Alphas of Sin

by Anthology

  “Yes, James. I liked it very much.” Her tone is snarky. Such sass from this girl.

  “Did you now? I couldn’t tell.” I let my fingers trace the lines of her smiling face.

  “Now you’re just being cruel, James.”

  “Hmm, am I?” I look at my silver wristwatch, the dial visible in the dim light from her window. “You know, you made me wait eighteen months and it’s only been fifteen minutes.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m still not sure we should be doing this. Are you punishing me?”

  I reach down and pinch her nipple, earning a yelp. Before she can smack me or push me away, I grip her hands over her head and lean my body down against hers, keeping her trapped on the bed. She tries to dislodge me with her hips… unsuccessfully.

  “For each month you’ve said no, I’m exacting a minute of torture. So am I punishing you? In a matter of speaking, I am. This is going to be the longest three minutes of your life, sweet girl.” Growling against her ear, I nip the lobe gently, earning a delicious moan of surrender.

  “Be kind,” she whispers and softly kisses my cheek.

  Using my nose, I nudge her face to mine. “Always.” I kiss her lips, forcing her to open her mouth. Sweet strawberries and her tang wrap around my tongue. Her kiss is heaven with a kick in the ass. Our bodies rub together, creating heat. I calculate the time in my head. Even if I have to unman myself to last that long, it will be three minutes.

  “Wait.” She tries to lift up and I pause. If she says no, I might just cry, but I’d never force her.

  Gritting my teeth, I take a breath before speaking. “What?”

  Her eyelids flutter once before her tongue darts out to lick her top lip. “Protection?”

  Looking down, I smile at her. “I haven’t been with anyone in over eighteen months. I’m clean.” Her eyes open wide, likely surprised by my confession. I let one wrist go and palm the softness of her belly. Crazy as it sounds, I’d love to stick a child in there and watch her plump with my seed, but that’s another conversation for another day.

  “I take my pill daily. There’s been no one else since I started working for you.” She looks down at my hand and then back to my face.

  “Why have we been torturing each other?” She doesn’t answer and I let my cock, hard and pulsing, rest at the apex of her center. Her hips lift to meet mine and grind against me. The wetness between her thighs makes my thrust slip against her skin as I pull away just enough to fall lower and press against her, the tip of my cock pushing in between her lips. “Casey, sweet girl…,” I groan, feeling her clench.

  “We can’t go back from this, James.” I feel her open her legs a little wider and take a deep breath, preparing herself for me.

  “I don’t ever want to go back.”

  I push in fully, feeling her hot channel squeeze me. Feeling her muscles contract against me as I slowly thrust in and out is glorious. I’m rendered insensible by Casey Cole. I clutch her face between my hands as I thrust into her body, which meets mine stroke for stroke. I watch her face contort in pleasure and she moans as I brush messy tendrils of hair from her face. She turns her face to my palm and I feel her lower body contract.

  “We still have another two minutes, sweet girl.” The squeal of displeasure is loud, making me laugh as I slow my thrusts down, barely touching the spot she wants so badly.

  “You’re shameless, James.” Casey tries to wrap her legs around my hips, but I don’t give her the chance to lock her ankles around me. Pulling out, I flip her over onto her side, holding her against me. Our breathing is harsh, our bodies overheated.

  “I’ll make it worth the wait,” I whisper hoarsely against her neck, licking her skin. Hugging her body close, I keep a grip on her hands and arms, forcing her to keep still. It’s a slightly awkward position, but one that lets me maintain control. I use my knee to pull her legs apart and slip my cock back in, not giving her the time to think about it. My free hand slips over her body and between those luscious thighs to play with her clit. I gently flick it when I push deeply into her.

  “Oh god, James.” I feel her body relax with the pleasure, and I kiss her neck, sucking on the skin. It’ll leave a mark on her I want the whole world to see. No more hiding, no more pretending, no more faking it. Her moans become sexy little grunts as I pump faster and flick her harder, rubbing the slick skin. I let my tongue roam her neck before biting her and sucking, making another visible love bite.

