Filthy alpha, p.12
Filthy Alpha, page 12
“And when I’m not all you can think about?” she asks softly.
Shifting my lips to her ear, I take a moment to really take her in. I close my eyes, suck in a breath, and let it out slowly. “Then we discuss things,” I murmur.
She doesn’t like that. I can tell by the way her muscles stiffen from my words, but it’s the truth, and I’m going to be honest with her. I can do that, if nothing else. I owe her that much, at least.
“It’s you and me, sweetness. I didn’t lie about that. Nothing happened with the stripper, I swear to fuck.”
And that is the explanation she will get from me. Shifting closer to her, I touch my mouth to hers before I pick her up and carry her to the perfectly made bed. Then I lower her down onto the mattress, peel her pants off, and bury my face in her sweet cunt.
No more words are spoken.
We just feel.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
SHAWN
My head falls backward, my back arches and Elvis’s fingers grip my hips. He slams me down. Digging my nails into his chest, I let him have control. I’ve already come, but he’s moving me the way he wants, and it’s so damn sexy that I can feel myself climbing toward another release.
It’s so much, too much, almost, and I can’t help but whimper as I climb higher and higher toward another release. I want to come. I can feel it, my body on the edge, and I don’t know how it’s possible. I’ve already come, yet I want it again.
I need it like I need my next breath.
I grip his chest tighter, my nails no doubt on the verge of drawing blood, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t say anything. He uses my body to jack himself, and I’ve never felt sexier than in this moment. I don’t understand it, but I’m trying not to get lost in my head. I want to feel.
I want to feel him.
I want to feel us.
Then one of his hands leaves my hip and slides up the center of my chest, his fingers curling around the front of my throat.
“Fuck me, Shawn,” he growls.
And I do.
My hips roll. I take over the motion and rhythm he’s set. Then his other hand slides across my hip and I feel his fingers between us, and that’s when his thumb presses against my clit. He doesn’t move it, just holds it still while I fuck him, shamelessly rubbing my clit against his finger as I bring myself closer and closer to the edge.
When I’m so close that I can taste it, he flips me onto my back, his hands leaving the front of my throat and my clit as he takes that moment to fuck me—hard.
His hips move, he thrusts, and his pelvis grinds against my clit once, twice, three times, and I come.
Hard.
So hard that my vision blurs as tears fill my eyes. My body jerks. It bucks as the orgasm pulses throughout my entire body. If Elvis notices that I’m completely losing my shit, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stays buried inside of me and lowers his head to touch his lips to mine, and then he begins to move in and out of me… lazily, beautifully.
Wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his hips, I hold him to me. When he stops moving, he stays planted inside of me, lifting his head, his blue eyes looking into mine. It feels like he’s gazing into my soul.
“Yes, I was jealous,” I confess. “But I want you to unwind with me.” Then I decide to get vulnerable with him, although I feel as if I’ve been pretty open in the short time I’ve known him already. “I don’t want to be my mother,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say anything, but he does frown slightly and arch a brow as he waits for me to explain my words a bit more. So I decide that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’ll hurt nobody by telling him the truth, not even myself. Because if I’m rejected, I know it will be a “him” problem, not “me.”
“I don’t want to be completely obsessed with a man, crawl for him, only to be treated like shit and look like an idiot. I respect myself more than that.”
I’m not sure what expression he’s wearing, but it is not joy. Instead, he rears back and pulls out of me, forcing my arms and legs to unwrap from his body. He lies beside me, and I feel his eyes on my profile, but I don’t look at him.
“You don’t know me well enough yet, but trust me when I tell you I’m not going to treat you like shit, and when you crawl for me, it will end with you coming.”
Slowly, I turn my head so I can look into his eyes. He’s staring at me, that blue gaze of his instantly consuming me in ways I don’t think are healthy. Reaching out, I extend my fingers and slide the tips of them down his clipped-short, bearded face.
“You’ll hurt me, Elvis,” I whisper. “You’re a man who lives a certain kind of way, and I want someone who will be faithful, monogamous. I don’t think that’s who you are, and I’m not going to change you. I don’t want to.”
He frowns, his lips pressing together in a thin line, and those pretty blue eyes of his turn almost black. He leans forward, wrapping his hand around my wrist, his fingers flexing and squeezing hard as he does.
“I’m going to hurt you, sweetness. That’s fuckin’ life. This goes good with us, you’ll get what you need, and so will I. There will be no steamrolling someone’s wants and desires. We’re together, and neither of us is more important than the other.”
God.
I absolutely love the sound of that.
He shifts so that he’s on top of me, and he slams my arm above my head, pushing it into the pillow. Elvis lowers his head until his lips touch mine, but he doesn’t deepen the kiss. He lifts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine again, and then his lips curve up into a grin.
“You’re mine, sweetness. There’s no out on this. My woman, my old lady, my fuckin’ cunt.”
I should hate the sound of that.
All of it.
I don’t.
In fact, I really like it. Then he says something else, and my entire body stiffens. “I took care of your mother and brother. They even sneeze in your direction, you tell me, and I’ll remind them of today.”
