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

by Jo Raven

  “J.D. puts up with that? Some sassy spitfire attitude? I’d have you over my knee, crying your heart out in a split second.”

  My face flushed. “Oh, he’s punished me.”

  He laughed. “Good. You had me worried. I’d have to bash him upside the head for goin’ slack. Your shyness is a drawing trait. Maybe you own him and he lets you win sometimes. I’m kinda shy too. And super analytical. And methodical. Some subs mistake my quiet demeanor for soft, but that’s a foolish notion, they soon learn, once I send thunder to their asses.”

  “Sounds hot … and firm. I like a no-nonsense man. No, I don’t own him. I don’t think anyone owns Jason, outside of brief moments. And trust me, he doesn’t let me get away with anything.”

  “Good.” He waved his finger at me. “Come here, sweet thing?”

  I obeyed. Taking my hand, he walked me to the center of the room.

  “Gotta check the lighting.” He pulled away and looked in a camera. “Move around the space a bit.”

  I set my stuff in the corner and danced barefoot. He adjusted the tilt of the spotlights. I kept lightly dancing around the floor, even when he nodded that that was good enough, and then jogged a bit, so I could warm up for my splits and turnout stretches.

  “Perfect. You look like an angel. Just making sure there aren’t any harsh shadows on your face. That’s the most important thing to capture. This is the first BDSM-themed video we’ve done. We typically use locations, so I’m thinking this is mostly about the romantic connection.”

  I stopped. “We are not romantic!”

  He laughed and scratched his neck, taking a deeper look at me. “I was talkin’ about the song, darlin’, the video concept.”

  I blushed and rubbed my hot cheek and resumed dancing. “Oh, of course. I just wanted to stress that I’m free and unclaimed.”

  “Free for dinner tonight?”

  “Definitely.” I nodded, though I felt naughty for saying that. Screw you, Jason.

  My nerves crackled as I waited for my not-Sir. I had no clue what being tied up so restrictively was gonna feel like. Most likely uncomfortable and stifling. When Jason finally arrived, I was on the floor doing ankle circles. My heart skipped a beat.

  He sat on a chair and watched me for several minutes.

  I slid from a butterfly to a middle split, down into a frog on my stomach, feet together just under my butt. I liked the way his lips parted, allowing huffs to hiss out. I arched a few times, stretching my back and torso. After lifting my knees a few times on each side, I pressed up on my arms and fluidly slid my legs back around to straight out in front of me. When I finished, I put on my toe pads and shoes.

  “How are the knees?” he asked, walking up to me.

  “Scabby, but they don’t hurt anymore.” The Band-Aids were off now, and I’d layered cover-up and powder on them.

  He shook his head, clutching my calf. “Not bad. No one’ll notice.”

  While he and Jeff discussed which rig to capture first, my stomach started knotting up. They decided to shoot three if I could handle it. Oh, I am going to handle it. No way am I wimping out. I wanted to prove my grit and strength, as well as my sub-worth.

  “Film the tying too, Jeff. I may use bits of that.” Red rope in his hand, Jason stood under a ring and waved me over. “The bold color’ll contrast nicely against your milky skin and showcase the artistry of my knots. For this, you’ll be reclining in air, knees bent, thighs apart, arms tied behind your back. The weight bearing’s in your upper back and hips, so it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable, especially for a flexigirl like you. ”

  “Nice. Like I’m stuck wide open for all your dirtiest desires with absolutely nothing in the way of my juicy, crudely presented cunt?”

  “Shit. This one’s a keeper.” Jeff said. “I like the way she thinks.”

  Jason diabolical grin backed him up, but I could tell that was the most I was gonna get. “I guess. She is a smart little cookie.” He rubbed my head.

  I steamed up at his patronization.

  He seemed mad and intense as he began wrapping rope around my back for his first tie.

  The red vines smelled wonderful and helped to ease my tension. “Scented ropes? Feel like I’m in the tropics.”

  “It’s coconut-scented jojoba oil,” Jason snapped, like he was annoyed that I had the audacity to interrupt his nirvana.

