The Dirty Dozen: Alpha Edition

by Kay Maree

  Fucking perfect.

  I managed to scrape through the rest of the ceremony by the power of wine and drinking on an empty stomach, and Deone, my best friend, keeping both the laughter and the drinks flowing. By the time I made it to the after party at the grand ballroom, I was more than merry, and set on having a good time. I deserved it, given the crap I’d been through lately.

  I took to the dancefloor, and once I started dancing, didn’t seem to be able to stop. My body kind of took over my mind, and I was all about the music.

  “You’re the sexiest woman in this room by a long way.”

  The words spoken right into my ear shocked me out of my reverie, and my body stilled immediately.

  “No, don’t stop. The way you move is hot as hell.”

  Without even turning around to see who was speaking, I resumed dancing, this time making sure the slow figure of eight I was making with my body had me rubbing against what was unmistakably a hard-on, as it rubbed against my butt. Holy shit it was a turn-on. I had no idea if it was the alcohol making me feel that way—although I hadn’t had a drink in at least an hour, maybe longer—or the fact that I’d just been dumped, or that I’d been shat on again by my record label, or that I’d been passed over for an award.

  All I knew was it was one of the most arousing things I’d ever experienced. Dry fucking an anonymous stranger on the middle of a dance floor was definitely one to tick off the bucket list. Not that it had ever been on it. Take that, Jonathan. Who needs you, anyway?

  As I raised my hands and secured them behind mystery man’s neck, drawing him closer to me, he thrust his erection harder into my butt, and lowered his mouth to my ear again.

  “Christ. You’re hotter than hell on a Sunday. I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone so much in my entire life.”

  Thoughts zapped through my mind at warp speed, but the only one I could make any kind of sense of was a solitary word. Yes.

  I was young free and single, and had four years’ worth of wild oats to sow, so why the hell not? If there was one thing guaranteed to set me on the road to recovery from the break-up, it was meaningless, dirty sex with a stranger.

  I opened my eyes, and sought out Deone’s. I wasn’t surprised to find her watching me—everything I was doing was pretty out of character—she was probably wondering what the hell was going on.

  I raised an eyebrow in question, hoping she’d be quick to catch my meaning. When she smiled lightly back, then gave me a discreet thumbs up, I knew she had. If the guy had looked like the ogre from under the bridge, she would have found a way to give me an ‘abort mission!’ signal.

  As it was, instead of running a mile in the opposite direction, I turned toward the warm body, tilting my head to meet a pair of deep brown eyes. Oh shit. Of all the people in the whole room, why the fuck was it him? My mind wavered for a moment, thinking that maybe I should abort after all.

  “Let’s get out of here.” His voice was low and commanding. I could tell he meant business. I wasn’t sure whether he’d read my indecision, but it was a very well-timed instruction. I put my doubts aside—I’d come this far, why not let it play out all the way?

  I nodded, and let him lead me from the packed dancefloor, and out of the room. As he strode down the hall, and stopped at the cloakroom, I assumed he was collecting his coat, so that we could go on somewhere else.

  “Take a break and close up for a while.” He spoke to the cloakroom attendant as though he owned the place. No, as though he owned the world. Arrogance wasn’t normally a trait I looked for in a man, but somehow his commanding douchebag routine was pushing all my buttons.

  “Excuse me? I can’t just—”

  He reached into the inside pocket of his tux jacket, retrieved a wad of notes, and thrust them at her. “You can. I mean it. Take. A. Break.” She hesitated for a split second, looking at the notes suspiciously, before reaching for them. Then she exited her booth hurriedly, closing the serving doors as she did.

  My “date” turned to me, pulling me toward the cloakroom.

  “Come on.”

  My moral compass told me to refuse—anonymous sex in a closet wasn’t usually my style, but then again, it was an abnormal day at the end of an epically abnormal week. Moral compass be damned! I followed him into the cloakroom.

