DIRTY ALPHAS: The Alpha Bad Boy Collection

by Franca Storm

  His hand slides further up my shirt and he squeezes my left boob through my bra roughly. Very roughly. I whimper into his mouth in protest. He misinterprets my reaction and maneuvers me beneath him so that he’s straddling me on the couch.

  Panic flares up inside me. I fight to push it down. We’re just making out. Relax.

  And I manage it.

  Until he grinds his dick against me so hard that I can feel the entirety of his hard length as though there was nothing at all between us; no jeans, no shorts.

  And when his fingers sweep down to the belt of my jeans and start to work to unclasp it; that’s it for me. I’m done. The panic has free rein. I can’t stop it.

  But I need to stop him.

  I pull my lips from his and gasp, “No.”

  He doesn’t stop and, instead, moves his lips back to mine.

  I jerk my head away. “Axel. No. Stop.”

  “Just relax. It’s gonna be fine. You’ll like it. I promise.”

  His words send a shiver down my spine. “Axel! Stop!” I yell, frantically.

  This time he listens and his hands leave me. He sits back, still straddling me, and holds up his hands. “Okay. We’ve stopped. Okay, Nicki?” he says, suddenly all concerned and understanding again.

  I thrust my hands into his chest, pushing him off me and I scramble off the couch. “No. It’s not okay. I told you three times!”

  I don’t know whether I’m more angry or more embarrassed or more…frightened.

  “I’m sorry, babe. You make it difficult to stop.”

  My eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”

  His gaze rakes over me and he licks his bottom lip. “You’re fucking gorgeous. And that body…touching you…it’s addictive.”

  Huh. I wasn’t expecting that. Quite the compliment. But still! He should’ve stopped. “Whatever,” I respond harshly.

  He gets off the couch and approaches me. “May I?” he asks, gesturing to my hands.

  Stunned by this odd side of him, I end up nodding my permission.

  He takes both my hands in his and says, “I am really sorry. Honestly. I’m not used to being told to stop like that. It was…difficult. I’m not sure you realize how difficult. But I know now. I know where the line is for you. Okay? It won’t happen again.”

  I’m still skeptical. “Look, I should go.”

  “Please don’t blow me off. I really like you. Let’s not let one misunderstanding derail this thing between us.”

  Shit, is he begging me now? He really likes me? Wow, this is new. Unlike John, he’s actually putting himself out there. And clearly he’s not afraid to do it either. Hmm…I like this.

  Yeah, he’s right. He just made a mistake. I’m too uptight. It’s me. He’s a laid back guy and he’s not used to this…crap of mine. It’s not his fault; it’s mine.

  “Okay,” I say, smiling at him. “You’re right. I overreacted.”

  “Yeah,” he tells me. “Now, you wanna finish watching the movie? I won’t lay a finger on you again for the rest of the night. I swear it. Okay?”

  I nod. “All right. You promise though?”

  “I do.”

  I let him lead me back to the couch and he moves right over to the opposite end to me, intent on keeping his word. I breathe a sigh of relief and curl my legs up over on my side. He winks at me and flashes me a reassuring smile. It makes me relax almost instantly and I lean my head back against the couch ready to enjoy the rest of the movie.

  Chapter 13

  ~John~

  “You owe me! I did it last time!” I yell back into the apartment as I walk into the hallway with a garbage bag slung over my shoulder.

  “I picked up the beer! Again!” Mitch yells back at me.

  I laugh. Dammit. He’s got me there. I walk down the hall until I reach the garbage shoot. I haul it open and shove the bag in there, making sure I push it all the way in. I hate it when lazy-ass people fail to do that. It’s a blatant lack of respect.

  I turn around to make my way back to the apartment when I collide with someone coming in the other direction.

  “Shit, sorry, I—” I stop as I realize it’s Nicki.

  She’s coming home now? It’s 3am. It’s not like her to stay out so late.

  “Hi. Sorry about smacking into you.”

  “Hey,” she returns.