  What the hell. Chill out. “I expected the rope to be scratchy, but it’s soft.”

  “Unless you have discomfort or pinching anywhere, stop talking. You’re killing my buzz.”

  Fine, I thought but didn’t dare say it. He’d probably yank my panties down right after this and spank me in front of Jeff.

  When he had my back in a teardrop sling that was loose over my chest and the rope secured to a ring, he added a wrap around my hip. It came down at an angle between my legs then came around and circled my upper thigh. He did a repeated pass, and then mirrored that same wrap on the other side. Though he was focused and quiet while tying, I was eased by his methods, his hands, his adeptness. His fingers gliding along my skin in such intimate areas had me shivering. I loved the way the rope felt—tight, yet not digging in or pinching. He had me slide back into a seated position, spread eagle. He drew me towards his torso, then he hoisted me off the ground. When I was secure, he bent my calves back under my spread thighs and fixed them in place in a bent position with more leg wraps and knots.

  As I hovered in this extremely sexual pose, a burn ran down my chest and blazed through my core. The crotch of my panties got damp.

  He walked around me, never taking his comforting hands off my trapped body. While behind me, tying my wrists to my ankles, I swear he was imprinting himself on my soul with every warm graze of his fingers or pass of the rope. I loved the feeling of being his captive, unable to move, swaddled, held, protected, displayed. He could do anything to me right now, stuff me with toys, dine on my bits, flog my labia. Being hyper-aware of my vulnerability and entrapment turned me on like nothing else. Weird. Why was this so exciting? I expected to hate it and find it boring.

  “You look damn sexy, Pet, stuck as my puppet and prize.”

  Loving that, I shivered.

  After checking his rope work, he faced me again. He was studying me, watching my face, and I was embarrassed to think what my expression revealed with elation and lust so at the surface that huffs were piggybacking on my exhales.

  His hands, his soft nose breaths, and his verbal silence turned me into his personal ball of clay to mold into whatever he desired. “You like being bound, Shayna? Being trapped?”

  I shook my head no, and he seized my cheeks and fish-puckered my lips.

  Jeff rolled the dolly in to get a close-up and a different angle of my face in Jason’s vicing mitt.

  “Liar. Don’t you dare lie to me! I can see it. Tell me the truth.”

  “I like it. Not sure why exactly, but I do.”

  “I know you do.”

  This, what he did to me, was like the most sensual art in the world. He composed music with my body. He choreographed with ropes, with his hands, with beautifully placed wraps and knots. He’d lent me a sense of security that oddly warred with a niggle of peril. He launched me to this headspace where I had to and did entirely trust him. He charred my soul with his iron branding, “MINE. You are mine,” without ever saying the words.

  Jason kissed my lips for the camera I think, and I soon found myself not only kissing him back but getting lost in his wet paradise. He slid his tongue in deep while fixing his leather-clad pelvis between my spread legs with a rough grind. It turned me into an inferno. His hands roamed around my bound back and traveled down. He pinched my ass by the crack and released my mouth at that moment. His glare said I didn’t give him the reaction he craved, with my moan sounding like I’d found rapture and hilarity. I had. I was slick and happy for anything.

  He wanted me to be certain he knew of my dewy predicament, his thumb lightly tracing the trim on my panties. He slid
in at the side for just a second, swiping down the middle. “You’re a rope bunny, Shayna. I can see it on your face, feel that truth emitting from your whole being. This is a surprise to us both. I can’t wait to show you how sweet your face looks in the footage. You like being tied up as much as I like to bind. I can feel the heat surging through your blood, the passion in your kiss. You love being my temporary victim, my slave, my bound slut. Right?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I love it.”

  After groping me and kissing my hair from behind for the shot, he released me from that rig. I was kinda sad, even though more were on the way. Although I was only up for about three minutes, pink grooves marked me and a squeeze-feeling lingered like a poltergeist haunting.