  The door was barely shut behind us before he was up against me. “Take off your panties.”

  “Wha—?”

  “You heard me. I want you from behind, and I don’t need them getting in the way.”

  “I’m not wearing any.” It was the truth. My slinky fitted dress didn’t leave room for underwear—not even a thong.

  “Fuck. You’re killing me here.” He pounced on me then, crashing his lips to mine in a punishing kiss. It couldn’t have been more different from kissing Jonathan, and I was glad. Different from Jonathan was exactly what I needed. When we finally came up for air I was close to coming, without him even touching me below the waist.

  “I want you.” My voice was thick with lust.

  “I know. Turn around a brace yourself against the wall.”

  As I followed his instructions, I came to my senses a little. “Condom?”

  “Yeah, I have it covered.”

  Thank God.

  I watched him over my shoulder, admiring his junk as he sheathed up. His dick was as pretty as the rest of him. No surprises there.

  He approached me, placing one hand next to one of mine on the wall, the other to my waist, and his mouth to just below my ear.

  “I’m gonna fuck you till you forget whatever it is you don’t want to remember.”

  He pushed hard into me, and made good on his promise. When my orgasm exploded through my body, I forgot everything except him.

  CHAPTER ONE

  KING

  As the almost-too-hot water flowed over my body, I leaned one forearm on the glass shower screen, then rested my forehead on it heavily. With the other hand I gripped myself, squeezing hard and pumping fast. I scrunched my eyes shut too, blocking out the reality of what I was doing. I hated coming this way, but I also hated going through the day with blue balls, so it was a case of a means to an end.

  I hadn’t found anyone I would even vaguely consider sticking my dick into at the end of the gig the night before, so it was a rare night when I’d passed out alone after drinking way too much, and woken up the next morning with the raging boner from hell.

  Well, the drinking too much part wasn’t rare, but the alone part was. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Still, I hated the frustrated feeling waking with unspent wood gave me, so I would rather jack off, even if was the most unsatisfying kind of orgasm in the world.

  I opened my eyes just in time to see a thick stream of cum splatter onto the shower screen, and to meet a pair of dark brown eyes locked with mine.

  “Jesus Rome. What the fuck are you doing? Can’t you see I’m kind of busy right now?”

  “Busy slapping your own salami? Who cares? Nothing I haven’t seen a billion times before, and I need to pee.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

  He was right. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, one way or another. We always shared an adjoining suite for exactly that reason. Not to watch each other come, but because there were no secrets between us. No boundaries to speak of, either. And it was easier to be able to access each other’s rooms when we needed to, than to be in separate rooms, maybe even on separate floors.

  When an idea popped into our heads, we needed to thrash it out while it was fresh and raw, not to have to hunt the other person down, probably forgetting what the fuck we needed to say, and ending up pissed off and frustrated.

  This way, we pretty much always knew where to find the other person, and if that meant we occasionally stumbled in on them jerking off, neither of us really gave a damn. As for watching each other fuck, that was an entirely different matter. We’d purposely witnessed that more times than most people had broken bread with t
heir friends. The shock factor had worn off years ago.

  Now it had less impact than seeing Rome brush his teeth or tune his cello. In fact, I’d be more shocked to see him giving a fuck, and taking a professional approach to his work, than I would to see him screwing. He definitely applied himself way more to the second task than the first, although he was arguably at least as talented at the former as the latter. However, Rome’s interests and his strengths were two very different things.

  He was one of the most horrifically gifted people I’d ever met—the physical embodiment of the saying that some people were born with an unfair amount of talent. It was almost unbelievable, as was the fact that his natural ability was inversely proportional to the fucks he gave about said talent. He routinely did the bare minimum he could get away with—which for someone with his gifts was laughably little—but he still always came out on top, no matter what.