  Finally, her body convulses and I continue to thrust mercilessly, taking my own pleasure, spilling deep inside her core. I hold her close to me as she comes down from her orgasm, and I have no intention of letting her go.

  Kissing the back of her head, I tell her, “Sweet girl, make no mistake about it. You are mine.” Her hands, which I’ve released, snake around my neck, and I pull out so she can turn over to embrace me. She looks worn, sleepy, and not likely to escape from the bed anytime soon. A gentle kiss pecks the corner of my mouth as Casey settles into a slumber, the beginnings of a small smile curving her lips.

  M.C. CERNY

  M.C. Cerny fell in love with books after experiencing her first real ugly cry reading, Where The Red Fern Grows. Her debut romantic suspense novel, Flashpoint was written in a series of post-it-note ramblings that would likely make her idol Tom Clancy and her mother blush. She is a post graduate of NYU, and calls rural NJ home with her menagerie of human and feline fur-babies. When M.C. is not writing, you’ll find her lurking in Starbucks, running stupid marathons, singing Disney show tunes, and searching out the perfect shade of pink nail polish.

  Website: http://mccerny.blogspot.com/

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  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MartaWritesBooks

  THE UNATTAINABLE CHIEF ~ MICHELLE DARE

  CHAPTER 1

  Liam

  My desk is cluttered beyond belief. Not with junk that never made it to the trashcan. No, it’s littered with patient files, phone messages, and a host of other pieces of paper I need to tend to. Only I don’t want to. What I want to do is go to bed and sleep for a solid week. Too bad that’s not an option for me. I accepted this job and all of the responsibilities that come with it.

  It’s eleven at night and I need to go home. I’m exhausted. I spent half of my day in surgery and the other half dealing with administrative matters. I don’t have a regular nine-to-five job, and as tired as I am, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love what I do. I love that I help people and can change their lives. While I do have my bad days, the good ones outnumber them.

  Once I’ve sorted all of the paper on my desk into neat piles, to deal with tomorrow, I hang up my white jacket and quickly change out of my scrubs into a pair of jeans, a black tee, and throw on a waist-length North Face coat. I grab my keys, my phone, and my pager. With the turn of a key, my office is locked. I make the long walk to the parking garage, waving and saying goodnight to doctors and nurses as I pass by.

  Ah, my SUV is in sight. I’m so close to slipping into its smooth leather seats and going home. I bought my black Mercedes AMG G63 a year ago, when I was promoted to Chief of Surgery. It was a gift to myself. After all, I don’t have a wife or kids to celebrate with. Sure, the hospital staff was nice enough to throw a small party, but going home to an empty house isn’t exactly something I love.

  It’s not as if there hasn’t been anyone interested in being in a relationship with me, quite the contrary. However, I’m not going to be someone’s boyfriend, let alone husband, if I don’t love them. Besides, meeting people is hard as hell when you spend the majority of your time in a hospital. There’s also the fact that most women don’t understand everything my job entails, including spending more time at work than at home.

  I don’t dip my quill in the company ink. I stay far away from the women we employ. I’ve got quite a reputation about it, too. Every time a new woman starts–nurse or doctor–they give me the doe eyes until another nurse, or someone on o
ur staff, sets them straight. I know they whisper about me behind my back. I’m not ignorant to it. The Unattainable Chief: the one no one can hook.

  I run a tight ship. The job we do can mean the difference between life and death. I’ll be damned if I’m going to do anything to jeopardize the well-being of a patient in our care because I can’t keep my dick in my pants.

  Sliding into my Benz, I hit the button to warm the seats and turn the heat on high. Winding my way out of the parking garage, I turn left toward home and listen as tiny ice pellets hit my windshield and roof. February in the Northeast: no surprise about the weather. Hopefully people stay home and don’t try to venture out in this until the road department has had a chance to salt. Thankfully, I have all-wheel drive.

  I’m about a block from the hospital when I remember I have nothing to eat at home, and I mean nothing. I can’t make a sandwich. Not even peanut butter and jelly. There’s a grocery store on my way home. I’ll hit it up quick and buy a few essentials.

