Alphas & Fairytales: A New Year's Eve Anthology

by Molly McLain

  Shit. I think they’re pumping licentiousness directly through the air vents tonight. And I’ve been infected but good. So has Shaw. And Noah.

  I cannot want Noah Wilder to touch me with reverence and kiss me with purpose. It’s wrong and kinky…and maybe at this very moment oh so tempting, but no. Just…no. Right?

  Right. God, why am I even questioning this? But another glance at Shaw catches him and Noah in some sort of weird silent communication and I can’t help but wonder what the fuck is going on and why Shaw is suddenly allowing all this attention from Noah when he made it clear he would never share me. I want to ask, but I’m almost afraid of the answer.

  Mostly, though, I’m afraid of my reaction to his answer.

  Will I be disappointed if he tells me I’m making this all up or will I be relieved? Or…will I let these two men deliver me straight into their nest of perversion, a willing participant.

  My stomach twists.

  And I don’t like the reason why.

  Chapter 3

  “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” I ask Noah when we’re swaying to a ballad by the fabulous rock band, Falling Down. The heavily tattooed lead singer is not only talented he’s a gift from the bad-boy Gods themselves. It’s hard to tear your eyes away from his chiseled body and dimpled face.

  But I do, glancing at Shaw every few seconds. He’s talking to a man he introduced me to earlier. Scott Dixon, chief counsel for Hunter Enterprises. Scott is handsome, nice and extremely intelligent and while Shaw seems to be entrenched in his conversation, I know he’s not. He’s watching Noah and I with keen interest, but not a trace of jealousy. In fact, he insisted I take another spin on the dance floor because he knew I was getting bored with all the business talk.

  Noah dips his head down, a slow smile creeping onto his handsome face. I remember my forgotten question when he teases, “Offering to play the part, are you?” And that’s all he’s doing, teasing. I’m with Shaw. I love Shaw, and while tonight might be full of inappropriate flirting and edgy desires, that’s all it is. Tomorrow it will pass then we’ll all be back to normal.

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” The rim of his mouth tips up. It’s cocky and meant to be charming and disarming. I believe that approach works on most women without them even knowing they’ve been enchanted by the original snake charmer himself. Not me, though. I had his number from the moment I met him.

  I simply raise two brows and turn my mouth into a waiting smile.

  His grin falls just a bit. “You may have Shaw’s dick spelled with that magic box of yours, dollface, but that doesn’t mean I want mine on lockdown, too.”

  “I think you’re lying,” I tell him plainly, letting him lead me into a small dip.

  “But I’m not,” he shoots back when he has me snug against him again. It’s sure and sound, leaving no room for debate. And I wonder if it’s because…

  “Do you…”

  “Do I what,” he prods when I let my thought die.

  I almost let it go, but decide not to. Taking a deep breath, I ask the question I desperately want the answer to. One I’ve been afraid to ask Shaw. “Do you enjoy what you and Shaw…do?”

  “Do?” Those full lips of his twitch. He’s fighting a smile. Bastard.

  “You know...”

  His eyes dance. “’Fraid I don’t, sweet thing. Elaborate.”

  “Never mind,” I say, looking away, no intention of asking now.

  Only he’s not going to let it go that easy. He makes sure there’s not a speck of light between us when he leans his lips against my ear. “You mean do I enjoy when we both overwhelm a woman with so much pleasure her mind blanks and her muscles liquefy?”

  Oh fuck. Yes…that’s exactly what I mean.

  My mouth is Sahara dry. Air is hard to take in, let alone use to push words out, so I just nod. Actually, it’s barely even a nod. It’s more a tic of my neck muscles.

  “Fuck yes, I do. There’s no other high like it.”

  Unadulterated temptation. That’s my only thought as I replay his hoarsely spoken words. They’re pure genius. Bewitching seduction. It’s easy to see how so many women have fallen victim to them.

  “Oh,” I manage. My body is vibrating everywhere. I hate it and fall into it at the same time.

  “I have a feeling you’d like it, Willow. We’re very fucking good at it.”