My eyes widen, and I suck in a breath, holding it as I stare at him. I don’t know what that means. What did he do? But instead of asking him, I just stare at him, unable to speak. That’s when he bursts out laughing and drops to the side of the bed, this time in laughter instead of anger.
Turning to face him, I am very aware of my nakedness, but I’m also so shocked by his words that I can’t do anything about it, so I continue to just stare at him. He also continues to think that this is funny when I’m not sure I do.
“I just went to their house. Scared them. I didn’t do anything, even though I really wanted to.”
“You did that?” I ask. “For me?”
He hums, reaching out to wrap his fingers around the side of my throat, his eyes focused on mine. They’ve returned to their pretty blue color, and I don’t know why, but that makes my heart slam against my chest. They’re so gorgeous, and he’s just so damn beautiful.
“Yeah, Shawn. I did that for you. You’ll see that I’ll do a hell of a lot more for you, too. Just wait. You know why?” he asks.
I hold my breath. I can’t speak. My eyes fill with wetness again, except this time, it isn’t from an epic orgasm. It’s from this epic man across from me.
“Because you’re worth it.”
My heart stops.
My breath stops.
The entire world stops.
Oh my god.
“Now, let’s go have some beers, and you can meet my brothers officially. Right now, they just think of you as the cupcake girl.”
I think about the people having sex when I walked down there the last time and my nose wrinkles. He lets out a laugh, no doubt understanding my nose wrinkle.
“Gonna have to get used to it, sweetness.”
“That Poison woman explained things to me, something I didn’t really care for.”
Wrong.
Thing.
To.
Say.
Elvis sits straight up, his eyes widening, and his expression is… wild. “She did what?” he growls.
“Poison explained things. How she’s a clubwhore and she is available to you and everyone else, and there’s nothing that I can do about it.”
Reaching for the sheet, I pull it up my chest as he throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands. I watch as he grabs his jeans sans underwear and pulls them up, only zipping the zipper. Then he grabs the leather vest from the hook on the wall and pulls it on over his bare chest.
I’m mesmerized by the bare chest for a moment and stare speechlessly at his dark tattoos and muscles… so many muscles. Shaking my head, I try to get myself out of the stupor that his sexy body put me in, and I reach out for him, grabbing his belt loop before he walks away.
He stops, turning his head and tipping his chin as he looks down at me. “Babe?” he asks.
“What’s wrong?”
He turns to face me fully and crosses his arms over his broad chest, dipping his chin to look down at me. “She doesn’t talk to you. In fact, she doesn’t exist to you, do you understand me?”
“I don’t,” I whisper.
“She’s a whore. You are an old lady. The two do not fucking intersect.”
Narrowing my eyes, I am trying to make sense of his words, but nothing about them makes any sense to me at all.
“Old lady?” I ask, my brain picking out those two words and wanting to know more about them more than anything.
He lets out a sigh as if he’s annoyed with me, which he probably is because it seemed like he was on a mission to be angry with that woman. She was kind of a bitch to me, so I wouldn’t be opposed to her being yelled at, but at the same time, I want to understand what’s happening here.
“It means you’re my woman. It’s your label.”
“I’m not sure…”
He chuckles, the anger having left his face. “It doesn’t mean I think you’re old. It’s just tradition.”
“Okay,” I exhale. “But I don’t understand why she isn’t allowed to talk to me.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Whores and old ladies do not mix. It’s not done. She knows her place, and even if she didn’t know exactly who you were, she shouldn’t have said shit about shit.”
“Is this one of those things that I’m just going to have to accept that I probably will never understand, kind of like the whole concept of… whores?” I ask, whispering the word because there is something icky about saying it aloud.
I don’t even know why.
I usually don’t give words even a second thought. They don’t mean anything unless you attach a meaning. I’m sure it’s something deep-seated, though. And I have no doubt that seed was planted by my mother.
“That’s exactly what it is,” he says, giving me a wink.
Against my better judgment, I suck in a deep breath and release his loops. “I’ll go with you. Just let me get dressed.”
His lips curve up into a huge smile, and he nods his head, his gaze searching mine. Then he chuckles as I throw my legs over the side of the bed and grab my clothes from the floor. Putting them on, I make my way over to my bag and root around for the outfit that I brought for the party. It’s a black pair of shorts and an off-the-shoulder satin top that is probably too dressy for this crew, but I don’t think any of them would care what I have on.
In fact, I don’t think they would even blink if I was completely naked.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
KING
Taking her hand, I grip it tightly and move out of the room, down the hall, then down the stairs with her trailing behind me. I know she’s reluctant to go to the party, but this is her life now, so she better get fucking used to it.
The music thrums through the bar, people talking and shouting all around me, and instead of walking straight up to Poison, I decide that I need a drink. And I need a fucking drink now. Zombie is behind the bar. Without a single word, he slides a beer toward me, then he flicks his attention to Shawn.
“What can I get for you?” he asks when I don’t place her order.
It’s not my order to place. She’s an adult, and she can order her own drinks and food. Bringing my beer to my lips, I take a pull as I watch the exchange of Shawn and Zombie. I almost laugh when she leans across the bar to ask for something sweet.