  He lifted extremities, inspecting my wrists and thighs. “Circulation looks fine. No ligature marks. Tingling or sore anywhere?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He let me rest for fifteen minutes and looked over the footage. He came back. “Got a sports bra or something better for your tits? I don’t wanna worry about it poking you in the next tie. I usually prefer nudity, that’s best, but we want PG-13 here. A cute ballet skirt might be workable too. Bring some of your other hot shit down.”

  “Sure. I’ll change my ‘tit’ attire, Sir.” It shocked me that suspension totally turned me on.

  When I returned in a ruffle skirt and sports bra, it widened both their eyes. That stamp of approval gave me a jolt of confidence. I was ready to fly again.

  He bound me in a dancer’s pose next with my back fully arched and legs in a split like I was leaping in air, which was amazing, having my passion for dance mixed in with my new lust for rope. He tied my arms to my extended leg and set a knot right at my clit. Whenever I took a deep breath, it rubbed me like a thumb. Crap. I could come this way. Aware of my predicament, he whispered a warning not to come in my ear. He did so much intricacy only to keep me up for a one-fingered leg caress and a soft, lingering kiss on my temple as he cradled my face with a splay of fingers. I was disappointed for such short time in suspended gracefulness and extreme flexibility but thankful I didn’t fail him by coming.

  Next, I looked like I was diving under the surf and getting frozen in place just as I curled to snatch seaweed on an ocean floor. That made me feel weightless, especially when he pulled ends and had me swaying as a symbol of him molding me to his will. He tugged me up until I was high enough for him to kiss my lips.

  When we finished, Jeff left to enjoy the rest of his day and Jason wrapped me in a blanket and held me on the couch while feeding me orange and banana. I was in the last rigging for maybe five minutes because of the movement to capture, and it had been the most constricting of all. Rope indentations and ligature marks now uglified my flesh.

  He told me not to massage them, to just let them be. Running fingers over the grooves, he said, “So pretty, especially the knotty ones on your thighs. They’re like temporary tattoos of my touch.”

  Aaah, I loved that. When he put it that way, they transformed into beauty marks before my eyes. Other than saying that, he was quiet and steely. What the heck was his problem?

  His silence aside, I loved the aftercare, especially him fondling my breasts under the blanket and nibbling my earlobe and neck as he lay behind me on the couch.

  I enjoyed it too much. I really needed to escape him for a while. He consumed my thoughts. His pointless draw on me was just too strong, and I didn’t know what to do with it or how to squelch it. I still felt his hands and mouth all over me as I showered for my date. His touch flitted over me like tangible whispers in the dark.

  I rushed out the door as soon as a motorcycle growled up the driveway. I didn’t expect to be going on Jeff’s bike and my tummy flipped at the cherry popping I was about to get. I was all about new experiences now though, so I sort of couldn’t wait to ride.

  “Hi, darlin’. You look hot.”

  “Thanks. Thanks for asking me out.” I smiled, striding up to him.

  He winked and handed me a helmet.

  I put it on and shook as I slid around his body. “I’m ready for adventure. Let’s hit it.” I laced my fingers over his perfectly imperfect abs that were more marshmallow than rock. I found comfort in the fact that he wasn’t torn right out of a fitness magazine. I clenched my eyes and pressed my cheek into his shoulder blades when he took off, but it wasn’t that bad and I quickly settled in and howled into the wind. Riding was electrifying and fun. I felt badass.

  He brought me to a posh restaurant with a waterfall garden in the center. We walked in severely under-dressed in our casual shirts and jeans, and not surprisingly, got seated in a dark corner as if we were a scourge polluting the ambiance.

  I said, “A fish and chips place would’ve been fine, if you like seafood I mean.”

  “Love it. But a classy lady like you deserves the moon, gourmet food, lollipops, and so much more.”

  “Lollipops? Kind of weird.”

  “Wouldn’t be if you knew me better.”

  “Ooo, nice. I like when people are like onions that I can discover more about with each peeled layer. We’re just not dressed as nicely as everyone else. Don’t you feel outta place?”

  “I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. Do you?”

  “Yeah, more than I like to admit. But I’m hoping to overcome that.”

