The Dirty Dozen: Alpha Edition

by Kay Maree

  Fuck my life!

  When we have an equipment malfunction, it’s not as easy as simply calling someone in to fix it. There’s paperwork to be done in triplicate, work orders to raise, and to top that off, there’s only one repairer we’re authorized to use and that company services seven counties. Jack’s latest fuck up is almost assuredly going to leave me short an engine for the better part of a month. Goddammit.

  “Write it up,” I order. “Get his report by the end of the shift and leave it on my desk. Worst comes to worst, I’ll hit up his dad to fast track the repairs seeing as it was his offspring who fucked us over. I’ll go over the engine reassignments later, but for now, you take two and I’ll put Reuben in charge of three. Jack’s on probation for the foreseeable future, so grunt work only.”

  Kael scoffs. “That’s gonna go over like a lead balloon. Idiot thinks he’s infallible due to who his old man is. Can’t wait to see how he takes his new bitch assignment.”

  Grinning widely at him, I reply, “Well, lucky he’s assigned to you until then, isn’t it?”

  “What’d I ever do to you?” He groans in mock outrage.

  “Nothing, But Reuben’s more likely to throw diplomacy out the window and kill him, and Andre is too fucking soft for his own good. Matt hasn’t ranked up yet so he can’t go primary until he does, and Braydon is probably gonna have to go backup on engine four, which leave you.” Before Kael can complain anymore, I go on to say, “You know if I could swing it, he’d be gone but I can’t, not yet so we’re gonna have to suck it up and make do. I’ll protect all of you with my life, but even I can’t get Reuben off a homicide charge if he takes the asshole out. You’re not only the best choice, but my only one.”

  “I get that,” he concedes, “I don’t have to fucking like it, though.”

  “Never said you did,” I shrug. “Just refrain from throwing him into a burning building or running him over with the truck and we’ll be golden.”

  “Fine,” he grunt. “But seeing as engine one is down, I’m gonna head over to Stella’s and drop these off,” he informs me, waving the stack of papers in his hand. “And maybe stock up on snickerdoodles since I have the feeling I’m going to have the end to console myself with copious amounts of sugar in the near future.”

  “Pick me up a cinnamon scroll while you’re at, would you?” They might not be the healthiest choice, but goddamn, Stella’s cinnamon scrolls are so good they have the ability to make a grown man weep with joy.

  “Sure, I’ll get right on that,” he retorts. “Right after I remember why we’re even friends in the first place after your latest betrayal.”

  Fucking dramatic much?

  As much good as it does for the community, it isn’t until opening day of the picnic that I remember how much I fucking hate people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an asshole, at least not to their faces, but Jesus Christ would it kill people to get off their phones and watch where they’re going every once and a while? If you ask them, it probably fucking would.

  Aside from dealing with the usual teething problems that come from dealing with an event of this magnitude, everything is running pretty smoothly so far. Vendors are setting up in the marquees that line the edge of the fairground we talked city council into letting us use at no cost, and the stage where the live music will be played is already erected. Every year the picnic has gotten bigger, more people have gotten involved, and as such, there’s more to oversee. Not my favorite job, but someone’s gotta do it.

  Last year, some halfwit suggested the idea of a kissing booth. Fuck me, what are we, twelve? But regardless of my openly hostile disagreement, majority ruled and I’m loathe to admit it but it was a screaming success. That could have something to do with the fact, Amity offered herself as tribute and she’s everyone’s type. Except mine, that is.

  As beautiful as Amity is with her long dark hair, unique violet eyes, and tiny stature that triggers every man’s protective instincts, she just doesn’t do it for me. I see her as a sister and the thought of being attracted to her is borderline abhorrent to me. Not to mention, I like my women young, blonde, and with an air of innocence which is a huge departure from everything Amity embodies.

  “Hey, Ryker,” Seamus O’Connor shouts, breathing heavily as he skids to a stop beside me.

