DIRTY ALPHAS: The Alpha Bad Boy Collection

by Franca Storm

  “I was teaching him.”

  He scoffs. “He was too concerned about his own pleasure to worry about yours.”

  “He’s a guy. What do you expect?”

  “Better,” he says simply. “You deserve better.”

  His words catch me off guard and I fail to respond with a snappy comeback. Instead I find myself just staring at him, open-mouthed like a goldfish. You deserve better. And the look in his eyes when he’d said it, too. So intense. Heartfelt. Genuine. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Whatever it is that you’re trying to do.” Making me feel.

  “I’m not trying to do anything, Miss Halton. Just calling it like it is.”

  I run my fingers through my hair. Damn, this man is frustrating and he has a knack for pushing all my buttons. I glance at him quickly. “Where’s your stuff?”

  “In my limo. It’s parked around the corner.”

  “Limo?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Yep.”

  “Are you deficient? That thing is gonna draw too much attention to us.”

  “My driver is ex-Special Forces. He knows how to lose a tail.”

  “We’re taking my car, Damon.”

  He steps into me and glowers down at me heatedly. “I’m doing you a favor by going with you in the first place, Miss Halton. I don’t need your protection. I have enough of my own. But I know you need me. As leverage. And given the fact that you spared my life, I figured I owed you. So, we can compromise or I can stay here. Your call.”

  “Fine,” I snap.

  “These are yours,” he says, handing me my two Berettas that his security staff confiscated from me when I walked inside the club. “Saves us having to go back inside.”

  I snatch them from him and check the magazines, not trusting that he didn’t screw with them and leave them empty or something.

  “You don’t trust me?” he asks with amusement.

  “I don’t trust anyone,” I say as I slide them into the holsters at my hips.

  “You mean: men. You don’t trust men.”

  “That’s not true,” I fire back, thinking of Mark.

  “Okay. If you say so,” he chuckles. “This way,” he says, gesturing for me to follow him around the back to his limo.

  5

  ~Damon~

  I look over at her sitting beside me. She’s staring out of the window, pressed tightly against the door, putting as much distance between us as possible. We’ve been enveloped in an awkward silence for the last twenty minutes. She’s fidgeting with her golden hair, twirling it around her finger. After a while she stops and starts to rub her knuckles roughly.

  I smile to myself.

  I know exactly what’s going on with her.

  “I can scratch that itch if you like.”

  Her hands freeze at my words. She makes a little grunting noise, but doesn’t say anything.

  “I guess you’ll just do what you usually do and take care of it yourself.”

  “You don’t know me,” she mutters under her breath.

  You have no idea. “Am I wrong then?”

  Her gaze snaps to mine. “I had it covered until you interrupted me and What’s-His-Name.”

  Huh, she uses the same terminology as I do when I can’t remember someone’s name. “I told you already that he wouldn’t have left you satisfied.”

  “Oh, and you would have?” she blurts out. I see her surprise as soon as the words leave her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Well, too late now, baby.

  “Come closer,” I command.

  She shakes her head.

  “Why not? Don’t tell me that the cold-blooded assassin is afraid now?”

  “I don’t take orders.”

  And I like to give them, baby. But I know she’s not ready for that yet. And so I decide to play it her way. For now. “All right. Then…please come here.”

  I know if the circumstances were different, she’d probably slap me and rush out of the limo. But she’s so desperate, so fucking horny. It’s why I’d interrupted her little fuck session in the alley. It had worked just as I’d thought it would.

  She moves closer. Her gorgeous blue eyes meet mine and I see the falter in what I’ve already come to know as her steely, I’m-not-gonna-take-any-bullshit gaze. She’s nervous.

  I cup her left cheek gently. She flinches immediately and tries to pull away, but I bring my hand to her other cheek and hold her steady in my grasp.

  “I don’t…kiss,” she tells me.

