Alphas of Seduction

by Victoria Blue

  I stood naked in my room, looking down at the clothing I’d chosen to wear, and felt incredibly daring. I had goosebumps all over my skin and felt the first flutters of butterflies in my stomach. A part of me couldn’t believe I was actually going to go through with this. I was being so utterly brazen and one-minded about my intentions. But then again, as I’ve said, I’ve always been that person—once I decide on a course of action, I never waver.

  Everything was eerily sharp in my mind, my senses seemed overly heightened somehow so that I was aware of everything as I picked up the cotton halter top. It smelled fresh and clean, the fabric felt soft yet crisp between my fingers as I slid it over my head and I did up the buttons. The fit cupped my bare breasts lifting and flaunting the deep cleavage. My nipples stiffened into rock hard berry nubs, and in the standing cheval mirror, I could clearly see the shadows and points visible through the fabric. I could feel the blood filling the tissues of my pussy, making the lips swell in anticipation and my clit stand out. I slid my hand down over my flat belly, through the neatly trimmed nest of soft curls above the naked lips and gently stroked the pouting flesh. I moaned softly, then dipped my fingers lower, and was surprised to feel how wet I was already. Parting my thighs, I pushed a finger through the entrance a little, to the heated warmth within and tried to imagine what it would feel like to stretch around living hard flesh. A trickle of warmth enveloped my digit, and curious, I brought it to my mouth to taste. The slippery sweet offering glided over my tongue, with a tangy, pungent flavor that tasted incredible. I wondered if men really found a woman’s body and her juices sexy.

  It was time to find out.

  With purpose now, I finished dressing, pulling on my favorite tightest and tatty cut-off jeans, the crotch barely four hard seams that met in the middle and rubbed mercilessly against my bare clit when I walked. Sans underwear of course, the shorts left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Then sitting on the side of the bed, I picked up my thigh high black leather boots and slid them on. They were one of my first purchases when I bought the bike, but until now I’d never even worn them. High heeled and glossy, they fit like a second skin and made my long legs look even longer. I stood staring at myself in the mirror and was amazed at how deliciously dirty I felt. How daring. How sexy and naughty. I’d often worn the shorts over my bikini pants, but I had never dressed like this before—with the intent of getting laid.

  I found a red and white check scarf in Lulu’s dresser and used it as a bandana to keep the hair off my face, and quickly tied it in a knot over the draping triangle at the base of my neck. Pursing my lips in the mirror, I applied some of Shelby’s bright red lipstick, before pulling on my soft black leather gloves.

  I was as ready as I’d ever be.

  The biggest surprise was that I wasn’t more nervous. I probably should have been, but frankly, by that stage I just wanted it over and done with. There were friends of course who would have been only too happy to ‘help me out’ but I didn’t want anyone local having bragging rights. This was about me, not them.

  I’d decide.

  A flick of the switch and my big red Indian chieftain classic started up with a throaty roar. God, I love my bike. Truly, there is nothing that compares to the thrill of riding such a precision beast or feeling all that power between your thighs.

  Taking the back roads, I headed out of town, terrified someone might recognize me or the bike, but I didn’t see anyone I knew, and once it got fully dark, it no longer mattered.

  It was so hot, even the breeze that rushed by me was humid. I could feel the sweat gathering between my breasts and some of my hair coming loose and flicking me in the eyes. That heightened awareness again made the drive even more surreal, though I’ve no notion why. Everything just seems more… The trees and the grass are saturate the air around me, the earth smells loamy and even the flowers, especially the night jasmine and ginger are heavy and thick with perfume. I watch as the moon rises fat and pale against the fading light until stars blink into existence against the blackness. Tiny lights aglow, a breathtaking back canvas as I speed through the night.

  Neither of my sisters’ ride, and they both think it’s weird that I do. It’s my quirk, my one uniqueness that separates me from them. They both have their own quirks that are peculiar to them too, but mine has always been a love of motorcycles. Buying my Indian was the best thing I ever did.

