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

by Jo Raven

I wasn’t sure how he was gonna lace the suspension into the video and us rolling around on the floor, but we were scheduled to wrap up tomorrow, Thursday.

  Our few days together were melting away. We were almost done with ... everything.

  After I made dinner and dessert, we returned to the basement to work on two lifts.

  Being against his body all day, I was dripping with desire, and I totally understood why people referred to Wednesday as hump day. That’s all I wanted to do … but couldn’t indulge. We were winded and sweaty when we were finished, and also sore.

  When satisfied with our effort, he practiced whipping with an old bullwhip. He looked like he was dancing a paso doble, as he sliced through air and cracked the whip to the beat of elegance. He suspended a dummy and showed me different strikes, some where he was practically doing plies as he whipped in a perfect horizontal line and others where he struck diagonally with a harsh flick that made me jolt and wince. He possessed grace and zesty power already. No wonder he rocked the Argentine Tango.

  He grabbed a different whip and pointed to the wall. “Stand over there.”

  “In your strike zone? Are you crazy?”

  “You circled it.”

  “Yeah but...” I teared up. I did not want to bleed. “Are you gonna shred me up?”

  “Hell no. I’d never do that. It’s not what you want. Or what I want. Do you trust me?”

  “Um, kind of.”

  “Move, Shayna. Stand in front of the wall.”

  A buzz filtered down to my core. His demand was pretty hot, but following the request made me a little queasy. But I did it anyway. I walked over to the wall and stood with my back to him.

  “Back up several feet and hold your arms out.”

  “My arms? Seriously?”

  “Just do it,” he said calmly and softly.

  I shook as I held them out a little from each hip.

  “Higher. Even with your shoulders.”

  I shivered and took a deep breath as I complied and lifted my arms, my eyes clenched tight. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

  “I’m always precise, and I wanna show you something really cool. This won’t hurt. I promise. Just don’t move.”

  I screamed when the whip cracked over my right arm with a cool breeze. Momentum carried and coiled it around my arm like a candy cane. It was leather-slappy, wrapping around my extremity, but it didn’t hurt. I laughed in delight.

  He drew close to retrieve the whip and kissed my head. “See?” He did the same over the other arm too. I relaxed for that one. “Can I give you three licks? No brutality, only grace and beauty, an extension of my body to yours. Whips dance in the air and there’s great variance in the art of impact. I’d like to demonstrate.”

  Though shaking with nervousness again, I nodded, wanting to prove my trust. “Um, okay. I’m terrified, but I wanna push myself. Let it rip, Sir.”

  I hadn’t even heard him approach that time. A chill snaked down my back when he placed his hand on my spine. “Arms down, Sunshine.” He peeled off my shirt, tossed it to the floor. I melted and sighed when he unclasped my bra and also sent it to the cement. “You are a goddess.” His fingers tickled me as he gathered all my hair into his fist and set it over my shoulder. Running his touch down my spine, he kissed my head then whispered, “I love this, sharing this with you. It’s so beautiful. You’ll see.”

  He stepped back, taking his warmth from me. Out of reach now, he zipped the whip through the air behind me without even touching my skin. I just felt the breeze of it whizzing by. And then, the tail finally grazed my upper back. It took my breath away but in a good way. The subtle sting it left behind sank into a darker aftertaste. He made me wait and wait for the next one, just whisking air behind me, making me shiver from the wind. Weirdly, I was itching to receive the next one. I sighed when the whip finally brushed across my flesh so softly it felt like a stiff feather. It didn’t hurt at all and quickened my pulse and made me tremble. The last one was the sharpest, but still not unbearable or ugly. I laughed in unexpected ecstasy. It was no worse than drinking hot soup. Burned buds on a tongue felt worse than this. Beautiful indeed. I didn’t hate it like I thought. It was exquisite, breathtaking music. No wonder he liked it. I felt more bonded to him, having taken his delicate ‘whipping’ with grace. I actually cried that he stopped. I wanted more. I yearned to see how many types of hits I could take. But I was afraid to let him continue ’cause each lash would only further cement him as mine when he so totally wasn’t.