  There’s no warmth in her voice and her expression is pure stone, no emotion. She’s still mad at me about earlier then. Mad at me? How about Axel? Argh!

  “How was your night?” I ask casually. Am I fishing for information? Definitely.

  “Fine.”

  I study her for a moment as I try to think of what to say next. Everything I end up saying lately just seems to upset her.

  But then my thought process grinds to a halt as I notice her shirt. It’s way too big for her, even with the way she’s wearing it tied on both sides. It’s a guy’s shirt.

  I can’t stop myself now. “Is that his?” I ask, making no attempt whatsoever to hide my absolute, utter disgust.

  “Yeah. I spilled beer on mine so he lent this to me.”

  She gestures to a tank top laid over the top of her gym bag. I see the beer stains on it. She’s clearly telling the truth, but it doesn’t make it any better. Why? Because she took her shirt off at the frat house to put his on. He probably saw her in her fucking bra. And that’s something I can’t deal with rationally.

  “Huh,” I respond through gritted teeth. “Did he tell you to keep it?”

  “What? What kind of question is that?”

  “I’m just making conversation,” I lie. Tell me. Tell me. It’s important. I need to know.

  “He…uh…yeah.”

  “Wow,” I say cryptically, flashing her a look that I know will bug the hell out of her. She hates not knowing. She’ll have to ask me what I mean by it. Just like I want her to.

  Her eyes narrow and she studies me for a moment as she tries to figure it out. And then she walks the couple of feet to her apartment and fumbles with her keys at the door. I walk back to my own. I’m a step away when she calls out to me.

  “What, John? What is it? Tell me, please.”

  I smile to myself and turn around. “Mark of possession.”

  Our eyes lock briefly and then she blushes as she gets it. It’s a throwback to my earlier comment about the frat guys, especially Axel, claiming their women.

  I walk into my apartment and shut the door, leaving her to take it in. That should do it. It’ll freak her out—the whole claiming shit. It should be enough to keep her away from him. A way that, unlike what happened today, won’t make me look like a crazed fucking maniac.

  Yeah, it’s a low blow to mess with her head, but I can’t think of another way to make her hear me.

  When I was a kid I was so damn shy. It’s what drew me to music in the first place. Kids used to bully me. And then I learned how to fight at my uncle’s gym and it changed everything. It gave me a power that I’d never had before. Since my teenage years, I’ve never backed down on anything. It’s always been my way or nothing. I’ve always got what I wanted, when I wanted it. Taken what I wanted, had people doing what I wanted. I’ve been the leader in every situation—in the band, with women, back when I went to the gym regularly and no one could beat me.

  But with this situation with Nicki and Axel, it’s like all that’s been stripped away; like my power is gone. And I can’t fucking handle it.

  So, I’ll do whatever the hell I need to; stoop to whatever low is necessary to keep that dangerous piece of shit away from her.

  Chapter 14

  ~Nicki~

  “You stupid little bitch!” Greg roars as I crash into my bedroom wall.

  I scramble to turn around and I see him rubbing his cheek where I just punched him. He stalks towards me. I try to get to my feet but I’m disorientated from smacking my head into the drywall.

  He’s on me again before I know it, hauling me to my feet and pushing me roughly against the wall. I see
the beer bottle in his hand. He sees me looking and for some reason it incenses him. He smashes it against my desk beside us and the bottle neck breaks off from the impact. He grips the neck and holds it in front of my face, his hands shaking with barely-contained fury.

  “You shouldn’t have stopped me. Now I’m not gonna be gentle about it.” He grips my neck with his free hand and squeezes hard, forcing a sputtering gag to erupt from my throat. “Now I’m gonna take you hard. Brutally, Nicola. How do you like that?”

  His hand slides under my skirt. I clamp my legs shut.

  “Stop!” I scream. “Stop it!”

  He smiles maliciously, baring his disgusting crooked and decaying teeth. He’s so close that I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He smashes his fist into my face. Hard. I cry out and it just enrages him more.

  “Shut up!” he snarls.