  She doesn’t need to tell me why. I don’t usually do it myself. It’s too intimate. Like me, she doesn’t want the guys she sleeps with to get attached to her. I hear my own warning in my head. But for some reason I can’t resist with her. I need to kiss her. I need to feel her lips on mine. I need to taste her. I want every inch of her. “Don’t worry. I don’t like getting attached either,” I whisper in her ear. “We won’t.” Am I lying to her? I honestly don’t know. And in this moment I don’t give two shits.

  Before she can protest, I brush my lips over hers, feather-light.

  I pull back slightly to gauge her reaction.

  Her eyes are closed. Accepting.

  I weave my fingers in her hair and take her in a hungry, no-holds-barred kiss. She gasps, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back. My tongue prods her lips gently and she opens for me, granting me access. She moans into my mouth, our tongues dueling fiercely, as we taste one another.

  Fuck me. For someone who doesn’t like to kiss, she’s damn good at it. She tastes so sweet.

  And I want more. Much more. I feel my cock straining against my dress pants.

  I grip the belt of her cargo pants and unclasp it with ease. I slip my hand inside and she stiffens immediately.

  She breaks our kiss and looks up at me.

  I see the terror in her eyes.

  Because I’m taking control, not her, I realize.

  “You are still in control,” I tell her. “You’re armed. You can stop me anytime you want,” I jest, gesturing to her Berettas.

  She smiles and lets out a breath, before crushing her mouth back to mine.

  I slide my hand inside her panties and stroke her bare pussy. I grin as I feel a landing strip. “So sexy,” I whisper against her lips. I trail my index finger along her slit. She’s already soaking wet for me. My cock throbs in response. Oh fuck. I find her clit immediately and roll it between my fingers. She bucks against me and lets out a little cry. I do it again and she spreads her legs for me. That’s right, baby.

  Breaking our kiss, I hook my fingers into her panties and pants and pull them both down to her ankles with one rough tug. I drop to my knees and push her legs apart.

  I blow lightly on her pussy and she lets out a tiny gasp. So damn responsive. I lick along the tops of her thighs, moving closer and closer to her pussy very slowly, drawing it out.

  “Damon,” she gasps, as I knew she would.

  “What, baby? What do you want?” I want to hear her say it.

  “I…”

  “Say it and I’ll give it to you, baby,” I encourage her. To emphasize my point, I flick her clit with the tip of my tongue, ever so lightly, driving her crazy.

  “Fuck!” she cries. “Please, Damon. Make me come.”

  “Good girl. Very good.”

  I devour her pussy, giving her everything I’ve got.

  Within moments, she’s writhing against my mouth, throwing her head back and screaming so wildly that I’m glad this part of the limo is soundproof so my driver can’t hear her.

  Of all the women I’ve been with, I’ve never heard someone as grateful as her for being eaten out. What have the guys she’s been with before been doing then? Clearly fuck all if this is how she’s responding now—like a virgin. She’s so responsive. I love it. I coat my index finger in her juices and spread her ass cheeks apart. As my tongue laps at her pussy, I push my finger gently into her asshole. She moans loudly. Our gazes
lock and my eyes flash with mischief as I push in further until I’m knuckle deep. Her wide eyes gaze down at me in wonder.

  “Yes,” she chokes out. “Yes, Damon! Yes!”

  I start to pump my finger in and out of her tight ass. Christ, I’d love to shove my cock in there. But not now. Not yet.

  “I’m gonna come!” she tells me in a breathless whisper.

  I exert painful pressure on her clit and she comes apart instantly, cursing and bucking against me like a wild animal. Fuck, she’s amazing. Her hands fist in my hair, trying to push me away, but I hold fast, still eating her. And then she comes again. And again. I lap at her juices, savoring her taste on my tongue, my lips.

  “Mmm…incredible,” I breathe as I pull back.

  I reach for her panties and cargo pants and slide them back up her legs. She arches her back to help me and then she shudders as they rub against her over sensitized pussy. We both laugh.

