DIRTY ALPHAS: The Alpha Bad Boy Collection

by Franca Storm

  She does as I ask and I slide the ring onto her finger. Perfect fit.

  Tears are streaming down her face now and she chokes out, “I love you so much.”

  I wrap my arms around her. “I know. I love you too, my angel.”

  As I hold her, I look out at the sun setting behind us.

  Right now, I’ve never felt so warm.

  There has never been a moment more perfect than this one. And it’s all because of Em.

  Who would have thought that two people could change one another without even trying to, without that being their intention? Just the act of being together had the power to do that for us. It brought out the best in both of us, things that we’d hidden from the rest of the world.

  It brought us out of our comfort zones and together we both found everything we’d been looking for.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ALL OR NOTHING. The Bleeding Love Series (Part 1)

  Copyright © Franca Storm (2014). All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Cover Design by Franca Storm

  Cover images provided by:

  ©Hisoka/bigstock.com Stock Photo 127575113

  ©Artem Furman/bigstock.com Stock Photo 78433322

  The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed”. Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book”.

  All or Nothing

  Damon Brookes is an alpha male to the core.

  Unapologetically arrogant.

  A renowned playboy.

  A shrewd businessman.

  That’s just on the surface.

  He’s hiding a dark, brutal past.

  A dangerous man.

  A dominant lover.

  He demands control.

  And that’s something Alana Halton won’t give.

  The best of the best.

  A guarded loner.

  A street-smart entrepreneur.

  She’s haunted by an awful past.

  A dangerous woman.

  An unyielding lover.

  Always in control.

  Sparks fly when they’re thrown together to take down a mutual enemy.

  Despite the high stakes, the burgeoning passion between them can’t be contained.

  Will it be their road to ruin, or a path to a much-needed peace?

  1

  ~Alana~

  What the hell is he doing?

  I look down at the guy nestled between my thighs, trying my best to suppress a frustrated growl. He’s lapping at my pussy like a kitten going at a saucer of milk. Slathering, drenching me with his saliva. No rhythm, no strategy. Nothing.

  I’m not asking for miracles. I just met the guy. But if there’s one thing that is a sure turn off, it’s a guy who doesn’t know what do with a pussy, especially after claiming he’s God’s gift.

  I am really not in the mood to play teacher right now. Damn, I should stop picking up guys who are clearly three sheets to the wind before we even hit the sack.

  But I’d been desperate. Not for this fool, but for a release. Anything to distract myself just for a little while.

  It’s always the same after every job. It’s just the first few hours right after. Beyond that I’m fine. It just takes a while for me to be able to compartmentalize it.

  Christ, there’s no way I’m gonna get off like this.

  “Let’s fuck.”

  He looks up at me, startled by my bluntness. He licks my arousal off his lips and tells me with a sly smile, “Not gonna say no to that.”

  He crawls up my body and straddles my hips. I watch him fumble around in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a condom and gives me a look. I’m rolling my eyes inwardly. He’s like a damned kid on Christmas morning. I watch him unbuckle his jeans, fumbling in his haste. Hurry up. I’m hoping that I can salvage this one nighter. And it all hinges on his cock. It better be fucking monstrous, that’s all I’m saying.

  He yanks his jeans down and I’m happy to see that he’s going commando. No boxers to get in the way. Nice. His cock springs free and I smile appreciatively. Yum. Yes, it’ll do nicely. A solid eight inches and some impressive girth there too. I can work with this.

  “You like what you see?” he asks me.

  Really? Will that line ever go out of fashion? I nod and lick my lips. “Uh huh.”

  He struggles with the condom and I immediately snatch it out of his hands. I rip the foil packet open with my teeth, toss it off his bed and roll the condom down over his delicious cock that’s throbbing at the light brush of my fingers. He groans in response.

  I sweep my leg at him, executing a flawless jujitsu move that switches our positions so that I’m straddling him.

  Just the way I like it.

  The only way I’ll allow it.

  “Damn,” he gasps. “That was hot.”

  You think that was hot? This is me holding back. You can’t handle the real me. But you’ll do for a quick fuck.

  I lower myself onto him, swallowing his entire length. He moans and I feel him thrusting his hips, trying to control the rhythm. Immediately, I force his arms above his head and trap them in a vice-grip with one hand. “I’m in control here. Got it?”

  He nods excitedly without argument as I knew he would. Despite all his bravado at the bar, I could tell he was a submissive lover right from the start. After all these years, I have a keener sense than most. I’ve got good radar, that’s for sure. It’s the reason I picked him. No dominant, alpha males for me. I can’t. I won’t allow that to happen. Never again.

  I start to grind on him and he moans. “Ah, shit. You’re so tight.”

  I catch him looking up at me, his eyes trying to connect with mine. Hell, no.

  I distract him by bringing my free hand to my pussy. His eyes follow every deliberate stroke of my finger through my wet folds. I pick up my pace, riding him hard, squeezing his cock tightly.