  I spit in his face and try to buck him off me. But he’s too strong. Shit, how do I do this? I don’t know crap about self-defense.

  He wipes his face and his eyes are black as they bore into mine. They flick to the beer bottle. And before I know what’s happening, he jabs it into my left arm. I scream as it tears through my flesh. It’s searing, excruciating. He twists it and I fight the overwhelming urge to throw up from the overload of agony.

  The only thing I’m still aware of is his hand sliding further up my skirt, between my legs. All I can do is scream as he pushes my panties aside.

  And then I hear a thunderous smack. My bedroom door.

  He’s ripped away from me a second later.

  “You fucking piece of shit!” a familiar voice roars.

  A wave of light-headedness assaults me and I collapse to the floor. All I can hear is crashing, thudding and swearing. I force myself to look up and that’s when I look upon my rescuer.

  John Kingston.

  My eyes snap open and I bolt up in bed, screaming in absolute terror. I can’t breathe. I can’t…I can’t stop shaking. I’m faintly aware of an aggressive knock at the door.

  “Nicki! Open the door, sweetheart! Nicki!”

  Several moments pass before I return to reality and realize what’s happening. I climb out of bed and unlock the door. I’ve barely opened it a crack when he pushes through and flings his arms around me.

  “John,” I sob against his chest.

  “I heard you. It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says softly into my hair.

  I look up at him. “I’m sorry I was so loud. I’m okay. I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

  He kicks the door shut and locks it. “No.”

  He picks me up before I can utter a protest and carries me to the bed.

  “Close your eyes and try to go back to sleep. I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you,” he says as he tucks me back into bed.

  He walks around the bed and climbs in on the other side. But, unlike normal, he doesn’t get under the covers with me. Instead, he lies on top of them and wraps his arms around me over the covers.

  I eye him in question.

  “You’re naked,” he tells me.

  What? Oh shit. I am, aren’t I? “I—”

  “It’s okay. Go back to sleep now,” he whispers in my ear.

  I nod and close my eyes. I open them a moment later. I find him gazing at me…lovingly? “John?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “I’m scared.”

  His arms tighten around me and he tells me, “There’s no need to be. I’ve got you.”

  “Thank you,” I say as I close my eyes again.

  He strokes my hair soothingly.

  That’s the last thing I remember before I fall asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 15

  ~John~

  “Another tattoo, huh? Where and what?” I ask into my earpiece as I pull my truck into the parking lot of my apartment building.

  “I don’t know yet. Maybe something to do with boxing. Or, something musical. Kinda like your guitar, but not a rip off of that,” Nicki answers.

  I laugh. “I don’t mind if you get one identical to mine.”

  “Yeah right. I know you, John.”

  “I’d allow it for you. But if anyone else copies it, I swear to God, I’ll kick their ass.”

  She giggles. Damn, I love that sweet sound. “You tough little shit. No, I won’t copy yours. But thanks for the offer.”

  “I’ll help you figure something out. Where, though? I need something to work with.”

  “I’m thinking on one of my boobs.”

  “What? Really?” Images of her perfect tits flash in my mind and I fight to push them away before my dick starts reacting. Stop it, asshole.

  “No, I’m just messing with you.”

  “Are you blushing right now?” I ask, picturing just that. Just the slightest sexual reference can have her turning red. She’s so shy; just another thing that makes her unbelievably cute.

  “Me? Blush? Never.”

  We both burst out laughing.

  “So, when are you coming out of hibernation? I miss you.”

  “I just have one more assignment. It’s the big one.”

  “That fucking thesis on personality disorder?”

  “Yep.”

  “You need my help? A study buddy?”

  She scoffs. “You? Come on, John.”

  She’s got me there. I’m not exactly a straight-A student. Far from it. She always lectures me that I could be if I applied myself. But my focus is directed elsewhere. On the band.

  “Yeah, I hear you. I’ll let you get back to it. See you in a couple of days?”

  “Yeah. Ready to get our song writing on?”

  “You bet. See you, sweetheart.”

  “Nite nite.”