  “What’s up?” I ask distractedly as I oversee the dunk tank being set up.

  “Amity has strep throat,” he says, his tone laced with panic. “I found out from Mary, who heard it from Stella when she was setting up her stall. I’ve been asking around but there aren’t many people who are willing to kiss a whole bunch of strangers, even if it is for a good cause.”

  “Take a breath, Seamus. I’ll put out some feelers but if we can’t find anyone it’s no biggie.”

  “What?” He gasps. “Last year we made over a thousand dollars off that booth alone. I know you weren’t a fan of the idea when it was first put forward but it’s a huge drawcard, Ryker.”

  While it pains me to think about how much good that extra money could have done, it’s only a small portion of the total we’re set to raise today. A thousand dollars is a decent amount of cash in anyone’s language, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s fuck all I can do about it if no one’s willing to volunteer.

  “Keep looking. I’ll get the boys to ask around too, and see what we come with. Don’t get your hopes up, though Seamus because like you said, there’s not a lot of people willing to risk bad breath and poor oral hygiene just to make a few bucks.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Seamus breathes a sigh of relief. “If I don’t get back to you it means I found someone.”

  “That’ll work,” I nod as he scurries off back to wherever he came from.

  A few hours later with the event in full swing, I spot Rueben and Kael over by the BBQ tent in what looks to be a heated discussion. A rarity for those two.

  Best friends since Reuben punched Kael in the face in third grade for looking at his sister wrong, those two are usually thick as thieves. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were separated at birth with how in sync they are with each other. They operate on the same wavelength, have the same sense of humor, and identical interests to boot. I can count on one hand the number of arguments they’ve had over the years and they all begin and end with, Amity.

  For eighteen months, Kael and Amity were an item. If you’d asked anyone, they would have told you those two were destined for each other and wedding bells were in their future. But then, four months ago out of the blue, they were over. No, big, nasty break up. No, knockdown, drag-out arguments. They were just done. Over in a way, I don’t know if they’ll find their way back to one another. Which is a crying fucking shame if you ask me.

  “Do I need to break the flexi cuffs out or are you two gonna play nice?” I hedge.

  Looking me over with an assessing eye, Reuben responds with, “Depends on if we have to contain you when Kael man’s up and tells you what he just saw.”

  “Fuck you, asshole,” Kael snaps, punching him in the arm. “Way to throw a brother under the bus.”

  “It’s truck dickhead, and stop being such a pussy.” Throwing up his hand, Reuben cautions, “And if you make one comment about my sister right now, I’ll forget I love your dumb ass and drown you in the dunk tank.” Kael smirks evilly but thankfully, for all of us but moreover, his own safety keeps his mouth shut.

  Exasperated with them, I demand, “Will one of you just tell me what the fuck is going on? I have better shit to do than stand here and listen to you bicker like an old married couple.”

  Kael and Reuben close in on me from both sides, a well practiced move I’ve seen time and time again. We call it the corral and contain, a maneuver the police use when trying to de-escalate a potentially volatile situation.

  Reuben starts. “I’ve been doing crowd checks to make sure we’re within fire code regulations, which left Kael here to watch over the marquees. Acco
rding to him, Seamus managed to talk Seraphina into manning the kissing booth.”

  Before he can get another word out, I explode into action. I adeptly avoid their hands as they make a grab for me and begin weaving through throngs of people who are unwittingly about to become witnesses to their first homicide.

  My blood heats to boiling point. My heart races, beating erratically in my chest. I can’t control the seething rage I feel at the prospect of any man who is not me putting their filthy mouths on what is mine. Seraphina and I might be new, but no one can deny that we’re together, not even her. It was a battle, convincing her to accept she was my future, but since she came around to the idea, she’s been all in.

  After our second date, I walked her to the door and kissed her goodnight. It was a chaste kiss, gentle, meant to test the waters. What I got in return was a nasty case of blue balls and a carnal need to devour her whole.