  Electricity pulses between my legs in wicked synch to his breaths in my ear. I want to live like I’ve never lived before and I don’t understand it. It makes no sense. This is not me. I know deep in my soul I don’t want this. Then why are you not stopping it?

  “What’s happening?” I ask quietly, not really expecting an answer.

  “Whatever you want to happen. Nothing more.”

  Noah nuzzles my cheek, his warm lips skimming ever so lightly before putting a more appropriate amount of space between us. My head feels fuzzy, my thoughts hazy. Wrong. Twisted. Exciting. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings, but I finally do.

  “I have to use the ladies’,” I say, pushing my way out of his arms.

  I take off across the room as if it’s on fire, a big part of me wishing I were melding as one with the couch at this very moment so I didn’t have to face the fact that tonight is going to turn out very different than I originally planned.

  Ten minutes later, I look over at the men’s room longingly, still waiting in line for mine. I have no idea what takes women so long to pee. Lift your dress, shove down your panties, squat, pee and wipe. It should take fifteen seconds, tops. I have half a mind to just waltz across the hall and take care of business, but I have a feeling Noah would put a stop to it before I got through the open doorway. He was chasing me like a bloodhound and has stood guard against the opposite wall, watchful eyes gauging me the entire time.

  Deciding it’s best to stay put, I do something else to pass the time so I can take my mind from the minutes ticking off until this party is over. I’ve never been so anxious for or dreaded midnight as much as I have tonight.

  “Having a good time?” I ask the woman in front of me. We shuffle ahead a few inches. She’s the pretty, petite redhead with the striking green eyes I talked with an hour or so ago when Shaw and Noah were chatting it up with another business colleague they knew named Brick. Addy was her name if I remember right. I liked her instantly.

  She smiles, but it’s thin and sort of sad. I got the distinct impression earlier there was tension between her and Brick. He couldn’t keep his attention focused on the conversation with the guys because every five seconds his eyes found her. Almost as if he thought she would disappear on him if he looked away too long.

  “Looking up. You?”

  “It’s kind of overwhelming.”

  Her laugh is lyrical and soothing. “First time to one of these events?”

  “First time to Vegas,” I admit.

  “Really?”

  Yes, I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman who is a Sin City virgin. So what. We inch ahead, the door to the bathroom finally within arm’s reach. “Yeah. Really.” I shrug.

  “Nothing wrong with that. Vegas isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Where are you from?”

  “Seattle, born and raised. You?”

  “Dallas.”

  Another place I haven’t been. I don’t get around much. “And how long have you been in Vegas?”

  Her eyes cut quickly to the floor and a tinge of pink stains her cheeks. “Just since last night.” I get the feeling there’s a story there but it’s none of my business so I’m not going to inquire. Small talk is much safer. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” she asks.

  Three more people to go. My gaze follows hers over to Noah and I’m relieved to see that Shaw has now taken up space next to him. He flashes me a soothing smile that I return and the anxiousness inside me eases away.

  “Sure. Ask away.”

  She pauses. Shakes her head. Scoots ahead another foot forward. “No. It’s none of my business.�
��

  You know what they say about curiosity, right? “No, really. It’s okay,” I prod.

  “I was curious, is all.”

  “About what?”

  She throws a quick glance over my shoulder then lowers her voice to a whisper. “About what it’s like to be with two men at once.”

  Holy. Shit. She did not just say that. Nerves start firing off like mini flares inside me. A bead of sweat breaks out above my upper lip.

  Shuffle. Shuffle. We’re almost there.

  “Ummm…I wouldn’t know.” I reach up to wipe the telltale dampness away, hoping I don’t smear my lipstick in the process.

  “Oh.” Her eyes narrow and her nose wrinkles up, clearly confused. They dart over to the other side of the hall, then back. “I just thought…”

  “You thought what?” Now I lower my voice to a whisper. “That we’re all together or something?”

