Not indulgence—escape. Warm water. Silence. Something that would quiet the noise in my head.

It felt strange how badly I wanted it, how my body seemed to crave comfort even while my mind braced for disappointment.

As I turned the water on, memories crept in uninvited.

How things had been with my ex—what I had once believed intimacy meant. How I had mistaken familiarity for safety, attention for love. How easily I had molded myself into what was expected of me.

And then, against my will, my thoughts shifted.

Dominic.

Not in actions, not in details—but in questions.

What would it feel like to be wanted without being measured?

To be touched without obligation?

To be seen without comparison?

The thought unsettled me as much as it warmed something deep in my chest.

The steam from the filling tub curled around me like a lover's breath as I stripped off the last of my clothes, the fabric whispering against my skin before pooling on the cool tile floor. My body still hummed from the earlier indulgences, but this—this was mine alone. Dominic's image lingered in my mind, unbidden and insistent, his tattooed arms flexing as he reached for me, that tan expanse of chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. His blue eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto mine in my fantasy, blonde hair tousled just enough to beg for my fingers to rake through it. He was everything my ex wasn't—raw, unapologetic, a storm where my past had been a stagnant pond. Touching myself to him felt like rebellion, a delicious sin that made my pulse quicken even before the water touched me.

I stepped into the tub, the hot water lapping at my ankles, then calves, as I lowered myself inch by inch. It enveloped my thighs, my ass settling against the porcelain with a sigh of relief.

The heat seeped into my muscles, loosening the knots of tension I'd carried all day, and I leaned back, letting my head rest on the curved edge.

My legs parted naturally, knees bending to hug the sides, the water rising to cover my hips, my belly, teasing the undersides of my small breasts.

I closed my eyes, blocking out the world beyond this sanctuary, and focused on the sensation—the gentle pressure against my skin, the way it buoyed me, making me weightless.

Tonight was for reclaiming myself. No more chasing shadows of approval from a man who'd never seen me. No more dimming my light to fit someone else's dim view. Just this: the water's embrace, my own hands, and Dominic's phantom touch guiding me.

My right hand trailed down my sternum, fingers splaying over my ribs before dipping lower, skimming the water's surface to find the ache between my legs. I was already slick, not just from the bath but from the memory of him, the way his body would pin mine, unyielding and demanding.

I started slow, parting my folds with two fingers, feeling the warmth of the water mix with my own growing wetness.

My c**t throbbed under the pad of my thumb as I circled it, light at first, building the spark into a steady burn. In my mind, Dominic loomed over me, his tattooed forearms braced on either side of the tub, water droplets tracing the ink on his skin like secrets I wanted to lick away. 'Show me how you touch yourself,' he'd command, voice rough like gravel under tires, those blue eyes darkening with hunger.

A soft moan escaped my lips as I pressed harder, rubbing in tight, insistent circles. My left hand joined the play, cupping my breast and rolling the n****e between thumb and forefinger, pinching until it peaked, hard and sensitive. The contrast—the soothing heat below, the sharp tug above—sent jolts straight to my core. I imagined his mouth there instead, sucking greedily, teeth grazing just enough to make me arch. My ex had always been tentative, like pleasure was a chore; Dominic, I knew, would devour, leaving marks that bloomed purple and possessive.

The water sloshed gently as my hips bucked, fingers sliding deeper now, one then two pushing inside my p***y with a wet glide. I curled them upward, stroking that inner wall that made my toes curl against the tub's bottom. Faster, the rhythm built, my thumb never leaving my c**t, flicking it side to side. Blonde strands fell across his forehead in my vision, his tan skin glistening with sweat as he watched me unravel. 'Come for me,' he'd growl, and f**k, I wanted to obey, to shatter under that gaze.

Breaths came in shallow pants, the steam thick in my lungs, grounding me even as the fantasy lifted me higher. No pretending—I was wet, needy, alive. No performing—just my fingers f*****g myself deeper, the squelch of water and flesh the only soundtrack. No waiting—tomorrow could bring whatever chaos it wanted, but right now, I was enough. My body tensed, thighs quivering as the pressure coiled tight in my belly. Dominic's image sharpened: his c**k hard and veined, pressing against my entrance in my mind, promising to fill me until I broke.

I came with a gasp, p***y clenching around my fingers, waves crashing through me as I rode them out. My free hand gripped the tub's edge, nails scraping porcelain, while the other slowed, drawing out every pulse until I slumped, boneless in the now-stilling water. Eyes still closed, I let the aftershocks fade, a small smile curving my lips. For the first time all day, peace settled over me like the cooling bath, and I breathed deep, surviving, being, enough.

Letting myself breathe, I finished my bath slowly, as if the water were the only thing holding me together. When I finally dressed, the house felt too quiet. Too empty.

I walked downstairs, half-expecting to hear Dominic’s voice, the sound of a door closing, anything that proved he had come back.

Nothing.

The kitchen lights felt colder without him there. I moved on instinct, filling a pot with water, boiling spaghetti, going through motions that required no thinking. Silence stretched around me as I ate, each bite mechanical, each chew accompanied by thoughts I didn’t want to have.

I wondered—without meaning to—if Dominic would ever touch me the way I had touched myself in the bath. Not physically. Emotionally. Gently. Without expectation. Without judgment.

The thought made my chest tighten.

When I was done, I rinsed the dishes and dried my hands, then grabbed a scrap of paper and left a short note on the counter. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to say I had gone to bed. Enough to pretend everything was normal.

Sleep came easier than I expected.

When I woke, sunlight filtered through the curtains, soft and forgiving. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Forgot everything. Then the weight of the day settled back into my bones.

My appointment.

I stood and dressed carefully, choosing clothes that made me feel composed, even if I wasn’t. When I stopped in front of the mirror, my reflection looked back at me like a stranger—tired eyes, stiff shoulders, a woman bracing herself for something she didn’t know how to face.

My stomach fluttered with nerves.

I didn’t know what I would find today.

I didn’t know who I would meet.

I didn’t know what version of myself I needed to be.

All I knew was that whatever waited for me outside this house had the power to change things—for better or worse.

And that terrified me more than anything else.