  It wasn’t until the end of our fourth date that, Seraphina gave me full, unrestricted access to her beautiful mouth. We broke apart what felt like hours after I started kissing her, her back pressed against her front door and her legs wrapped around my waist, gasping for air. I could have kissed her forever. The taste of her mouth was decadent, her lips plump and ripe for the picking. The scent of her vanilla perfume, subtle and sweet like her made me crave the chance to smell that scent all over my sheets.

  It was agony letting her go that night. I hated the look of disappointment that flashed in her eyes as I kissed her forehead and told her I’d see her tomorrow. But it was too fast. Too soon. I need her as desperate for me as I am for her before we take things to the next level, which with any luck would be soon because I’m pretty sure I’ll get RSI if I have to continue jerking off three times a day, every day just to slake my desire for her.

  My feet come to a dead stop as I take in the scene in front of me. Men of all ages, some as young as high school seniors are lined up by the dozens, all of them waiting impatiently for their chance to touch someone that isn’t theirs. And right at the front of that fucking queue is none other than fucking, Jack.

  Motherfucker!

  This is the final straw. I can handle his laziness and insubordination at work. I can deal with the fact that I can’t fire his ass by decree of his daddy. I can even cope with keeping my men in line and stopping them from killing him on a daily basis. But what I can’t and won’t deal with is him laying a finger, or his lips as the case may be on my woman. That shit stops now.

  Marching up to the opening of the booth, my hand snakes out and grabs Seraphina's wrist as Jack leans across the table separating with his lips pursed. “Not on your fucking life,” I growl at him before pulling Seraphina toward me, tucking her into my side.

  Jack’s eyes narrow on me, his hands tighten into clenched fists at his side. None of that concerns me; I’ve got a good fifty pounds of muscle and three inches on him, I could easily take him down if the situation warranted it. What is worrying, though is the intensity of the emotions reflected in his eyes as he gazes longingly at, Seraphina.

  “What’s your problem, Ryker? The lady and I were just about to seal our transaction with a kiss.” He grins at me.

  “Ryker,” Seraphina whispers, tugging on my arm as if she knows how close I am to losing my shit.

  I tilt my head down to look at her and immediately see the censure written all over her face. Whether it’s because she doesn’t want me to kill him or she’s worried what it will say about her if I cause a scene, I don’t know but I do know I’m not going to fly off the handle and find out. I’ve worked too hard on convincing my girl to take a chance on my to turn around and fuck it all up by beating the shit out of this moron. No, I’ll deal with Jack’s ass later. Seraphina’s on the other hand, I’m going to deal with now.

  If it were up to me I’d take her over my knee and redden her perfect, heart-shaped ass for even daring to think I’d be okay with her offering herself up as the sacrificial lamb. Maybe I fucked up and didn’t make it clear enough who she belongs to and what that means. Lesson learned, and you can bet your ass I won’t be making that mistake again.

  The second I get her home - to my house this time, not hers; there’s less likelihood of escape if I get her somewhere she can’t easily run away - I’m going to lay it out for her. She’ll learn quickly that I’m a possessive man. The kind of man who doesn’t react well when his woman puts herself in unnecessary and compromising positions. Then, I’m going to allow my body to do the talking as I prove to her exactly where our relationship is going from here. The singular issue with my plan is if I’m going to be able to rein in my darker urges; the one’s Seraphina isn’t privy to as yet. The urges that nag at me night and day, the ones that means I claim and conquer, and that I do by exerting my dominance physically and mentally.

  I would never, not in a million years hurt Seraphina. I’ve spent over a decade honing my skills and controlling my reactions. I know just how far to push a woman before she’s begging me to take her, promising to do whatever I want however I want it. Anticipation, orgasm denial, scarves, rope, handcuffs when the need arises are all part of my arsenal. But never pain. Or at least not more than they can handle.

