Alphas: Supes and Badboys (8 Books in One)

by Myles, Eden

  He smirked, caught my pointed chin in his palm. “Afraid, little witch?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I should hate for you to be afraid of me.”

  He flicked his wings and the whole room went topsy-turvy. I let out my breath in a squeak. It took me a moment to realize I was lying upside down against the ornate tin ceiling with Mr. Angelus pinning me. Still smirking, he said, “Now are you afraid?”

  “No.” His show of power had just made me more defiant. I reached up and grabbed his red tie and jerked his head forward, kissing him to show him how much I wanted him, how I didn’t fear him at all. His lips were soft and his mouth searing hot. His teeth were sharp, but I didn’t mind at all. His wings beat rhythmically against the ceiling as we kissed and he breathed into me. I groaned as his heat filled me with desire. Then he turned his head and whispered his proposal into my ear.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Certain?” His voice was huskier than usual, and tinged with mischief. “As a devil, I’m more inclined to powers of inspiration and the…sensual arts…than fear or pain.”

  “I’ve never been more sure, my Prince.” I presented my wrists to him.

  He used his necktie to bind them together. The silken material was soft but unyielding, and his touch gentle but firm. He kissed my bound wrists, his lips burning against my skin. “Now that dress,” he said, and with a wave of his hand, it was gone, leaving me trembling and naked beneath him, dressed in only my black pumps and fishnet stockings. He slid skillful hands up and down my shivering skin, spread my legs with his palms. He looked me up and down and I blushed. The thought that he could see how wet I was, how wanting and excited, only made me wetter and made my pussy clench in anticipation. I’d never wanted anyone so much in my life.

  First, he stroked his long fingers over my face and lips until the tension left my body, then he dipped his face to feather biting kisses along my neck and down between my bare breasts, making them peak and my body tremble at his touch. His teeth grazed my shoulder and sank into the flesh and I let out a cry before he relented and licked the little wound he had made.

  “I didn’t know you were a vampire,” I gasped out, my legs trembling against his.

  “Every witch should have a devil’s mark,” he growled and moved lower, a hand sliding between my thighs and making my legs scissor wider apart. I squealed when his hot, wet tongue danced over my navel and down to my clit. He lapped at my labia before tugging at the supersensitive flesh there, then drank the juices from my opening like they were wine. I moaned and twisted, a part of me wanting to move, a part of me never wanting to move. Suddenly, Darlene and Chelsea were there, crawling naked across the ceiling like a pair of beautiful, human-shaped bats, and when they reached me I knew it was too late to escape.

  Laughing, Chelsea held my bound hands down over my head while Darlene purred and bent her head to kiss me upside down, driving her tongue down my throat while her hands roamed over my breasts, squeezing and kneading the heavy mounds and hard nipples. I moaned and rocked my hips against Mr. Angelus’s eager, plundering tongue.

  He made little growling noises while he ate me out. His teeth clamped down over my clit, forcing an orgasm out of me. I squealed and came with an all-over shudder.

  “That didn’t take long,” Darlene observed with a naughty grin. “Girlfriend hasn’t gotten any in a while.”

  My face flushed but I refused to let them get the better of me. “I’m just very picky about who I take as my lovers.”

  “So we make your cut, then, eh, sugar?” Chelsea asked, leaning down to nuzzle my neck, her beautiful, fragrant blond hair swishing over my face.

  “Mmm,” I responded as the two girls fluttered kisses over my face and up and down my throat. I squirmed in delight, clenching my legs down around Mr. Angelus’s head, who was still busy lapping up all the juice dripping off my thighs. I reflected that the only thing that could make this night more perfect was a soft bed as the carven tin ceiling was digging into my back between my shoulder blades.

  No sooner had I thought it, but I felt a flutter in my lower belly that I thought was an orgasm but turned out to be some form of witchery. Suddenly the room was transformed and I found all three of us lying on a huge, canopied bed large enough to comfortably hold an orgy. It had red satin sheets, just like in my fantasies, and the ornate bedchamber was dim and full of burning candles and more of those Romance paintings, some quite scandalous.