  I return to my seat and grin at her victoriously, extremely pleased with myself and having no qualms about showing it. I’m not a modest man. Never have been. What’s the point in all that?

  “You’ve never had multiple orgasms before, have you?”

  “What?” she responds, clearly offended. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because you tried to push me away after you came the first time.”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “So what?”

  “Nothing. Just interesting, that’s all,” I say casually. More like a fucking revelation.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just that being dominated—even just slightly—obviously gets you off.”

  She gives me a look, like I just told her the sky is red, or something. “Look, I appreciate you…helping me out. But let’s not make more of this than it really is, okay?”

  Before I can respond, she climbs onto my lap and reaches for my belt.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, gripping her hand before she can undo my pants.

  “Returning the favor.”

  “Returning the favor would be you sucking my cock.”

  She tenses immediately at the suggestion. “I…I don’t do that.”

  “What? You don’t suck cock?” I ask, more than a little surprised.

  She shakes her head dismissively. “No. Just move your hand and I’ll ride you. Same result.”

  I grip her hands tightly. “Have you ever given a blowjob?”

  “What does it matter?” she snaps, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Have you?”

  “No, okay? I…can’t.”

  Can’t. Interesting word choice.

  “Off,” I tell her.

  “What?”

  I grip her hips and lift her off me myself. “The first time we do that, I want to fuck you.”

  She scoffs. “Never going to happen, Damon. I might as well burst your bubble now.”

  I smirk at her. “We’ll see, Miss Halton.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  I lean into her and tell her, “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be begging for my cock. Everywhere, baby. Your mouth, your tight pussy, your sweet ass. You won’t be able to help yourself.”

  Her gaze hardens, her jaw tenses and her fists clench. She’s shutting down, shutting me out. “We just met. You ate me out and I offered to fuck you for your troubles. You refused. So we’re even. Done. Let’s keep it professional going forward, okay?”

  “Alana, I’m not here to hurt you.”

  Her gaze snaps to mine at the sound of me using her first name.

  “I’m not him.”

  “What? Him?” she asks, warily.

  “Andrew.”

  She snaps and before I can stop her, she pounces on me, pinning me down on the seat, her hands wrapped around my throat. “I’m a killer! And I’m good at it. Say that name again and I’ll forget about our deal. I will end you! We’re not friends, okay? I don’t know why you’re trying to make something happen here. You fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em, just like me. No attachments. Ever. So stop messing with me! Are we clear now, asshole?”

  I nod my head and she releases me with a low threatening growl. As I sit up she presses herself back tightly against the car door and looks out of the window. The girl I was kissing just moments before is gone. The cold-hearted killer has taken her place once again.

  I know I should listen to her and back off like she wants. But now that I’ve seen that other side of her I need to see it again. I can’t just walk away.

  Fuck, I’ve just been hooked. I actually want her for more than just a quick fuck.

  She’s under my skin.

  She’s affected me like no one ever has before.

  Oh shit, I’m in trouble.

  6

  ~Damon~

  I wake up finally feeling refreshed. It’s been a while since I’ve slept so well. It’s become the norm for me to wake up screaming from the nightmares that usually plague me. An unpleasant symptom of the PTSD that I’ve been dealing with for the last decade.

  Aside from not wanting to get attached, that’s the other reason that I make women leave as soon as we’re done fucking. I don’t want them to witness me waking up in a cold sweat and screaming like a goddamn child.

  But it hadn’t happened that way last night. Alana and I had shared the same bed. Fully clothed, mind you, despite my subtle suggestions.