  I was the opposite. I was the physical embodiment of the fact that with a decent, but not excessive amount of skill, and the recommended ten thousand hours of training required to reach virtuosic proportions in any discipline, great things could happen. Well, not great, but pretty fucking good. Except it had probably been more than twenty thousand hours, and I still wasn’t as good as Rome if he never practiced a day. He probably came out of the womb playing as well as I did as a grown adult, with years of the best classical training that money could buy.

  “Well take your fucking piss, and stop ogling my junk.”

  “What, so you can ogle mine?”

  “Ha! You wish. Nope. I’m gonna have to take another shower to wash away the fact that I just jerked off while staring into your eyes. Pee, and get out before I lose my shit.”

  “Hahahaha! Okay Waspy Boy, I’m shaking in my boots.” His lips quirked into his signature smirk, and I fought the urge to swipe it from his face.

  “Eat a dick.”

  “That’s the best offer I’ve had all morning. Open the door, I’m coming in.”

  Christ. He was a pain in my left ball. I loved and hated him in equal measure most days. I cupped my hands and splashed water over the top of the shower at him. While he laughed maniacally, I turned my back on him and got on with showering for the second time. He wasn’t going to leave me in peace as long as I kept engaging him in banter. The only way to get him to go away was to freeze him out, and even that approach was only ever partially successful. I did have a few tricks up my sleeve from years of dealing with him, though

  “Remember we have that meeting with the label later. Maybe try not to dress like a street urchin this time.” I knew exactly what buttons to press to piss him off.

  “Why should I? We all know that’s exactly what I am. I’m not trying to polish that turd. I refuse to be ashamed of my humble beginnings. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Game on.

  “I’m not saying that you’ve got anything to hide, or that you should be ashamed, but there’s no need to play up that shit, either. We all know you’re a long way from your street-busking, Artful Dodger days. You’re one of the world’s most highly trained, and accomplished musicians. It wouldn’t fucking hurt you to act like who you are, for once, instead of who you used to be.”

  “Bullshit. That’s not who I used to be. It’s who I am. Right now. Today. Every day. Forever. You can take the boy from the streets, but…” He spread his arms out expansively in his legendary “here I am in all my cocky glory” pose.

  “Whatever dude. I’m just saying wear a fucking shirt and don’t show up reeking of vodka and pussy. Is that too much to ask for a business meeting? You’re a millionaire, not a fucking bum.”

  He flipped me off. Mission accomplished. That was always his answer when he had no answer.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ROME

  Speaking of pussy, as if on cue, the door to my suite opened and out stepped last night’s company. A model, if I remembered correctly.

  “Morning, Carla. This is my father, King. At least you’d think he was my father with the way he rides my ass like one.”

  She looked confused, quite rightly so, her gaze darting quickly between the two of us. I mean, I’d be confused about a father and son conversation conducted when both were butt naked in the bathroom connecting their adjoining hotel suites, and at least one of the two was sporting wood, too.

  “King, meet the delightful Carla.”

  “It’s Carolina, actually. Caro for short.” She smiled lightly, not seeming altogether too concerned that I’d spent most of the night screwing her like my life depended on it, but wasn’t entirely sure of her name.

  “That too. King, Caro. Caro, King.”

  King nodded her way, after taking the time to survey her from head to toe, and judging by the fact that his dick had sprung back to life, being fairly impressed by what he saw.

  Carla/Carolina/Caro returned the favor, taking in his fine form—including his hard-on—with a slow sweep of her eyes. A small smile graced her lips as she sashayed closer to me. When she was in front of me, she used her index finger to draw a trail across my collar bone, then dragged it slowly down the center of my chest to my waist, then lower still. She hesitated when she got to the start of my dark brown pubes, hovering close enough to my stiff dick that I could feel the heat of her palm, but not close enough to touch it. She was waiting for me to make the next move, and I didn’t hesitate in taking the hint.