  He walked over, bent to fetch my clothes, and slowly redressed me, which made me cry more because it was so tender. He sounded alarmed saying, “Did I hurt you? I aimed to give you three different sensations, but they were the lightest strokes you can get.”

  “No, you didn’t hurt me at all. It was elegant and gorgeous actually.”

  “Why ya crying then?” Once I was fully dressed, her spun me around and clutched my face. “I never wanna hurt you or give you more than you desire.”

  “I know. The problem is, I desire more of you than you’d ever want to give.”

  “More of me.”

  “Yes. I said before that I wanted to be the game changer.”

  “I know. I can’t, sweetie. You deserve someone who’s gonna be all in for you, totally devoted and free to be yours and yours alone, one hundred percent.”

  “I know it’s futile. That’s why I’m crying. Loving you is a total waste.” I slapped my lips, shocked and embarrassed I said that.

  “You … love me?” he muttered, sounding wounded by the notion, as if I’d kicked him in the shin.

  I straightened my shoulders and steeled my eyes at him. “Yes, I love you, you arrogant, brutish asshole. Even though I don’t know you very well, I like what you do to my soul. I like how your breath makes me shiver and that you don’t even have to touch me to make me juice up. I like your presence, not just your body, but the things you think and say, the heaviness of your persona, the strength of your arms. I like that you care, that you don’t want to see me end up in the wrong person’s hands. I even like that you’re cocky. It’s usually a turnoff, but on you, it works and makes me want you more. It’s the story of my life, to be left with nothing, so I’m not surprised to be gouged from your unrequited affections.”

  “Unrequited. Yeah. You are the sexiest girl I’ve ever met and played with.”

  “Right. Well, that doesn’t mean shit in reality, outside of this kinky exchange.”

  He looked down at the floor for a several seconds, then back at me. “I guess. I’m trying to figure out what I feel. That’s why I get in a funk sometimes.”

  “About?”

  “An existence without sunshine. From here, it looks dark and ugly wherever you’re not, but I’m like this well-oiled machine with a system that works for me. I don’t know how you fit into the complexity of my existence and within the depths of my perversion, my random roughness, my ferocious lust, or my job. How exactly does an angel fit with a devil?”

  “I don’t know, but don’t worry, Jason. I’d never ask you to change or give any of your perks, precious comforts, or long line of subs for me. You will be fine. You are an impenetrable rock, after all.”

  He glared at me, clearly no longer an emotionless jackass. Now, he was a total jackass because he found the pain of misery better than my pleasant company.

  Screw you! I waved my hands in frustration. I was so done. This conversation was over! He doesn’t consider me worth it, worth the changes he’d have to make. And that’s that.

  I was determined to perk up my own damn mood by myself. Maybe a dip in his in-ground pool under the moonlight would wash my irritation away. I left him in the basement, changed into a bikini, and grabbed a towel from the hall closet.

  Smelling a backyard fire as I stepped out at sunset, I took a whiff and sighed. I started when I heard Jason behind me. His palm on the small of my back set off fireworks in my soul.

  “Come on,” he said, huskily in my ear and c
ocked his head to the side.

  “What do mean, come on? I’m taking a dip.”

  “I don’t recall you asking. I’ve got other plans for you. Maybe I’ll let you swim later.” He waved his finger for me to follow and climbed a ladder that was propped against the house. Jason waved me up to join him. “Get up here. I wanna show you something.”

  I groaned and followed him to a low pitched section over his bedroom.

  He had a spread with a plaid blanket and flutes of champagne on the chimney.

  I don’t really drink, but wanted to try new things, so I held my fingers out.

  He handed it to me and filled his own glass.

  “Thanks. What is all this?”

  “A celebration?”

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “Us. We rock. We are damn sexy.”

  I laughed. “Man, you can never unhook that damn conceit, can you?”