  “Good. You should only care about pleasing yourself … and your Dom once you land one. If you compromise on little things due to fear, especially of outside opinion, then you won’t chase after the big things you want.”

  “You’re so right … Jeff.” It felt weird to call him that, but it was even weirder I had no qualms about calling Jason, Asshole. It was kind of a term of endearment. “You are kind of quiet, compared to other Doms I’ve met. Not that I mind. When did you know you were a Dom?”

  “When I did the dirty at sixteen. We were both virgins. At first, I was telling her what to do ’cause she was nervous. I didn’t know much more, but I liked the faith she had in me to steer her right and bring pleasure to both of us. I liked … owning her, having the ultimate say in what we did. I liked how my voice alone made her shiver, especially the more demanding I got. Thinking back, I’m sure she’s a sub. Hope she knows it and isn’t living empty now.”

  “Yeah. That’s how I’ve been feeling. Empty. I dated a guy in the spring, not dominant at all, and I knew I was missing something huge. I realized I needed to get to know my true self before I could even think about or plan a future with anyone, I just wasn’t sure how to go about doing that. Jason has given me an opportunity for me to explore my submission.”

  “I like that you’re trying to discover your heart’s cry. Not to mention your cunt’s.”

  I gasped. His crassness drew looks. You know what? Screw them! I don’t even know these people. Why do I even care what they think? I was having a nice time with someone other than Jason. I gritted my teeth and focused on him more eagerly.

  “You and Jason. About that. I don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes here.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s fine. This is fine. Jason doesn’t own me.”

  He was studying me, boring in, digging for truth I didn’t care to share or acknowledge. “Maybe not in word, but what about at the core of your being?”

  I steamed up, not liking the direction of this conversation. “I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t be here if I felt like he owned me.”

  “You might be if you were running, trying to deny your true feelings.”

  I shook my head. “No, there’s no truth to deny. You were nice today and I wanted to go out with you. That’s it. Why are you psychoanalyzing me and my decision? Can’t we just eat? And talk about anything else besides Jason?”

  “It’s just … I’ve never seen him like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, all quiet and sort of pissy.”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s always an ass.”

  “That’s what I mean. I’ve never seen
him like that.”

  “Maybe you’ve never seen him with someone he hates.”

  “Or gets under his skin.”

  “Hardly.” As much as I’d like that. I was sneering when the waitress came over to greet us and ask us what we wanted for drinks. When she left I said, “Doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. We’d never work out. He knows it. I know it. We’re too different and all wrong for each other.”

  “Okay. Let’s say we have fun and you find some sliver of attraction in that pretty little head for me.”

  “I am attracted to you. I find you very intriguing.”

  “Fine. You’re hot for me. So, let’s say I wanna ride that silk train and maul you on his front steps. If I did that, would it make you feel guilty? Would it jab like a betrayal of sorts? Would you be terrified and/or thrilled he’d see and get upset or jealous?”

  I cringed. “Um, maybe. But that’s only because he’s the first Dom I’ve had a connection with or been intimate with.”

  “You’ve been intimate? How intimate?”

  “Quite. But he hasn’t … penetrated me.”

  “But he’s glossed and pinked you up plenty I’ll bet. You already said he punished you.”

  Heat rushed to my face, not at the words, at the not-forgotten rush of having Jason’s head between my thighs. I squeezed my legs together and bit the inside of my lip to try to kill the tingle of arousal. “A little. But you already know we’re exchanging favors. We’re not, like, together, or a couple in any way.”

  “Look, darlin’, I can’t do this then. The bro code and all.”

  “But I am not his though. I’m not. I’m free to do what I want, see who I want.” Crap. We were done. I could see it in his face. I huffed, knowing our date was over and that Jason had screwed me over without even screwing me. I rubbed my neck.

  Jeff leaned forward with his hands balled up. “If there’s even the slightest possibility that I’m pissing him off right now by taking out his unclaimed subbie, I have to do the honorable thing and leave you entirely uncorrupted, free from all my manly and Domish fingerprints.”