  “I told you that you were powerful,” Chelsea moaned.

  “Sex makes it stronger,” Darlene said.

  “Worship, too,” Chelsea added, and it made me wonder if that was the reason these beautiful witches danced in the club downstairs, if the lust and worship they receive from their admirers didn’t make them stronger. It made sense.

  I tried to move, to reach for them, but Darlene waved her hand and suddenly my bound hands were tied to the ornately carved headboard.

  “No yet, honey love,” she said cheekily.

  Chelsea giggled and the tattoo of a butterfly across her bare white breasts jiggled. “The Prince isn’t done with you yet.”

  “Hey, no fair,” I protested. “You used magic.”

  “You used it first,” Darlene countered. “And you used it in the no-magic zone.”

  There was a no-magic zone?

  “Ladies, let’s not fight.” Mr. Angelus lay at the foot of the bed on his side, am arm propping up his head. There was a deep, one-sided smirk on his face.

  “Yes, Prince,” they answered, coming to attention.

  He flicked his wings with excitement. “Our little witch used magic in the no-magic zone. What do you think? Should she be punished for breaking the rules?”

  They agreed I should be as I figured they would.

  “You bitches,” I said, laughing. “I didn’t know the rules!”

  “Ignorance of the law does not exempt one from it,” said Mr. Angelus as he turned me as far as I was able in my bonds. “Besides, a little discipline never hurt anybody.” He whispered that last in my ear, pressing the hard plains of his body against my back and ass. Then he whispered what words I could use to stop him if I found myself outside my comfort zone and he asked me if I was ready.

  “No, but do it anyway.” I was feeling both giddy and wicked tonight. “I’d hate to be a rule-breaker.”

  “She’s one naughty witch,” Chelsea said.

  “Naughty witches need a spanking and a good fucking. Don’t you agree?” Mr. Angelus whispered hoarsely in my ear, making me tremble with anticipation.

  I moaned out a “Yes.”

  He slid one hand between my legs to my quivering sex to stroke and pinch it. The touch of his hand made me ache to feel him inside of me finally. But before I could beg, his other hand lifted high and swished downward, meeting my ass cheeks with a sharp crack that echoed through the room. I gasped at the sudden pain and jerked in his grip, but Mr. Angelus held me immobile, massage my sex, calmed me. He purred seductively in my ear. I was surprised by how much my cunt and lower belly fluttered at the stimulation.

  He kneaded my heated ass cheek and murmured soft words until I was calm again, and just as I was about to moan in delight, lifted his hand high in the air once more and brought it down in a whizzing arc.

  I screamed with pain, pleasure, humiliation and ecstasy. I squirmed uncontrollably as he massaged my ass, and this time I found myself crying out, “Please, please, please fuck me, Prince.”

  “Not yet, little witch.”

  He dealt me four more hard blows that left me moaning and twisting in my bonds and shoveling my ass up in the hopes that I would tempt him. I needed him to show me mercy and fuck me hard at last. It was all I could think about.

  “Hmm, temping the Tempter,” Mr. Angelus whispered, his voice deep, dark and raw. “That deserves six more blows, witch.”

  I was screeching and sweating with need by the time he finished with me. By then, even the girls were begging him to end my misery. “Anything,”
I gasped. “I’ll give you anything if you’ll just fuck me already.”

  “Anything?” he moaned in my ear. “Anything I ask?”

  “Yes!” I barked out. I was sure he would ask for my soul, and at that moment, I just didn’t care.

  He offered me a throaty chuckle. “I’ll tell you what I want later.” His long, dexterous fingers played over my sex like a man expertly playing a musical instrument or like an artist plying his art. He was gentle, rough, demanding. Insatiable in his desire to torment me. He reached deep inside me, commanded my body. He had told the truth when he said he was the muse of sex. My eyes just about rolled up in my head and I came with a shudder once more for him, ejaculating all over his hand. Again, that chuckle. I heard him sucking my juices off his fingers. “How many men have made you come that hard?”

  “None,” I breathed out in a little wheeze. “Only you.”

