Red Hot Alphas: 11 Novels of Sexy, Bad Boy, Alpha Males (Red Hot Boxed Sets Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  Once again, he must read something on my face that I don't intend to show, because his eyes glint.

  "Yeah," I whisper. "I want you to tell me that."

  "You're such a fuckin' sex fiend," he murmurs, leaning in for a quick kiss. Too quick. My lips try to follow his, but he pulls away firmly, laying his hands on my shoulders to hold me down. "You've been starved for attention way too long, haven't you?"

  I nod, unable to speak.

  "How long's it been since you had an orgasm that wasn't battery-powered? I mean, aside from earlier, of course." He licks his lips, briefly, and I want to imagine he's savoring the memory.

  "I don't even know," I whisper. It's true. It's been so long since I gave up on men, I lost count.

  He brushes a tendril of hair away from the side of my face. "Well, if you want to hear that you're captivating, you got the right man. I'm captivated. When I'm alone, you're what I think about. I had this fantasy that you'd tell me you needed to 'audition' me some other way. I've run through that one so many times, it's got the production values of a Hollywood blockbuster. It might get nominated for Best Picture."

  After the overwhelming roller coaster that was today, I'm still feeling off-balance, still reluctant to trust, to believe what I'm seeing right in front of my face. My heart's pounding a million beats a second, and I've let his eyes draw me in, but I'm reluctant to surrender completely.

  If I lose myself in him, I don't know when or how or where I'll find myself again.

  "Hey." He tilts my chin up a little, with a single finger. "Where are you going, Kimberly? Don't leave me all alone here." His mouth twitches a little. "I meant what I said before. If I start going too far, if I go somewhere you don't want me to go, then stop me. Stop me right away. Don't even hesitate. If you need to kick me out, kick me out. If you need to push me away, do it. But if you're here with me, you're here with me. All the way."

  I take in a deep breath, and let it out in a rush. "When you came to my aerobics class, I was impressed, but I was worried, too. I was afraid that you were actually buying into it. It scared me, the idea that you'd really let the idea of Landon Steele change your behavior. That guy's a great fantasy for those battery-powered orgasms, but you don't exactly want to take him home to Mom."

  "What are you saying?" His smile grows a little. "Are you saying I'm in the kind of guy you can take home to Mom?"

  "Maybe," I say, nearly breathless. "You're certainly the kind of guy a girl could stand to get to know a little better."

  "Right," he says. "Maybe six weeks is too early to talk about meeting the parents."

  There's a moment of silence, while we both soak this in.

  "Are we talking about real life here, Kim?" he says, finally. "Are we talking about you and me?" He clears his throat. "I just want to be sure. Sometimes I feel like that brain of yours is running circles around me."

  "You don't know how smart you are," I sigh, winding my arms around his neck. "It's just one of your many charming qualities."

  "So that's a yes?" He lets our foreheads touch, gently.

  "Yes, Josh. Yes. I'm talking about you and me. Us. Together." I let out an exaggerated sigh.

  That eyebrow is going again. "I know. I just wanted to hear you say it."

  "God damn it, Mr. Steele." The last of my exclamation is muffled as he wraps me up in a tight hug, and I can feel his little hum of contentment vibrating through my chest. "What am I going to do with you?"

  "I have a couple suggestions." He tilts his hips towards mine, so I have no choice but to feel his arousal.

  And just like that, every emotion washes away in a swell of lust. Well - maybe not every emotion. I'm on the verge of saying something stupid, something really stupid, so it's a good thing he kisses me soundly and banishes all the words I can't let myself say.

  His tongue plunders my mouth, just taking, claiming, and I waste a few precious seconds wondering if this is how he really likes it, or if he's just giving me what he thinks I need. He's not wrong, but with him, I could stand some gentleness. I could stand to make love.

  And there it is - the word I don't dare say.

  Not now. Now, I just want to give in to the desperate rush of passion, everything we've both apparently wanted to do since we met, but wouldn't let ourselves.