  Up until Seraphina, I selected my partners carefully. Every one of them knew the deal going in; no kissing, no emotional attachments, no repeat customers. I practiced safe, sane, consensually at an exclusive club for those of us with my particular brand of predilection. To be honest, most of the people who frequent the club are far more entrenched in the lifestyle than I am, needing more than the occasional night here and there to satiate their urges. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say I’m the most vanilla motherfucker there. I don’t do group sex, preferring my play one on one. I don’t use a flogger, paddles, clamps or any of the other complicated shit in the main playroom. My tastes run strictly to females, specifically untried ones, not because I want to take advantage of them but because I hate the misconceptions women who have been in the life for a while come with.

  It will take time to ease Seraphina into playing the way I like to, but I do plan to introduce her to the other side of me, eventually. But for right now, I know I have to go slowly with my girl. She might not be completely naive to the ways of the world, but I have a sneaking suspicion she is when it comes to men. It will be my pleasure to introduce her to what her beautiful body is capable of and how to please me.

  Starting now.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hey Jealousy ~ Gin Blossoms

  THE SABOTEUR

  Everything from the slight brush of their hands down to the simple act of him sliding her silky hair behind her ear has the fire inside me that I’ve been fighting to smother, building. But if that wasn’t bad enough, nothing is worse than watching as her eyes stare up at him like he hung the fucking moon.

  They don’t know it yet, but she is mine, not his, mine. I have spent forever playing out how it will be with us when we’re finally together in my head, so I’m sure as shit not going to let him swoop in and take that opportunity away from me. He is all she can see, clouding her vision, weaving his spell around her so that he’s all she can see. That is not happening. I refuse to allow it.

  It’s torturous for me when I am forced to see the way she drifts off, lost in her own little world, a shy smile curling her lips upwards. My mind wanders, curious if that’s how she would look if she were with me. Would that warm blush stain her cheeks? Would she smile as brightly, as if I laid the world at her feet? Because I can you know. I can give her everything her heart desires and more, as long as she comes to crave me as much as I crave her.

  I reach down and adjust myself, my erection straining against the zipper of my jeans. One thought of her and I'm as hard as steel, painfully so. Unzipping my pants, I groan and palm my hardened length, massaging the head with my thumb and spreading the precum beaded on the tip down my shaft. I picture her dark eyes staring up at me as I slowly circle my hips, thrusting in and out of her as she silently beg
s for more.

  The picture I have created in my mind forces my hand to move faster, harder, my grip becomes punishing as the vision behind my eyelids shifts from hazy to vivid. Her blonde hair, high, firm tits, tight ass, and undeniable wet cunt brings me to the precipice, but it’s the image of her delicate hand jacking me off until I cum all over her pussy that finally pushes me over the edge.

  “Fuck,” I grunt fighting to catch my breath as I cum all over my abs.

  Grabbing the closest thing I can find, which just happens to be my shirt off the floor, I clean myself up. The thought of sending her my discarded shirt as evidence of my passion for her is a compelling one, but for the time being, it may be best if I err on the side of caution. Not to mention, I want to show her up close and personal how she affects me.

  There is a war waging inside of me. One side says, fuck the consequences, go to her now so that I can tell her she can do better than the asshole she’s with currently. The other side, the more rational, levelheaded side tells me it’s too soon, that I need to bide my time until exactly the right moment before I carry out what will be my finest and final plan,

  Society says what I’m doing, what I’ve done in the past is wrong. Well, fuck them, what do they know? My father has always taught me that if you want something enough, you do everything in your power to get it which is exactly what I’m doing. Stalking, hunting, watching, laying in wait until the moment the stars align. Everything I’ve learned about Seraphina and from the mistakes I’ve made in the past will be integral in convincing the girl I’m obsessed with to love me back.

  What life has taught me is that there’s no room for weakness. You have to be strong and single-minded in your determination. Knowing this now, I realize that’s where I went wrong the first time I set my sights on a pretty girl who wouldn’t give me the time of day.