  The parking lot is sparse when I pull into the brightly lit, twenty-four seven store. Snow has begun mixing with the sleet and quickly coats my black jacket. Inside I find mostly workers and a handful of customers. I zip up and down the aisles, not wanting to waste too much time shopping. I value the small amount of sleep I get and have zero interest in spending more time than needed grocery shopping. Food is essential, so I suck it the hell up and do what I need to. I grab food, toiletries, and all kinds of shit, so I don’t have to come back for at least a week, if not more.

  I bag while the woman behind the register scans each item. I can feel her eyes on me every now and then, but I busy myself with putting my stuff into white plastic bags. Eventually, I look up and catch her watching me. I smile, and she quickly glances away. My jacket is unzipped with only the tee beneath, which pulls tight across my chest. I know what women see when they look at me. I work out every morning before going to the hospital. Staying in shape is mandatory for me. It keeps me moving, keeps me healthy. My dark hair is trimmed and combed neatly back. Every morning I shave, although there is a day’s worth of stubble showing. Beyond that, though, I want someone who wants to be with me for more than my looks or money. I want someone who wants me for me.

  With the bill paid, and my items packed, I tell the woman to be careful when she goes home since the roads are icy. She smiles and nods but doesn’t say anything.

  Outside, I unlock my SUV and drop the bags into the back. The sleet has stopped, for the time being, with only tiny snowflakes left to fall from the sky. The ground has a coating of snow on it now with ice beneath, thanks to the sleet that fell for a while.

  As I step to open my driver’s side door, I notice a woman walk past me to the parking spot two away from mine. I open my door then hear a small yelp. I quickly shut my door and move to make sure she’s okay. Rounding the back of my Benz, I see her lying on her side with her arm bent beneath her. Luckily, there is a light near us shining down. Her long, golden blonde hair drapes in front of her like a curtain, blocking out my view of her face.

  I rush over and crouch down next to her. “Are you okay?” I ask.

  Her voice wavers when she speaks, and her eyes are cast down to her arm. “N…n…no. I think I broke it.” Dropping to my knees, I reach for her. She tries to recoil, but pain laces her features. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m a doctor. I want to help you up and look at your arm.” She shifts to a sitting position as a cry of pain comes from her lips; her arm held by her opposite hand. “Let me help you up.”

  “I’m a nurse. I know it’s broken.” I can’t help but wonder if she works at the same hospital as me. She doesn’t look familiar.

  “I’d still like to look.”

  She focuses on me, raking me from my sneakers to my jacket, as she sits in the ice and snow. “How do I know you’re not some guy pretending to be a doctor?”

  I sigh and walk briskly over to my SUV. Inside I find my hospital ID and return to a crouch on the slick pavement in front of her, so she can see I am who I say. “I wasn’t lying.”

  She takes it in her hand and her eyes widen. They look from the badge to me and back again. “You’re Liam Kase, the Chief of Surgery.” Okay, so maybe she does work for me.

  “I am. How do you know that?” I have no clue who she is.

  “I’m a nurse at Amandine Mountain General.”

  “Ah. That explains it.” AMG is the other big hospital in the county. It’s located about a half-hour from Hope Ridge Medical Center, where I work. I know the names of most of their top doctors. I’m not surprised she knows who I am. Although, I don’t know hers. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Amelia,” she says, and winces again when she tries to stand. She settles back on her ass and doesn’t move. “Amelia Finch,” she adds in a rush of breath.

  I stand and walk behind her. My hands go to her waist as I gently lift her into a standing position. She doesn’t fight me. One way or another, she has to stand.

  She sways on her feet. Stepping closer, I wrap my arm around her stomach to steady her. She’s got to be a good ten inches shorter than my six foot, three-inch frame. Her body is small against mine. She feels fragile, delicate.