  Her lips shoot up briefly then flatten back out. She studies me. I can tell she’s deciding what to say next. “Well. Yeah. I mean…”—her attention drops to my left hand, then back—“the way the blond looks at you and the way your fiancé lets him, I just thought…”

  I take a couple of deep breaths trying to calm the stirring her words produce in my belly. It feels like rock salt churning.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  That’s a bald-faced lie. Noah and Shaw haven’t left my side all night. The yearning on both of their faces is getting more and more barefaced and I’m strangely getting more and more comfortable with it. A nervous-excited, even. I keep looking to Shaw when Noah brushes against me or when he leans in to whisper something in my ear but all I get back from him is unabashed desire that heats every fucking part of me.

  And the weirdest part is we are all acting strange tonight, like we’ve stepped two feet outside of reality. Shaw would generally as soon kill any man than ever let him leer over my body the way he’s let Noah do for the last two hours. Noah would never be as forward and deliberate about wanting me. He’s a big flirt, yes, but that’s all he’s ever been. An innocent flirt.

  And me? Ever since I found out they made a sport out of sharing women, I’ve never once entertained the idea of a threesome with the two of them. I’ve never wanted it. Except tonight it’s all I can think of.

  So yes, something about being here feels a lot like we’ve fallen into a hedonistic time warp. We all know where the door that leads back to righteousness is—hell, we’re staring at the damn thing—we’re just choosing not to go back through it. At least not yet.

  “Noah is just a friend,” I add in earnest, hoping I sound convincing. A hot, sexy beast of a friend, but still…just a friend.

  Her lips purse and she nods slightly. I can tell she doesn’t believe me. She’s next in line and suddenly I wish we had a few more minutes. I really want to hear what else she has to say.

  Maybe I could talk to her about it? Get some advice? Girl to girl?

  No. I couldn’t divulge these deviant thoughts to my best friend let alone a total stranger.

  “Never mind. I must have been seeing things.” Her attempt at convincing falls flat.

  The click of a latch being pulled back reaches my ears and I know we have just seconds left. She starts toward the now empty stall when she turns and closes the short distance between us. “But in case I wasn’t seeing things, it seems as an outside observer that your fiancé wouldn’t do anything to hurt you so if you get the chance to live out every woman’s fantasy with two hot men who clearly care for you, I hope you enjoy the fuck out of it. Pun intended.” Then she winks and spins on her silver spike, disappearing behind a metal stall door.

  I’m breathless. So damn breathless.

  Because, although it’s wrong, I’ve been thinking the same damn thing.

  Chapter 4

  “One more,” he insists.

  “No. I need a break. I’m all hot and sweaty.”

  “Hmm.” His tongue flattens against the base of my neck and he leisurely licks his way up to my ear, whispering hoarsely, “I love the taste of hot and sweaty on you, Willow.”

  “I mean it, Shaw,” I pant, working to even out my ragged breaths. I put my hands to his chest and push. “I need a few minutes to cool off before we go again.”

  Cupping my face with one hand, he plants a blistering kiss on my lips. It curls my toes. “You sure you can’t handle one more right this very second? Just one?” His murmured double entendre washes me in a fresh sea of desire.

  We’ve spent the past hour dancing our asses off. My feet are cussing me out, my legs feel like slush, and I’d kill an army for a glass of water right now. As tempting as his offer is, especially with one of my favorite songs playing, my mouth actually hurts with the need for moisture.

  “Positive. I’ll make it up to you.”

  He leans back and pins me with a ferocious stare. “Anything I want?”

  And, holy shit, the butterflies I’ve managed to keep at bay since my little talk in the bathroom with Addy are unleashed once again. They flutter wildly through my veins, the insinuation of that seemingly innocuous question riding heavy on their fragile wings.

  “Wh—What do you want?” I stutter.

  His eyes hood and darken to a stormy grey. Taking a step into me, he presses our sweaty bodies together, bony knees to heaving chests. Heat from his body oozes into me every place we touch. My gown sticks to my damp thighs and the fine hairs on his forearms prick into the flesh of my bared collarbone. Each a tiny, separate sting reminding me this is really happening.

  He stares at me. Sees through my play-dumb façade. Hears the subtle hitch in my throat. Senses the increased cadence in the pulse in my neck. I tune out everyone else around us because this is it.