Zombie’s gaze flicks to mine, and I can tell he wants to say something else to her, no doubt flirty and possibly sexual, but because I’m standing here, he thankfully refrains. I don’t feel like getting in a fight tonight, so I’m glad.
“Best I got for you is some vodka and Sprite, babe,” Zombie mutters.
“Okay,” she says.
He jerks his chin, then scoops some ice, pours some vodka, and then tops it off with Sprite. Shawn naturally says a kind thank-you, then turns to me, lifting her drink to her lips and taking a sip.
“That was Zombie,” I explain. “He’s not a member of the club yet. He wants to be. He’s called a prospect.”
And that’s how the evening goes. I tell Shawn about every member of the club, only pausing when one appears at our side, and then I introduce them to one another. Everyone already knows Shawn, though. She made the amazing cupcakes. My little baker.
When the party is in full swing, I can tell Shawn is getting drunker by the minute. I don’t ask her how many of those drinks she’s had. She’s not going anywhere tomorrow. The bakery can stay closed for another day. It doesn’t really matter at this point.
“Need to talk to you,” Atomic mutters from my side.
I turn to look at Shawn. She’s throwing her hands in the air as she drunkenly talks to Gnaw. What the fuck they’re even saying to one another, I have no goddamn idea, but it’s cute as fuck.
Gnaw jerks his chin, his eyes finding mine. I mouth for him to watch her, and he jerks his chin in confirmation of my request. I lean toward her and touch my lips to her temple before I shift them to her ear.
“I’ll be back in a few,” I murmur.
I’m not even sure that she hears me, but I needed to at least tell her. Taking a step away from her, I turn and follow Atomic toward his office.
Fuck.
I did not want to work tonight. I’ve had a great fucking orgasm and some beers. I want to crash the fuck out with my woman, maybe come again before I fall asleep.
Atomic walks into his office, and I slip in behind him, closing and locking the door. He walks around his desk, sinking down into his chair, and I do the same across from him. Lifting my leg, I cross my ankle over my knee as I watch him.
“You called me in here,” I murmur.
He clears his throat with a nod. “I did.
“I figured out what we need to do to start our trucking company, and it’s a lot easier than I thought. I wanted to go over it with you, then bring it to a vote tomorrow.”
Atomic is a goddamn workaholic. He likes to party, but not as much as he fucking loves to work. It’s ridiculous, is what it fucking is. Leaning back in the chair, I run my palm down my face.
“Clients?” I ask. “We got those?”
He clears his throat. “We do. Donation store for now. We pick up the discards and drive them to the donation sites. It’s easy as shit.”
“Local?” I ask.
Atomic shakes his head once, his lips curving up into a shit-eating grin. “Distribution warehouse at the southern border of Louisiana.”
“So, we drive down south, then over?” I ask, wanting just the bare bones of the trip.
Atomic doesn’t speak immediately and instead watches me for a moment. “It’s an easy application, and startup is nothing except licensing and trucks. We don’t have to have any product other than what we’re trying to move.”
“Where do you propose we get it from or move it to?” I ask.
That’s when his lips curve up into a grin. “Got a line on a group in Beaumont that has been using a different company. They are looking to switch. They would be our first client. We pick up what is left for us from a different group and transport it down to Beaumont.”
“So we’re the middleman?” I ask. “I don’t think the brothers are going to like that.”
Atomic presses his lips together in a thin line, then lets a breath out slowly. “I don’t want to deal with a supplier or any of that shit right now. I think we’ll make more money a lot faster doing it this way.”
His words make sense, but it makes me feel a bit like we don’t have complete control over the situation this way. And if there’s anything I don’t like at all, it’s that I don’t like to feel out of control, and I don’t think anyone else in the club does either.
“As much as I want to say it’s a great idea, I’m a bit leery. It seems like we could easily be the fall guy for either side, sending or receiving.”
“We could,” Atomic murmurs. “But I don’t think we will. There’s no good reason for it. They need their shit moved, and we can provide a service. They won’t bite the hand that feeds them.”
“Or the hand that delivers the food?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Exactly.”
“Bring it up for a vote, then,” I mutter.
I’m not one-hundred-percent convinced that this is the way to go. That this new avenue is the right one. It doesn’t really matter what I think, though. What matters is what the club votes on, and with Atomic completely behind it, I have a feeling they’ll all agree.
“I need to know you’re on board,” he says.
There is a loud noise. It sounds like glass breaking, and I jump to my feet without answering Atomic and bolt for the door. I’ve never rushed at the sound of glass breaking before, but with Shawn right outside the office, in the bar, I’m on goddamn high alert.
Then I hear a scream, and that’s when I break out into a full run. What I see isn’t what I expect at all. In fact, I stay where I am, unmoving, frozen in my place as I take in the scene before me.
What the actual fuck?
SHAWN
Poison makes her way toward me as soon as Elvis walks away with Atomic. I’m still standing at the bar, but I shift to the side, toward the wall. In hopes I’ll disappear into the darkness of the corner and, in some strange turn of events, her eyes will lose sight of me, and she’ll forget her mission.