  I find a bar, but when I go in, it’s like a convention of the local Moose or Elks Club. Nothing but old guys, in faded jeans and baseballs caps emblazoned with past war insignias. Those that aren’t staring in stunned surprise, smile in appreciation of my outfit. One even gives a long, low wolf whistle that made me giggle. But in the end, I give them a cheery wave, as I turn tail and leave.

  The second bar looks a little more hopeful, at least from the outside. There are several cars, and even a Harley or two in the parking lot. Pulling in, I kill the engine next to an old vintage bike. Then I kind of chicken out for a bit and actually contemplate going home and forgetting the whole thing. I just sit there like a goose, trying to summon back the courage that had suddenly deserted me, to get off the bike, go inside and finish this.

  Finally, reminding myself I’m not a quitter, I grab my wallet from the side saddle, lock the bike with a click of the fob and head for the entrance.

  It doesn’t look so bad…at least that’s what I tell myself as I push through the door and into the gloomy interior. Donna Summer’s MacArthur’s Park is belting out on the jukebox, a hit from my mom’s glory days. As I take another step, it seems as if every head in the place turns to watch me. I feel like a bug under a microscope. Self-conscious but determined, I throw back my shoulders, lift my chin, and walk into that dive as if I own the place

  Only the army guy, or maybe he was navy or a marine going by the short back and sides, doesn’t turn to watch. He’s big, solid, wearing a black wife-beater, blue jeans and boots. It tells me he rides one of the Harley’s outside. Without hesitation I plonk down in the empty seat beside him and wait for the barmaid to come over. Then I look up and see him watching me in the mirror.

  He looks intense. Dark brooding eyes that seem to bore right into me, high cheekbones, a squarish jaw with a deep cleft that reminds me of Michael Douglas. His arms look as thick as my thighs and through the tight tank he wears, it’s obvious his nipples are pierced.

  He looks dangerous, incredibly sexual—I swear the man reeks of sex—though all he’s doing is sitting there nursing a beer bottle in one big fist.

  Then a tired looking barmaid finally stops in front of me, asks for proof of age, before grudgingly taking my order and filling it. It’s just a nip of whiskey, for Dutch courage and all that, and gratefully I knock it back in one gulp. I’m smug for about the two seconds it takes for the alcohol to hit the back of my throat and empty belly. Tears sting my eyes and I start to cough.

  “That drink have bones in it little girl?” I turn to soldier boy beside me and fall head first into brilliant eyes that glitter a slate grey into mine. Wow! “It’ll pass, just breathe.”

  The heat of indignation spills into my cheeks and I want desperately to say something, anything remotely witty. Instead I sputter and cough some more.

  The barmaid gives me a hard stare and starts to come over. Great, just what I need. But she stops when soldier boy thumps me on the back between my shoulder blades.

  “She’s fine.”

  “Huge bones,” I manage.

  “No shit. Next time try sipping it.”

  Well damn, he’s right of course and I have no answer to that.

  It’s almost as if he can read my mind, “Hey, I didn’t mean anything doll, maybe a better quality of whiskey next time…never mind. You okay?”

  I try a smile, “Fine thanks.”

  He gives me a grin back and looks down. “Nice boots…”

  “Umm…thanks.” I could have sworn he said ‘nice boobs’ then realize how ridiculous that is and I begin to laugh.

 
He grins, “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. I’m…Lulu.” Don’t ask. I have no idea why I give the man my sister’s nickname, other than not wanting him to know mine should we end up in bed together.

  “Brian. Nice to meet you.”

  “Do you come here a lot?” Now my cheeks burn like wildfire. I could smack myself. Only dorks ask stupid things like that in bars. He laughs again, but this time I’m laughing with him.

  There’s something about Brian that I find instantly attractive. Maybe the sex thing, because he really does radiate off of him in spades. Or maybe it’s more that he has a quiet strength about him, and an intensity that he practically hums with.

  He like an island in a sea of people, yet somehow that only attracts me to him more. He screams bad boy, all right. You’d have to be blind, deaf or dumb not to pick it up. But I don’t feel the need to shy away. For some strange reason, I feel…safe with him. He comes across as a protector, even deadly perhaps, but not a threat—at least not to me.