  "Condoms?" I gasp, when he finally breaks away.

  His eyes are clouded with lust, and it takes him a second to recalibrate. "There's some in the minibar," he rumbles. "You think the studio will send you the bill if a ten dollar 'intimacy kit' shows up on the hotel charges?"

  "They better not." I'm laughing, pushing him out of the way so I can grab the stupid little cardboard packet from the fridge. "The real question is, why the fuck were you looking for condoms in the mini-bar?"

  "I wasn't looking for condoms," he growls, grabbing me by the hips and seizing me to him again. He pulls the packet from my grasp and tosses them on the bedside table, before walking me towards the tempting king-size that still has mints scattered on the pillow. "Before you showed up, I was thinking of getting incredibly wasted and jerking off to terrible pay-per-view porn."

  "Oh, I didn't mean to ruin your plans," I purr, while his hands roam up my skirt and grab handfuls of my ass. "Please, don't let me get in the way."

  He laughs, and it's full of sin and promise. "Keep it up with your smart mouth, and maybe I'll just tie you up in the corner and make you watch."

  "You wouldn't," I whisper, scandalized, knowing he's bluffing but still letting the idea of his control, his punishment, light me up inside.

  His hands travel back around to my front, resting on my shoulders now. "Try me," he growls, moments before shoving me backwards so I land sprawling on the bed. I'm laughing, squirming, trying to get upright but not really wanting to do anything but drown in him. He comes down after me, caging me in with his body before I can get my bearings.

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He captures my wrists, holding them down above my head. "You ever thought about watching me before?"

  "Of course," I whimper, trying to sound defiant but failing miserably. "I've got a pulse, don't I?"

  Laughing, he ducks down and nips at my collarbone. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Ms. Tuggey. Feel free to keep trying, though."

  A moment later he releases my arms, and I have to admit I'm a tiny bit disappointed. When he gets up on his knees so he can look down on me, I'm okay with that, at first - until his gaze starts to feel a little too penetrating, and not in a fun way. I'm not used to being looked at like this. I said I wanted somebody who found me captivating, but actually being looked at like that? It's a little unnerving. I feel like he can see every flaw.

  "Turn over," he intones, after an eternity. I stare up at him, pulse quickening.

  Moments pass.

  "Turn over," he repeats, his eyes narrowing. "I'm starting to lose patience with you."

  I swallow hard. "Umm..."

  I don't know how to explain to him that I know it's a bad angle for me. I don't want him to look at me like that, exposed, and without me being able to see his face. To judge his reactions.

  "I won't do anything you don't want," he says, finally, his voice softening a little. He's misjudged my hesitation. I'm burning for him, so badly I'll take him any way he'll have me. Yet, strangely, I don't want him to look at me.

  He thinks you're beautiful. He thinks you're so beautiful, he can't understand that you don't feel the same way.

  That's what I try to tell myself as I roll over, letting him see me from an angle that I hate more than anything.

  There's a heart-stopping moment of silence, and I hear a sharp intake of breath. His fingers curl around my hips.

  "Up," he whispers, and I obey. Getting on my hands and knees for him. I haven't done this in years, not since college, when one of my drunken hookups turned me around like this so he wouldn't have to see my face. He didn't tell me that was the reason, but I just knew.

  Obviously, that's not the case with Josh. But still.r />
  He worships me with his wandering hands, with the sounds of increasingly ragged breathing as his eyes roam my body. I'm melting, aching for him to dip his fingers between my legs, but he's not ready yet.

  Well, he's clearly ready. But he's not going to. He has to make me wait.

  "I gotta say, I'm conflicted." His hands momentarily pause, resting right on my ass, the heat of him burning through the fabric of my pencil skirt, searing my skin. "I want to see you, all of you, completely naked, because I got a feeling not many people have seen you like that. Not even the men who've fucked you. Am I right?"

  Once again, he's so much smarter than he gives himself credit for.

  "Am I right?" he repeats.