  “It’s not conceit. It’s knowing the truth. We have a little more to shoot, but we’re on an awesome tear. I didn’t expect to have so much footage to work with. You obliterated my expectations. You’ll make me rich and famous, girl. You’re gonna sell my tunes like nothin’ else.”

  “We do make a great team.”

  “I know. That’s why I wanna give you royalties.”

  “Royalties? But it’s your song.”

  “You made it better by taking my lame-ass storyboards and providing a more sensual versus porny presentation. You removed the eek-factor and made it more palatable for vanillas. You did that. You made BDSM look beautiful like it should.”

  “I’m thrilled for you, Jason. I really do want you to get the notoriety you deserve because you are supremely talented. I feel honored that you think I deserve a piece of your growing pie.”

  “Mmm, pie. Yeah, baby, I’ll give you a piece, if I can get one.”

  I laughed and whacked his arm. “Shut up, Asshole. I’ve been listening to your other albums, any spare chance I get. Excellent stuff. I like the variance and scope.”

  “You really like it?”

  “Very much. It’s addictive.”

  “Ooo, I like that. Um, I gotta confess something to you, Shayna.”

  My stomach dropped. “Um, what?” I scratched my neck, itchy from my own lie, the big one I said to his face. I just didn’t want to leave him. With a ‘safe’ pass, he’ll shove me out the door so fast with a thanks-for-the-bjs card and a smack on the ass, if he’s in the mood. Like he said, we’re almost done shooting. What else do we have? Absolutely nothing. I frowned. “What is it?”

  “I just wanted to say, uh … that you were so right. You, um, did inspire my song. You did, not random subbies or BDSM in general. I was embarrassed to admit it, but it’s the honest-to-God truth. That’s crazy when I didn’t even know you. I didn’t realize that you were my muse, but I wrote four songs that weekend, shredding up the room with the rush of creativity your prissy attitude and dry cunt inspired. I was totally wrong about both.”

  “Glad to be of service. Are you trying to turn me on with all this smack talk, because ...”

  He clasped my jaw and silenced me with a strong, owning kiss. He drove his tongue in deep and slid his hand around to the base of my neck to pull me closer. “Does that erase my idiocy?”

  “For now.” I went back for more, but he pressed against me, holding me back.

  “I didn’t bring you up here to dig into your bikini bottoms. If I wanted that, they’d already be torn off and stuffed into your mouth.”

  “Ooo, Jason, love your dirty talk. Rain check please. I totally want my mouth stuffed with my panties. Hot.” I resumed kissing his neck and running my fingers over his shirt, going from nipple to nipple.

  He laughed. “You are such a bad girl and so surprising at every turn.” When I drew a line with my wet tongue up to his ear his words began to break. “Um, I just … I wanted to talk, and share some nice conversation with you.”

  “We are talking. This is very important to say.” Still kissing, I massaged the bulge in his jeans, softly at first, then got grabbier and unzipped him.

  He slapped my hand and pushed me off. “Shayna. Stay on your side of the blanket. Now. I distinctly remember telling you that I call the shots.”

  “You’re right. Sorry. Okay, sure, Sir. Let’s chat.” I sat Indian style and waited.

  I sneered, watching him zip back up. “Brat. A little too frisky for your own good.”

  “Hmm, gonna punish me?”

  “Yes. As soon as we’re done conversing like I damn want to.”

  “Are you gonna spank me out here?” I cried. I did not want a punishment outdoors where the neighbors could hear! No way! But inside? Hell yeah.

  “Who said anything about a spanking? There’s a plethora of other ways to make you pay up.”

  “Oh. Right.” I pouted in disappointment.

  “Freak.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I giggled and swigged my entire flute of champagne. I coughed at the flash burn in my throat and the tingle in my cunt. What the hell.

  He grabbed the glass from me. “Take it easy. It should be savored, not gulped down like a shot.”

  “Like a shot of semen?”

  He puffed out breath in amusement. “Uh, you filthy bitch,” he teased. “Lift that ass.”