  “Good,” he answered breathlessly as his lust ramped up even more. “I want to be the only man in your life, Kat. I want to be the only one who can make you squeal and come. Your body is my playground, my wonderland. My treasure to own and enjoy.”

  “Yes,” I panted out.

  “I’m a jealous devil, and I guard what is mine jealously.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  He undid his trousers and took himself in hand, stroking, so I could see his enormous, veiny cock, already dripping with precum. The head was thick and purple with need, and I shuddered in fear and excitement at the sight of it.

  “Madre de Dios,” I moaned as he nudged his huge dick into my seeping pussy, then sighed as it filled me perfectly, stretching me and making me conform to his size. He slid a hand up my spine and into my hair, nested his fingers in my long black and purple strands, and yanked my head back hard as he filled me with a series of masculine grunts. My pussy clenched around his purposeful thrusts, and I heard him groan in approval.

  “She’s wonderfully tight and so very wet,” he said to the girls, his voice a low, primal growl. “It’s like her cunt was made to take my cock.”

  I mewled as the size of him pushed me almost past the point of pleasure and into pain. I almost wasn’t sure I could take him, but he shushed me. “Be still, my witch. You’ll stretch for me. Soon you’ll take me in both holes with no problem. You’ll dream at night of taking my seed deep within you.”

  His wanton words made me thrust back into him, eager to take as much of himself inside me as I could. He was so hot, so burning hot and fat within me. I felt the heat of him radiating out slowly through my body. Slowly, he increased his rhythm, going from shallow thrusts to deeper, more punishing plunges deep inside my wet, clenching cunt. He pulled my hair and fucked me harder and harder, his rigid shaft pistoning over my g-spot until I found myself crying out at the impacts. They pushed me forward into the pillows, the back onto his dick. I felt his balls slapping my ass as his urgent need to empty himself increased his rhythm, made it fierce and erratic as he reached his end. The sting after such a thorough spanking made me moan and bite my tongue to keep from shrieking with pleasure and pain.

  Pressure slowly built as he shuttled in and out, harder, faster. My fingers clenched and scraped at the headboard, leaving deep gouges in the woodwork. His wings beat against the air, creating a powerful wind that shushed around us. I could smell his sweet, cloying maleness, and under it a faint whiff of brimstone.

  Once more, I could feel that heat and electricity building between us, and suddenly the candles in the room flared upward. The pressure burst within me and I felt a rush of power encompass us both as we came together, shouting our release. He shuddered and shot his burning seed through me. At the same time, every door slammed and every picture fell from the walls. He sank sharp fingernails into my shoulder and rode my ass hard as our orgasm carried us both through the storm and filled us with heat and power and bliss.

  Finished, he pulled out and bent to lick my sex clean. I shivered and cried out, my whole body sore and oversensitive after such incredible lovemaking. When he was done, he gathered me against him, the girls untied my wrists, and we settled down in a pile to snuggle and warm ourselves in each other’s arms.

  “My sweet little witch,” he said, kissing the faint bruising the silk had made around my wrists.

  I felt at peace. Wanted. Loved. Protected. He told me a little more bit about what I was, what he was, and what we could do together. I should have been terrified, I know, but for the first time, my soul was at rest.

  * * *

  As I had requested, Vincent had installed two stripper poles in the center of the stage, and between them hung a chain with a reinforced metal swing like the ones used in circus performances. Dressed in my cat costume, I swung back forth over the heads of the patrons while I wriggled like a butterfly out of my cocoon of sparkling fabrics, slowly revealing more and more while the patrons sat slack-jawed in their seats. It took serious coordination, but I was up to the task.

  Finally, I leapt from the swing and hit the stage on my glass platform heels, dressed in nothing but little frayed threads. I danced, looking over the flushed, drunken faces of the patrons of Mephisto’s Waltz, some briefly illuminated by the flame-eaters doing their gigs at the sides of the stage. I could feel their worship. I could feel myself growing fat on the power that poured off them.