  I stare at the hand that lays on the bar closest to mine, it’s covered in tattoos, and looks strong enough to crush rocks. I can feel his eyes on me in the mirror again, and I enjoy knowing that he’s checking me out. When I glance up and into his face, the look he gives me is blistering hot, blatantly sexual and makes me instantly wet.

  He’s the one.

  I can’t explain it, really. Call it serendipity or just hormones. It doesn’t really matter. My gut tells me fate has intervened to put us in this place and at this time, on this night, for one reason only…to meet one another.

  I have no idea where it might go of course, if anywhere other than bed. That appears to be a given, especially when I slide my hand on the bar, closer to gently graze against his. A shot of electricity jumps between us, the jolt making us both start and stare at the other.

  Then it’s like we were all alone, right there at that bar, in that room, in that one moment of time as we begin to talk and laugh together, as though we’ve known one another forever. We’re interrupted only once. A grumpy waitress dumps a burger and fries down in front of him. When Brian doesn’t seem to notice, she turns on her heel and disappears. I’ve no idea what her problem is, but it doesn’t matter, he shares his dinner with me, and then we simply get up and walk out of the bar hand-in-hand and into the night.

  Chapter 3

  Brian

  By the time we get up and head for the door together, I’m already thinking about the next time I see her. What in the hell is up with that? We haven’t even started getting busy yet and already I’m looking forward to round number two. My dick is a rock, and I feel like a damn pup almost tripping over my own feet.

  I’ll never forget the instant boner I got when she walked in this shitty bar. Dressed for sin in those thigh hugging boots and tiny, mouth-watering shorts molding to every curve of her luscious ass and plump pussy. It only got better with the slice of cleavage spilling out of her halter-top, and all that peaches and cream sun kissed skin. And when she pulled the red bandanna from her head, and gave a quick shake, sending piles of thick, strawberry blonde hair spilling in soft curls around her shoulders, I wanted to reach out and grab a handful. Then shove my nose in it, and breathe in her scent. Yeah, I know how it sounds…fucking ridiculous, but she was like a breath of fresh air.

  I couldn’t help but stare at her, all of her, but especially her face. An almost perfect oval but not quite, high cheekbones, a pert nose with a scattering of freckles across the bridge, and plump full lips painted a brazen fuck-me red. She was every man’s wet dream. Then she hit me again with the full force of those striking, almost violet-colored eyes. I damn near swallowed my tongue. Suddenly, this dingy, depressing bar in the middle of who-gives-a-fucksville was the best place in the world to be, because of her.

  Every cunt-hungry guy in the place had turned when she stepped through the door. Yet, somehow, I ended up being the lucky bastard she’s leaving with.

  “Where are we going?” she asks timidly, as we walk out to the lot. I bring her hand to my lips grazing the knuckles with a soft kiss. I’m shocked to feel my self-restraint slipping a notch or two, that’s a new sensation for me, I thrive on control.

  As we head to my bike, I see one of the new Indians parked beside it. Nice. “Where would you like to go Lulu?” Fucking love that name. Old-fashioned, sexy as and it fits her perfectly. I’m captivated by the way it effortlessly rolls off my tongue. It’s my new favorite.

  She’s red-faced again and I’m wondering if she is reconsidering or is just too embarrassed to tell me what she wants.

  This is so not how I usually operate. I’m the one who always leads. A goddamn rock, but there is something about this woman does it for me on every single level. I’m on the edge of desperate for Lulu and find myself surreptitiously considering every surface we pass from the exit of the bar to where we now stand facing the bikes. Then she turns to me and replies, almost casual like.

  “Somewhere with a bed and a light so I can watch you make love to me.”

  My brain stutters, and I think I came in my jeans a little, I swallow, thankfully my mouth still works,

  “We can do that. That’s my bike. Do you want to ride with me, or do you have a car parked somewhere?”