  I can tell he’s not gonna last long. His jaw clenches as he tries to hang onto his restraint. He’s panting like a bitch in heat already. But I don’t give a damn. I’m fingering myself so furiously that I can feel the burn. I know I’m close. I spread my lips open and pinch my clit hard.

  “Tell me how much you love my slick pussy sliding up and down your fucking cock. Beg me to make you come,” I command.

  “Yes! Fuck! Ride me! I love your pussy! I wanna come with you riding my cock!”

  The dirty talk gives me the push I need and I throw my head back, cursing as I come.

  “Fuck!” he roars as he feels me clench around him. His body jerks beneath me as he releases himself inside me.

  As he comes down from his orgasm, he reaches for me. I pull back quickly and lift myself off him. He grunts, but I ignore it as I snatch my panties off the floor and slip them back on.

  I can feel him watching me as I pull on my black cargo pants. I’m still wearing my bra and my white tank top. I cross to one of the armchairs in the little seating area in the corner of his bedroom and snatch up my well-worn black leather jacket. And then I reach for the most important items: my two 9mm Berettas. I slide them back into the holsters strapped to each hip and adjust my leather jacket so it hides them from view beneath it.

  “So, you gonna tell me?” he asks suddenly.

  I turn to face him, my eyebrows raised in question.

  “What you do for a living? I’ve never been with a chick who carries firearms before. You law enforcement, or something?”

  “Something.”

  I turn my back on him and walk to the bedroom door.

  “Hey, can I get your number?�
��

  I roll my eyes. “Why?” I ask, without turning around.

  “Uh…to call you, of course.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Fine, I’ll just look you up then. Julie Smith, right?”

  “Sure. You do that.” One of my many aliases. Good luck with that. “Thanks for the fuck,” I say before opening the door and getting the hell out.

  I’ve just made it out of What’s-His-Name’s apartment building when my phone starts buzzing in my inner jacket pocket. I pull it out and answer with my usual coded response, “Mario’s Pizzeria. How may I help you?”

  “I’d like to place an order,” a deep voice growls.

  I don’t recognize it at all and I have a very good memory. New client then. Let’s see what they’ve got for me. “Go ahead.”

  2

  ~Alana~

  “Mark, what’s taking so damn long? I don’t have all day,” I call from the balcony as I drag on a cigarette.

  I’m at Mark’s condo and I’m being accommodating for once, abiding by his rule of not smoking inside his place. It’s weird considering he smokes himself, but whatever. He’s doing me a favor, so I’m trying to be on my best behavior. He must think it’s his birthday or something.

  Mark Adams is my best friend. I say best, but I really mean only. It’s not that I’m an unfriendly person, despite the fact that I know I can be a bitch at times. After all, I am known as hell bitch in some circles. But those circles are made up of people who’ve made the mistake of crossing me over the years.

  In my line of work, friends are a risk. An unnecessary complication. Anything that I can’t control one hundred percent is a complication. And the consequences of relinquishing control with doing what I do would be dire—either landing me in jail or getting me killed. No thanks.

  But Mark is different. When we met he had just left the Special Forces. I helped him through a nasty case of PTSD; having dealt with similar demons myself when I’d first started out doing what I do now—work that exposed me to things like those demons that’d haunted him. We’d grown close during that time to the point of forming a friendship. He works private security now and we often exchange intel on cases and targets.

  Right now he’s running a background check on my latest client, Robert Cartwright. I always check out my clients before I agree to a job. It’s just common sense. The last thing I need is some client trying to fuck me over and outing me to the cops to pass the heat to me after I get the job done that they hired me to do.

  “It’s an alias, right? They usually are,” I call.

  “No. It’s the real deal,” Mark calls back.

  What? I hastily butt out my smoke with the heel of my steel-toe boot and stride back into the living room. Mark is sitting on the wraparound black leather couch leaning over his laptop and typing away furiously. I plop down beside him and lean over him to get a look at the screen.

  “Lower your head just a little and you’ll be primed for sucking me off.”

  My gaze snaps to his and I realize immediately that he’s right. I’ve unwittingly put myself in an awkward position. Shit, if it was anyone but Mark we’d be having a bit of a problem right about now.

  “Is that an invitation?” I joke, as I sit back against the couch, deciding to let him give me his report instead.

  “Always,” he responds with a devilish smirk. And then I see his smile fade as he adds, “Just waiting for you to get tired of fucking those clueless limp-dick morons you always go home with.”

  An expression that I can’t place passes over his face briefly. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. What the hell was that? “None of them come home with me. You know my rules, Mark.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I know. Always their place. I’m glad. You’ve gotta watch your back doing what you do.”

  I hear the judgment in his tone immediately. Here we go again. “You really wanna go there again, Mark?”

  His eyes meet mine and I see him think about it for a moment. He lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “No. Forget it.”

  “Good,” I say. “Anyway, I’m not gonna take this job. The target doesn’t fit my profile.”

  “You’re picky for a contract killer, Alana.”