  She hangs up. Nite nite. So cute. Always so damn cute.

  I tap my earpiece, switching it off and grab my cell phone out of its holder by the dash. Sliding it into my leather jacket pocket, I climb out of the truck. I switch on the alarm and stuff my keys into my jeans.

  Before I can even take a step towards the building, something slams into me from behind. I stumble into the driver’s door and before I can regain my balance properly, something crashes into my side. A boot, I realize. I hit the concrete. Fuck.

  I roll to my side. Big mistake. A fist plows into my right cheek, just narrowly missing my nose. Phew. It’s already been broken too many times.

  I look up to see Axel standing over me with two of his frat buddies by his side.

  “Are you done?” I demand.

  “Get. Up,” he orders.

  I don’t move. No one tells me what to do. “Is this about the other day?”

  “Of course it’s about that. What the fuck do you think it’s about?”

  “Do guys like you need a reason?”

  Most guys in my position would probably shut the fuck up. But I’m not most guys. And, besides, shutting my mouth isn’t gonna make this any less painful for any of us.

  Axel kicks my thigh. “Get up!”

  I smirk at him and climb to my feet. “That almost hurt.”

  Fury flashes in his eyes. “It’s about to.”

  Does he really think he’s gonna succeed in intimidating me here? I’m not a guy who’s gonna piss himself over getting into a fight—even if it is three against one—because I’m used to it. Hell, I’ve trained for this. “You think attacking a guy when his back’s turned and bringing along two guys as back up makes you any less of a pussy, Craven?”

  He gestures to his guys and they take position; one either side of me.

  “You sure you wanna do this?” I warn him even as adrenaline spikes through me and my body decides this is on either way.

  “Oh, you have no idea how much I wanna watch you in pain and begging me for mercy, you piece of shit. I’ve waited too long to wipe that cocky smirk off your face.”

  Hmm. Pretty good trash talk. He must watch a lot of movies.

  I feel the guy to my left make his move. He’s so slow and clumsy about it. I kick the guy to my right to get
him out of my way and then I spin into the fist coming at my back from Lefty. I block it with my palm and jerk it hard to the right. I hear the satisfying sound of a snap and he screams like a little bitch. I sweep my leg at him, ripping his feet right out from under him and he crashes to a heap at my feet. Weaving my fingers into his hair I jerk his head back and then slam it into the wheel well of my truck. Thankfully, it’s built like a goddamn tank and sturdy enough to take the hit without denting it, which is more than I can say for Lefty who writhes on the floor, clutching his bloodied face and whimpering.

  Meaty arms wrap around my shoulders and I know it’s Righty—the biggest out of the three of them. He tugs me backwards with him and my hands grip his, wrestling against his powerful hold. The guy must have at least a hundred pounds on me. Shit.

  Before I can get him off my back—literally—Axel steps in front of me and yells to him, “Hold him steady!”

  I watch Axel clench his fists. He’s such a fucking amateur that he makes the mistake of glancing at exactly where he intends to hit. As he comes at me, I instinctively flex my abs as tightly as I possibly can. I’m really fucking thankful my uncle convinced me to keep working out at his gym a few times a month. These are my greatest defense right now against broken ribs. That’s the last thing I need. They take too long to heal.

  His fist plunges right into my abs. When he pulls back he looks at me in surprise. I know it’s because I didn’t double over. It pisses him off and he hits me again. And again. It takes a sustained effort on my part to resist the urge to react and give him what he wants as he lands a total of four hits. I’m lucky he’s such a pussy and his hits aren’t that hard.

  Finally he stops and moves into me. He thrusts his fist into my face, his knuckles grazing my lips, and the all-too-familiar coppery taste of blood trickles into my mouth.

  “Which hand do you use to play guitar?” he demands.

  “Both, you fucking idiot.”

  He nods to Righty who’s still holding me across my shoulders. The guy shifts his grip and I feel both hands move to my right arm.

  “Break it,” Axel orders.

  I smirk at him because he just took one step too close. Time to fight dirty with dirty.