  "Yes," I manage to whisper.

  "On the other hand," he says, "I love your ass in this skirt."

  My face is burning. I could almost laugh, but I don't dare.

  "You got me all tied up in knots," he murmurs, sliding closer to me, so that his hardness nudges against my thigh. "This is the hardest decision I've ever made."

  This time, I can't help but laugh. It's weak, but it's definitely a laugh, and he reacts immediately.

  One hand gripping the back of my neck, he looms over me, breathing hard in my ear. I whimper slightly, the laugh dying in my throat. "Did I say something funny, princess?"

  Oh. Oh. That name, coming out of his mouth, in that voice, does things to me. I moan softly. "No. No, sir."

  He chuckles, low and warm. "You like when I call you that?" Leaning over further now, so he can nuzzle at my neck. I shudder, goosebumps popping up all over. "Princess?"

  I nod, and before I can stop myself, I'm explaining. "Makes me think of Han Solo."

  This time, when he laughs, it resonates through my whole body. "Right. The original scoundrel. Everything's starting to make sense."

  I'm not going to ask him what the hell that means, because all I want is to stop talking and start shaking the bed. "Push the skirt up," I suggest, softly.

  "What's that?"

  "Push the skirt up," I repeat, a little more boldly this time. "I can sort of wear it and not wear it at the same time."

  He rears back up. "Oh, are you feeling anxious? You want to get on with it, huh?"

  I just nod, afraid of what will come out of my mouth if I dare to speak. Begging. Pleading. It's going to be horribly undignified, that's for sure.

  "Tell me how bad you want it," he commands, softly, but there's no getting around it. Of course he's not going to let me off that easy. I'm still ninety-nine percent sure he was bluffing about that whole "tie you up in the corner and make you watch" thing, but how far do I really want to push him?

  "More than anything," I whisper. "Please."

  "More than anything?" He's teasing me. His fingers find their way under the hem of my skirt, pushing it up, inch by inch, just like I suggested. "Is it that exciting, the idea of having me inside you? Hmm?"

  "Touch me and find out." Desperation has made me bold. My face is burning immediately, and God do I wish I hadn't said that, but it's too late now.

  "You don't give orders." His fingers grip around my thigh, almost bruisingly hard. "Understand? If you want me to touch you, ask nicely."

  My silence must give him pause, because his grip loosens slightly. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" There's still an edge of menace to his words, just enough to keep the mood going, but he's still asking permission. He's making sure I still want him in control, and that realization makes my heart swell.

  "Yes," I admit, quietly. "But not if you don't."

  I still hate the thought that he's always playing a role around me. I don't want him to feel like he has to be anyone other than himself, when we're together.

  His hand slides all the way up my spine, finally burying itself in my hair and tugging, just enough to make my scalp ache deliciously. "Baby girl, I spend most of my life being nice. I'll fucking respect you and treat you like an equal every other minute of the day. But when we're like this...all I wanna do is own you. Just for a little while. You bring out a part of me I've always denied. I thought it was bad, I thought it was wrong, 'cause that's what everybody taught me." He practically purrs in my ear, a feral sound of a predator who's not quite tamed. "It feels dirty, but I've learned to love dirty."

  Right on cue, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I can see Amy's userpic even through my lust-clouded eyes, but I can't even begin to interpret the words.

  "Turn that fucking thing off," Josh growls. And I obey.

  Fumbling with the button, I toss my phone onto the floor, laughing as it skitters under the bedside table.

  I hear a crinkling noise, and I picture him rummaging around frantically in the mini-bar for enough liquor to forget how much he wants me. Then, I moan as I feel his hot length sliding between my legs, banishing all thought. My panties are still on, but they're so soaked through they might as well not be. He rubs against me a little more, teasing, loving the way I squirm and gasp.

  Bucking helplessly, I rut against him.

  "Shh, relax." His hand rests on my lower back, a heavy heat that stills and controls me. "As much as I'd like to just slide into you like this, I gotta be responsible."