  I lean my head down and catch the scent of her hair. Berries. Sweet, succulent berries. It does crazy things to my body. Enough that I move my hand to her waist and take a step back. “Are you okay to stand? I want to look at your arm.” I need to focus on the task at hand and not how my body is reacting to her.

  Her voice comes out on a whisper. “I think so.”

  Gently, I release her, but stay close in case she has trouble remaining upright. The pain alone would make her sway like she did, if it is indeed fractured. As carefully as possible, I take her arm in my hands and push the sleeves of her coat and shirt up. I don’t want to ask her to take it off since it’s so cold out. Fortunately, it’s not tight and moves up her arm with ease. Her eyes squeeze shut as I do it. Her forearm has already begun to swell.

  “I heard a crack when I landed on it,” she says with a strained voice.

  “Can you move your fingers?” She very slowly moves one at a time. Then I feel the inside of her wrist for a pulse to make sure she’s still getting good blood flow from her forearm to her hand. “What about your wrist?” She’s able to move it, but the more she does, the more her face scrunches with pain. “Stay here.” Amelia slowly brings her arm back to her stomach to cradle it protectively.

  Bending down, I pick up her groceries, along with her purse, and place them in the back of my SUV. I also rummage through the medical bag I keep in here to see if I have a splint. I want to keep her arm as immobile as possible on the drive to the hospital. Luckily, I do.

  “What are you doing? I need those.”

  Turning back to her, I say, “I know you do, but you also need to come with me, so I can get you properly taken care of. We need X-rays and to make sure you don’t need surgery. Now, give me your arm again.” I carefully put it in the splint and escort her to the passenger side.

  “I can drive myself.”

  “You might be able to, but I won’t allow you to. You’re in pain. A lot of pain, I imagine. Add that to the slick roads and it’s a car accident waiting to happen.” She gives me a resigned look but doesn’t fight me further.

  I open the door, and as gently as possible, lift her the small distance inside. The last thing I want it is to jostle her arm. After helping buckle her in, I take out an ice scraper, which also has a brush on the other end, and make quick work of cleaning the ice and snow off of my vehicle. I walk to the driver’s side and get in.

  “Can you please take me to AMG?” she asks.

  I turn to her and give her an incredulous look. “You’re joking?”

  She lifts her chin. “Not at all. I may be in pain, but I also know the orthopedic surgeon on call tonight. I want him to look at my arm.” I grind my teeth. The very thought of her knowing the ortho on call sets me on edge. And for no reason. I don’t
know this woman, yet feel strangely protective of her.

  “How well do you know him?” I shouldn’t be asking her, but I need to know. Is he her husband? The dim interior light is still illuminated since I haven’t started the Benz yet. I glance down at her left hand where it cradles her right arm. No ring on her finger. Could be a boyfriend, though.

  Looking back at her face, I watch as her mouth drops slightly open. “You have no business asking me a question like that.”

  I shrug. “Maybe not, but I still asked it and expect an answer.” Starting the SUV, I quickly turn on both heated seats and am sure to point the vents toward her to warm her up. We were outside too long, but I didn’t want to move her too suddenly. I’m glad she has a decent jacket on and not one of those that look good on women, but do shit for warmth.

  Backing out of the parking spot, I drive through the lot, waiting for an answer. She keeps her lips sealed, making me wonder who this guy is to her. It’s only when I turn left does she speak up.

  “I said to take me to AMG.”

  “And I never agreed to that. I’m driving; therefore, I say where we go. I have the best orthopedic surgeons in the state. That’s who will evaluate you.” She scoffs. She’s got an attitude and I like it.

  “Whatever. I want copies of the X-rays and the detailed report from the doctor sent over to mine.”

  “If it will make you happy, then I’ll be sure they get sent over.”

  We stop at a red light. The snow continues to fall; the roadway is blanketed in white with only tire tracks going through it. I look over at Amelia. Her head rests back on the seat. Her arm is held close to her body, and her face is tight in pain. I wish I had something with me to help her, but I don’t carry any medications, especially not something strong enough to help make her more comfortable. Plus, I don’t know her medical history. She could be allergic to some medications.