  “Because I don’t kill innocents? That makes me picky?”

  He shakes his head. “No, because you only kill known murderers or those who abuse women.”

  “The way it’ll always be.”

  “Not this time.” He slams the lid of his laptop shut and adjusts his weight on the couch so that he’s facing me. His gaze is intense and I immediately see the concern etched all over his face. “You have to take this job.”

  “What?”

  “You have no choice.”

  My eyes narrow. “Excuse me? I decide whether I take a job, not the client.”

  His hand shoots out and grips my right arm tightly. Painfully. But, being more than accustomed to a little pain, I barely flinch. His eyes bore into mine as he tells me, “This guy is dangerous, Alana. Even for you. He’s ex-military and a former mercenary. The guy’s a legend in my circles—for all the wrong reasons. He’s a ruthless bastard. No one denies him anything he wants. He’s a sadist.” He studies me for a moment and then shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but you can’t pay him a visit. He’s not like your other clients. For one thing, you won’t be able to find him. The guy’s a genius. He knows how to hide, Al. I don’t know how he got your number, but now that he has, you’re his. You have to take this job. He’s not asking.”

  Stunned, I don’t say anything for several minutes as I try to absorb the realities of what Mark has just told me.

  “Who’s the target?” he asks suddenly.

  “Damon Brookes.”

  His eyes widen. “What? You’re serious? Fuck! That’s why you were so hesitant to take this job, despite the massive paycheck.”

  I nod. “He’s high profile and I don’t like high profile. And—”

  “And he’s basically the king of the underground in this city.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I’m discreet. No…he’s not…he doesn’t deserve to die.”

  Mark scoffs. “He’s not exactly a saint.”

  “But he’s not the Devil either.” I get to my feet and start pacing. It always helps me to think.

  “Alana, if you don’t take this job, Cartwright will put out a hit on you. It’s you or Brookes. Kill or be killed.”

  I smash my fist down on the coffee table. “No one controls me! Get me Cartwright’s location!” I thunder. I haven’t even met the client and already the guy’s making my blood boil. I hate puppet masters. This guy certainly isn’t gonna be pulling my strings. He has no idea who he’s dealing with.

  “Alana,” Mark says in his softest voice. It’s the one he always uses when I’m in a fit of rage. The one that can usually reach through the red haze of ire clouding my thoughts and actions alike. But right now it’s not working. I’m too riled up.

  “How long until you can locate him?” I demand, my tone rough and abrasive.

  “I need a few days. The guy’s good, Alana. I’ll have to take it to my military intelligence contacts.”

  I run my fingers through my hair with exasperation. “All right. Until then, I’ll lay low.” I walk back to him and plant a chaste kiss on his shaved head. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Be careful,” he says, gripping my arms and pulling me into him for a hug.

  I wrap my arms around him, my fingers brushing the soft cotton of his white tank. His huge biceps squeeze the life out of me and I feel his Glock strapped to his jeans pressing against my own weapon at my right hip. Mark is the only guy I allow to hug me. The only guy I would ever allow to touch me without giving my permission first. Purely platonic though—well, except for a couple of accidental drunken fucks. He’s the only guy I trust. And when I say trust, I mean with my life. And it works both ways. We both know we have each other’s backs all the way.

  “A
lways,” I respond as I finally break away.

  3

  ~Damon~

  I look down at the blonde lapping up the last traces of my cum that I just shot down her throat, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock like a fucking tornado. So eager, just like the rest of them. Watching her is starting to get me riled up again and I fist my hand in her hair, ripping her head from my cock.

  Only once. That’s all they get. My rule. And a damn good one. The last thing I want is them getting attached. Fuck those complications. Exactly what I don’t need in my line of work. Control. I need to maintain it at all costs, in all situations.

  “Time to go,” I order her, gesturing to my office door.

  She gets to her feet and looks at me with confusion, like she hasn’t heard me correctly.

  “Get. Out.”

  “What? I thought we—”

  “What? You thought what? We were gonna spoon here on my couch? Cuddle? Talk about our feelings? No, babe. You were a good fuck and now it’s over, it’s time for you to leave. I have work to do.”

  She makes a move to slap me and I step out of the way. I can’t help grinning. It’s incredibly amusing that she thought she could actually land a hit. She really has no idea who she’s dealing with.

  And she never will.

  None of them will.

  “You’re such an asshole!” she shrieks.

  I snatch her halter top off the floor and toss it to her. “Sure, I’m an asshole if that makes you feel better about yourself for blowing a guy you just met, because of his name.”

  “What?” she snaps as she hastily pulls on her halter.

  “You spread your legs for me as soon as I introduced myself.”

  “You’re disgusting!”

  “You weren’t complaining earlier, babe.”

  “Argh. I can’t believe I let you touch me!” she screams as she storms towards the door, teetering unsteadily on her six-inch stilettos.

  “If it makes you feel better, it was just oral!” I call out. Don’t push me, woman.