  He withdraws just enough to roll the condom on, and then I feel him grasping my panties and yanking them down. His fingers find me, finally, dipping in just enough to confirm what he already knows.

  Sighing, I arch into his touch, but he pulls away far too soon. A moment later it's replaced with something much better. I gasp, every nerve in my body lighting up as he stretches me open.

  And I feel it.

  Of course, I always feel it. Of course, I've had sex before. I'm not going to be so completely, unapologetically cliché as to claim that he makes me feel like a virgin. Because he doesn't - this is much better.

  I just feel like I've never known what sex was supposed to be like.

  He picks up a rhythm that's steady and slow and deep, at first. It's almost like making love, but it's not. He's too relentless, and too primal. The noises he makes are vibrating straight through me. I've never come like this before, not without some other kind of touch - I've always thought I couldn't. But I can feel it building now, something deep inside me curling with pleasure and building towards a climax that promises to rattle every last inch of me.

  I hear myself moan. "Harder."

  He growls, but he obeys.

  "Faster," I beg.

  I'm so close. I'm not sure if I tell him that or not. I've lost track of what I'm saying out loud, what I'm thinking, and what I'm just feeling. It doesn't really matter. It's all the same, at a moment like this.

  "Not until I tell you," he grits out.

  I can't, I can't hold it back. It's too big, too powerful. But I know I have to, because he said so.

  Josh. Not Landon Steele, not my fantasy, but the real man who, in this moment, really owns my body and my soul.

  "Not yet," he whispers.

  "Please," I moan.

  "Not yet." His fingers grip into my hips so hard it must hurt, but I can't feel it. I can't feel anything except the edge of my orgasm that he won't allow to come to life.

  I don't have any words left. There's nothing I can do except try to hold on.

  His rhythm is growing erratic, and I'm starting to wonder if he's going to let me come at all. I'm sure I'll die if he doesn't.

  Then he says what my whole body's been waiting to hear.

  "Now."

  Everything detonates, and I'm screaming, sobbing with pleasure. My fingers clutch the sheets as the inside of my body clutches him, and nothing matters, nothing. Nothing at all except me and him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It's not until I'm making out with Josh in the shower that I remember my phone's still on the floor, under the nightstand.

  "What's wrong?"

  His voice rumbles through his chest, and I feel it more than I hear it, over the rush of the water.

  I shake my head. "Nothing. I just remembered I never che
cked my phone last night, and Amy was messaging me about something."

  "Probably just congratulating you on a successful con," he says, switching off the water and shaking droplets of water from his hair. "But I can tell this is gonna bother you, so why don't you go check, and we can get back to this later."

  Sighing, I glance down at the part of his body that was so recently pressed up against me, insistently. "I was so sure we were going to have shower sex."

  "Yeah, it's overrated." He smirks. "Water doesn't make a good lube, and you'll always end up hurting yourself. Just go. Don't worry, I'll make up for this later."

  Laughing, I reach for my towel. "Okay. Well, I'll take your word for it. I never had shower sex before."

  "We'll try it another time, if you really want to."

  Something in my chest warms at the idea that he's already thinking about our future, but I'm trying not to get too caught up in it.

  Then, he smacks my ass lightly as I turn to go, and that warms something else entirely.

  It seems to take forever for my phone to turn on. It's normally never off, so I'm not used to how long it takes to find the network again. I flip between the screens idly as I wait for the connection.

  Josh comes out of the bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips. He looks like every single one of my fantasies, and he doesn't need to play a role for that. The remnants of the water drip down his body, tracing every contour and every taut muscle.

  I still can't quite believe this is real, but I know he's going to work hard at making me believe it.

  My phone buzzes in my hand, and I reluctantly drag my eyes away from the view.

  "Fifty messages?" I mutter, mostly to myself. "What the..."

  Every single one of them is from Amy. And when I log into my social media sites, I start seeing a lot more. Every single one of them with the same link.