  This. Is. It.

  My breaths, which were starting to calm, race out of control when his already baritone voice drops a full chord and he admits, “Something I shouldn’t.”

  It’s magnetic and enticing.

  An invitation.

  An ask without the asking.

  Yeah. This is it.

  Oh fuck.

  I try to swallow before I speak. I try not once, not twice, but three times. It still comes out croaked and far too breathless. Far too much like yes. “Don’t you want to watch the fireworks?” It’s just shy of eleven thirty. I couldn’t care less about fireworks.

  Neither could he because God, his eyes. They’re so fucking dark. Intense. Narrowed and wild. “I’d rather make them.”

  “Oh,” I mouth, my heart pushing a fresh surge of lust-spiked adrenaline through my bloodstream. I’m dizzy. So damn dizzy.

  Saying nothing else he runs a palm down my damp arm, chills racing along the line he just drew. He takes my hand in his. Lacing our fingers together he leads me from the dance floor, grabs his tux jacket draped over the back of a chair and heads straight to the bar, which miraculously has no line at the moment.

  “I don’t need any more to drink,” I tell him. I’m tipsy but not drunk, and tomorrow I already know I won’t be able to blame inhibition-melting alcohol on the choice I’m getting ready to make.

  “No, you don’t. Two waters,” he directs the bartender.

  “Oh. Thanks.” I’m breathy.

  “I know what you need, Willow.” He’s angled his body toward mine while we wait. I’m nervous. “This is all about you.”

  My forehead scrunches. We’re not talking about water now.

  “Is it?” I wing back, wanting desperately to understand why he’s getting ready to let his best friend kiss me, bring me to orgasm while he watches. And, holy shit, why I’m going to allow it.

  He licks his lips, his eyes dropping to mine where I’ve done the same. Damn I need that water in the worst way. I’m wet everywhere else, including the dark place pulsating between my thighs, but my mouth is bone freaking dry.

  “Yes,” he says, his eyes locking with mine again.

  Yes. Just yes.

  But I don’t believe him. I think this is about hi
m, not me. He gets off on this. The softness of a woman’s body being driven up by the two of them. He hasn’t said as much, but I know. I know. “What do you get out of this?”

  His eyes lighten to devilish, the corners of his mouth curling to match. I hear the sound of glass hitting a wood surface and know our waters have been delivered but neither of us looks away from the other. Neither of us makes a move to get them.

  “You really don’t need me to answer that, do you?”

  “Shaw…” I start, digging deep for that last bit of defense I know has to be there but am grappling hard for. It seems just out of reach. “I don’t want anything to change between us.”

  “It won’t.” He answers swift and sure.

  But see, this is my biggest fear, subconsciously maybe. When Noah is invited into our bed, what happens next? I mean, clearly I know what happens next. They overwhelm a woman with so much pleasure her mind blanks and her muscles liquefy, quote unquote. What I meant was: what happens after the pleasure fades and the sun rises?

  “I—”

  He pushes himself from the elbow he was leaning on and steps into me. “You’re overthinking this.”

  I open my mouth to protest because that’s what I’m supposed to do. “I—”

  Placing a finger to my lips, he stops an argument I hadn’t put the finishing touches on yet. “Trust me.”

  Trust. Such a simple little word.

  Do I trust that Shaw won’t hurt me? Yes.

  Do I trust that this won’t change the dynamics of our relationship? That, I honestly don’t know.

  I look away, my mind whirling. Noah, who is not more than twenty feet from us talking to a pretty, lithe brunette, spots us. His eyes snap to the jacket draped over Shaw’s forearm to Shaw’s face, where they linger for just a second or two, then travel over to mine.

  And they go hot.

  I mean…hotter than the surface of the sun hot.

  So hot, in fact, it liquefies all those nerves and doubts, replacing them with frantic need to just get back to the room and redefine the “Sin” in Sin City.

  Shaw’s gaze follows mine. He picks up his water, slams it back in one long gulp, and sets the glass down with a hard thud. He hands me mine and directs me to drink. Once I’ve finished, he gently grabs me by the bicep and tugs on me.