  Soon the patrons were on their feet, clapping and catcalling. Were it not for Vincent up front, several of the more desperate ones might have crawled up onto the stage, but he mercilessly tossed them aside like they weighed nothing more than bags of flour. When the way was clear, he motioned for me to pass.

  I was heading backstage when I suddenly stopped. The fire-eaters had briefly illuminated one very familiar face in the crowd…but maybe I was wrong. I quickly dismissed it. I was just tired, doing two or three performances per night. It was clear I needed some sleep, and some quality time with my little coven of lovers.

  “You were great, chica!” the girls squealed when I stepped backstage. They hugged me and each of them gave me a warm, wet kiss. I then turned to Mr. Angelus, and with a cry, jumped excitedly into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He lifted me up and kissed me while his hands slid over my ass, giving it a tender squeeze. He licked my lips with a hungry growl. Tasting his mouth and the heat of his body, the rigid press of his erection against my belly, I was immediately wet for him.

  “Let’s go upstairs and have some fun, honey love,” Darlene said.

  I turned to Darlene and jumped into her arms. She caught me easily, and I mashed my lips against hers. For one moment, we exchanged lipsticks, then I said, “Just let me clean up and change and I’ll be right back.”

  “You know, it would be much easier and more convenient if you just lived upstairs with us,” Chelsea suggested. She made a purring noise and added, “We could have fun anytime.” She looked to our lovers for confirmation, and I saw the eagerness gleaming in their eyes.

  “I’ll definitely think about that!” I said as I ran for the employee’s exit.

  I was seriously contemplating their offer as I used my key card to let myself into my hotel room. In the past few weeks, I had found myself referring to us in conversation far more often than me, something that had never happened before. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t alone, and I was happy. It was time I committed, I thought.

  “Miss Wiggles, you’ll never know what happened tonight!” I called with glee. I was so full of light, energy and anticipation, it completely clouded the bad feeling I had been having all night. But I felt a pulse of it as I walked in the door.

  The room was dark except for the glitter of the Las Vegas Strip outside my window. I hit the lights.

  The first thing I saw was Miss Wiggles lying dead on the floor, her fur soaking wet. The next thing was Jason sitting in the chair by the window. He was dressed in the hotel’s bellhop uniform and clutching a gag in both hands. His face was contorted into a mask of hatred so bestial I was taken aback by it.

  I started to scream in fear
and outrage, but he lunged at me and got the gag around my throat. “Witch,” he snarled in my ear as he tightened it. The world went black.

  * * *

  I woke cold, gasping for breath. I couldn’t breathe and cold water was sloshing up my nose and down my throat. I tried to scream, but more water just filled my mouth and choked my voice.

  “Fucking die, already!” Jason was screaming in hatred at me.

  It took me a moment to realize that I was being held down in the big soaking tub in the bathroom, that Jason’s burned and mangled hands were knotted around my neck and he was pushing me down and down into the cold water. I panicked and screamed. Water filled my mouth and lungs and his image went blurry as he pushed me under.

  He was still screaming obscenities as he let me up. I only caught snatches of his words. “…not good enough…fucking cunt….bitch…tell you…!”

  Up and down, he pushed me, cold water sloshing down my throat and cutting off my panicked screams. I kicked and flailed, banging my arms and legs against the edge of the tub and sloshing water all over the floor, but it did no good. I knew he was trying to drown me, the way he had drowned my cat. It was difficult to think through the terror and need for air, but as he pushed me down once more, I felt something new. Rage.

  I was so tired of people hurting me, taking advantage of me. As I came up out of the water, I lost all fear, and with a scream, I grabbed Jason’s arm. Fire immediately burst around his flesh and raced up his arm to his shoulder. With a shriek, he let me go and flew back, hitting a wall, knocking down the bathroom mirror.

  Coughing, my vision swimming, I tried to crawl from the tub, but I was too weak. I only got a little ways before he lunged at me, and with flaming hands, pushed my head under once more. Water again filled my eyes, ears, mouth and lungs. I screamed. Darkness seeped into the corners of my eyes, and I thought, Well, this is it. This is the end. What a crappy way to die, just when I learned how to be in love…