  Now all I can think about is her on her back, hair spread out in a strawberry puddle, those hot boots of hers the only clothing she wears wrapped around her sexy legs, that are open wide just for me. I’m on my knees, between them, my thick cock disappearing inside her soft, slick bare pussy, only to reappear again as she leans up on one elbow to watch and moan.

  Then she says, “The Indian is mine. I can follow you.”

  She rides too? Now it’s my turn to grin. This just keeps getting better and better. I remember passing a motel that looked nice enough on the way into town, I’ll take her there. I’m desperate to see her ride now, and not just me, but that big, badass bike of hers too. But first…I pull on her hand lightly, tugging her back and into my arms, “Come here Lulu, I need a taste of that luscious mouth before we go a step further.”

  “Yes please…”

  Chapter 4

  Georgia

  Why on earth did I ever give him my sister’s name? Stupid, stupid, stupid. I want to hear him saying my name in his voice, raspy and thick with arousal. I’m dying to ask him his full name, not that it matters I suppose, besides he could be lying about that too. It’s probably better this way isn’t it? After all, this is just a one-night stand. I’ll probably never see him again. Just because I’ve never had one before, doesn’t mean I don’t know what one is: I read, I watch TV.

  And the look on his face when I told him the Chieftain is mine. Priceless. Then finally his mouth is on mine, hot, hungry, devastating and devouring my last shreds of common sense.

  It’s in that moment I realize two things; first, I have never, ever been kissed in the way this man is kissing me. And second; is that right now, I am so on fire for him, that I’d let him shove me against a wall, or a car, slip the crotch of my now soaked cutoffs to the side and shove his dick inside me right there in the parking lot. It was that good.

  His lips, soft and insistent at first, he had me trembling with need and moaning into his mouth, but then the kiss turned incendiary as every part of my body melted and throbbed with need against him. I couldn’t begin to explain the things he was doing to me, or the lewd imaginings running through my brain as he softly traced my sealed lips with his tongue. He began nipping at them gently. And when I opened on a gasp, he slid that wicked thick tongue of his deep into my mouth.

  Never have I felt anything so blatantly sexual before in all my life. My fingers move restlessly over the thick muscles of his arms and chest and then, it’s all I can do to simply hold on for dear life. With every deliberate stroke between my parted lips, it feels like a precursor to his cock sliding in and out of my drenched pussy. Every hard swipe, even the pressure of our mouths sliding across one another’s, turns me on in ways I never even knew I wa
s capable of. He buries his hand roughly in my hair. Every tug and pull sends electric shocks of pleasure arcing through my body. He is utterly, completely possessing me without removing a stitch of my clothing. Need burns like wildfire through me, my belly aches as my womb contracts hard, and my pussy clenches in desperate yearning. It’s the most devastatingly erotic kiss of my life.

  Finally, we pull apart both shaking and panting, needing to get on the bikes and get somewhere we can be naked and horizontal.

  Forget the shy whiny part of me that feared everything, because the horny hungry part is cheer-leader-squad ecstatic, that soon I’ll know what my sisters already do. And if this is what it feels like with every man, then it’s little wonder my sisters are such experts.

  All I know is that only Brian can put out the fire. I know I should probably tell him about my little problem, but then I figure he’ll find out soon enough and by then, hopefully, it will be too late to stop.

  Lost in a lustful haze, we were at the hotel in minutes. Standing beside my bike, I watch as he races in to get a room. In a flash, he reappears and takes my hand.

  “You okay? Come on, we’re just around the corner.”

  It’s like I’m dumbstruck or something, all I can do is smile. I lock my bike, I have my backpack, which he takes and before I can entertain even a moment’s doubt, Brian is pulling me back into his arms again. Then he backs me against the side of the building and captures my lips with his, and I’m lost. Lost in sensations so overwhelming and as marvelous as they are disturbing. I am suddenly conscious of every granite hard inch of body pressing against mine. With shocking awareness, I feel every inch of the thick stovepipe length of his cock scraping insistently against my belly, and all I can wonder—besides how wonderful his body feels—is how will he ever manage to get that all inside me? Maybe I’ll feel it tapping the back of my throat with every thrust.