  I reached up and pulled gently on her neck, bringing her lips to mine, before using my other hand to pull roughly at her waist, jerking her body toward me. I kept my gaze locked with King’s as I kissed Caro harder, shoving my mouth roughly onto hers. She kissed me back, savage in her intensity, and at the same time lifting her leg to hook it behind my butt.

  I stepped back a little, so that I was resting against the vanity to stabilize us. I reached over to the box of condoms I’d discarded there the previous night, and slipped one on quickly, only breaking gazes with King long enough to get the deed done. While I looked away. He’d gripped his dick, and as I pounded in and out of Carolina, he pumped hard, just as he had been when I’d walked into the bathroom a few minutes earlier.

  By now Carolina had both legs wrapped around me, and was riding me wildly, plundering my mouth at the same time. King’s gaze shifted slightly, and I turned my head, pulling my lips from Caro’s in order to see what he was focused on. Looking over my shoulder, I realised he was eye-fucking her in the mirror behind us.

  I turned toward him again, sliding my lips back onto Carolina’s. She had good lips. Plump, and firm, but not cosmetically enhanced. Just how I liked them. King met my eyes again, and for the next few minutes we eye-fucked while I dick-fucked Carolina, and he solo-fucked his hand. Then he slid his gaze back to hers in the mirror, and we carried on like that, alternating until I for one, couldn’t hold back anymore.

  I picked up the pace and intensity, sliding back and forth inside Carolina harder and faster, until I felt the telltale clench around me. Two more deep, hard thrusts and she was there. As her orgasm kicked off, and she came loudly and unselfconsciously, I did the same, slamming my eyes shut as I got lost in the oblivion of my climax. King’s grunts of pleasure told me he was doing the same, though I had no idea if he was still watching Carolina and me, and I didn’t really care.

  When I came down from my high, and opened my eyes again, surveying the scene, King was back under the shower, lathering himself for the third time that day, and Carolina was looking at me as though awaiting her next instruction.

  “Hey, babe, that was great. Last night too, but I gotta call it a day. Or night, or whatever. Go get dressed. I need to take a shower. We have a meeting to go to, and apparently I’m supposed to look half presentable, or some shit.”

  I flicked my gaze over to King again, and he was looking straight at me, smirking. He knew he’d won this particular battle, but we both knew that I always won the wars.

  “Sure thing. No problem.” She actually looked and sounded like she meant it, too.
My kind of girl. She unfolded her gazelle-like legs, and slid gently off my dick, then stood on tiptoes, swiping a quick kiss across my lips.

  “Ciao.” She turned toward King, giving him a small wave. She sauntered back into my room, as though it was every day she fucked one guy while both she and he eye-fucked his best friend. Then again, maybe it was.

  King opened the shower screen and stepped out of the stall, tying the thick, fluffy hotel towel around his waist.

  “Okay, so what are you waiting for? Hit the shower like you said, otherwise you’ll fail at the reeking of pussy part. Seriously, I hate these meetings with the label suits at the best of times, but this one is giving me a bad feeling from the get-go. Something just doesn’t sit right, especially with all the shit that’s been going on over there.”

  I walked into the shower and turned it back on. “Dude, you worry too much. I’m sure it’s some typical boring business bullshit. Don’t sweat it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  QUINCY

  As I pulled into the underground parking lot at Audio Dissonance Records, a feeling of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I hated these types of meetings at the best of times, but with the merger of ADR and Sonic Bully Records, a meeting could only mean bad news for me.

  Everyone with half a brain cell knew that deals like this were never what they seemed, and weren’t ever equal. Companies didn’t go into these negotiations with an evenly loaded deck, and the general rule was that the smaller and/or financially weaker of the two was inevitably swallowed by the bigger, stronger one.

  Unfortunately for me, my contract was with the little fish that was just about to get lost in the belly of the whale. I had no idea what that meant for me, but my gut told me that I was Jonah, about to be cast adrift, and some time spent poring over job ads was in my not-too-distant future. Shit.