  When we’d arrived at her safe house—one of many, she’d informed me—I’d quickly discovered that there was very little to it. A one-bedroom log cabin; its entire square footage smaller than the bedroom of my penthouse back in the city. All the furniture is red wood and rickety, including the couch in the living room that I’d offered to take. Bumpy as hell as well. Despite how pissed she still was at me for bringing up the Andrew thing, she’d offered to let me share the bed with her. It was only a queen-size and I’m a big guy, so I’d found myself brushing against her several times during the night, much to the frustration of my cock. Damn, it had been difficult to fall asleep with a raging hard-on. Not to mention, she’d forced me to wear a t-shirt and my boxers to bed. I usually sleep naked, so having the added clothing was uncomfortable to say the least. But once I’d managed to pass out, I was out like a light for the rest of the night.

  I still can’t get over the fact that I hadn’t been plagued by nightmares last night.

  Shit, it was her. Sleeping next to her did something to me. Calmed me, I guess. Unbelievable.

  I roll over to her side of the bed, but she’s not there, just her imprint in the mattress of where she had been. I stretch out my arms and crack my neck. Then I climb out of bed.

  Everything is so small, so compact in the little house that I just narrowly avoid stubbing my toe on the chest of drawers adjacent to the bed; the place where I unpacked my clothes last night. I need a coffee and a smoke ASAP.

  As I reach for the brass doorknob, I hear voices coming from the living room outside. Alana’s voice and…a male voice. I press my ear to the door and listen.

  “I warned you about defying, Cartwright, Alana!”

  “No one controls ME, Mark! Not even that fucker. I don’t care who he is!”

  “Well you’d better start caring. You’re in his crosshairs now. He’s coming for you.”

  “Then let him come!”

  “Don’t be stupid. Just kill Brookes and all this goes away. Cartwright will back down. That’s how hell-bent he is on getting rid of this guy. He must have done something God awful to him for Cartwright to be this determined to kill him. That’s why he wanted you to take the hit, because everyone knows you’re the best, Al.”

  “I can’t kill Damon.”

  “Damon? First name basis, huh? You fucked him, didn’t you?”

  “No. You know I don’t fuck guys like him.”

  “Tried to boss you around, did he?”

  “Shut it! God, the way you’re harping on it, I’d think you were jealous, if I didn’t know better.”

  “Maybe I am.”

 
; “What?”

  That’s my cue. I push open the door and walk coolly into the living room, pretending that I haven’t just heard what I have.

  “Morning,” I say politely to Alana. I nod at her friend. “Hey.”

  He stands up and holds out his hand. We shake firmly and he says, “Nice to meet you, man. I’m Mark. Mark Adams. Alana’s best friend. Well…” he says, winking at Alana, “…her only friend. Right, Al?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”

  “Are you in the same line of work?” I ask him.

  “Nah. I’m ex-Special Forces. I work private security now. I help Alana out every now and then with intel—background checks and stuff.”

  That catches my attention.

  “There’s coffee already brewed in the pot. Smokes are on the counter. Feel free to light up in here,” Alana tells me. How does she know I smoke? She must have smelled it on me.

  “Thanks,” I say, crossing to the tiny kitchenette that shares some of the living room space. “So, did she get you to run a background check on me?” I ask as casually as possible.

  Mark chuckles. “Yeah. She’s paranoid about everything and everyone.”

  “I’m careful,” Alana cuts in.

  “Couldn’t find much on you. I only managed to go back about a decade. Twenty-five years unaccounted for,” Mark says.

  “Uneventful years. That’s why,” I say, doing my best to act aloof. Shit. She had a guy with military contacts look into me? Close call there.

  I pour the coffee, snatch up the smokes and lighter and return to the living room. I take a seat beside Alana on the couch. Mark tenses immediately as he watches us from the armchair he’s slumped in.

  I smile inwardly.

  He knows what I’m doing.

  Staking a claim on what will be mine soon enough.

  “So, a boring guy until you hit it big in the city with the entertainment circuit?” he queries.

  “Yep,” I say as I fire up a smoke and take a long drag.

  “It must be nice having women falling over themselves to fuck you,” he says. His tone is anything but friendly. Downright antagonistic and aggressive actually. I take a hard drag of my smoke, deciding to let it go for Alana’s benefit.