  I raised my butt and wiggled polka dots at him, expecting a playful whack.

  He smacked it hard, catching mostly flesh.

  “Ow,” I laughed. Crap!” I sat my bottom down.

  “I’m tired of you being naughty. I wanna talk. Just talk. Like, you don’t even know that I love the night sky or the sunset. I like watching the sun slink away under the weight of the dominant blue.”

  I was confused as to why he was talking about the damn sky, but I could see why he was such a fabulous musician, so I didn’t mind. He could talk about earthworms for all I cared. I liked that he was passionate about whatever he uttered. He doesn’t do empty chitchat and always seemed to be making a point, sometimes an annoying point, but a point nonetheless. In just a few days, I’ve learned a lot from him, about myself, men, life, BDSM and love. I looked up to see the same magic he saw.

  “The sky, in addition to music, was my escape as a kid. I’d make up stories for the twinlets about rocket adventures, fighting aliens, pranking angels, and discovering new worlds.”

  “You would prank an angel.”

  “Only to catch her off guard so I could slide off her panties and dive into her snatch.”

  I scoffed. “God, you are so disgusting.” My chiding made him laugh. “I’m an only child. No cousins either.”

  “Sad. My sisters and I are close. Can’t imagine life without them. Kate’s daughter Lily is my super picker-upper. She’s five and a little firecracker.”

  “So cute. Bet you’re a great uncle. You want kids ever?”

  “Someday. When my life and flogger whirls slow down. She changed my mind and convinced me I wouldn’t end up like that monster.”

  “You’re no monster.”

  “I know. I was afraid for a long time that I’d end up like that prick. Playing with my subs, I saw that I wasn’t doomed to that fate. I had invites to get vicious, and it wasn’t even tempting. Lily made me much a cuddlier person.”

  “I’m so glad. Bonus!”

  “Curious, how was your childhood, Pet? What’d you do to decompress?”

  “Well, I didn’t have your kind of stress, so even though I hated my life, wouldn’t wanna trade. My turmoil seems silly by comparison. The pain I had to squelch most was that people hated me, everywhere, for some reason or another.” I teared and chocked up. “I had no real friends in the trailer park where I grew up. We had one of the only double-wides, so we were, laughably, considered rich and snobby. Being kind of quiet like I am, people often assumed, and still assume, that I’m stuck-up. I just have to get to know people first before I’m comfortable opening up, that’s all. The three boys my age totally ignored me. Only a three-year-old girl hung out with me. School
wasn’t any better. I went to public school until fifth. I was always small, which made me a ripe target for bullies. I got so tired of getting verbally, and sometimes physically, kicked every day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I begged my mom to let me homeschool. Shortly after I left, I was inspired by Singing in the Rain, and entered a county fair talent show and danced my heart out, winning first place and a life-long scholarship to Maryanne’s Dance Academy. I don’t even know where I’d be without dance. I took jazz and ballet and found my home in movement. Whenever I got stressed, I let myself dissolve and recharge in dance. It was my lifeline. I’d never felt so alive, so present, so tangible, as when I was started gliding across a floor, learning steps, and letting a song speak to my soul. Getting to be passionate about something and striving to be excellent at it gave me confidence and joy. I pour my heart out when I dance. I breathe. Well, I’m sure that’s what happens to you when you compose or play. Artistic expression and passion just stream out. That’s what my park outreach program is, was, about.”

  “What. What do you mean?”

  “It’s unfairly getting pegged as something religious and getting shut down ’cause my team is from my church, but it’s not really a churchy thing per se, it’s a kids-in-the-arts thing. It’s to give kids who might not have positive role models a spark, you know, that spark inside that gives them a dream, something to aspire to, something that shows them they’re special and amazing and that people do love them. I found out today when we broke for lunch that my last event of the season for next Sunday has also been stuffed. So, I’m bummed about that. Not to mention ticked off. It’s so not fair, especially for them.”

  He stroked the skin under his lip with his index finger and thumb, pulling them together again and again. He said, “Fuck,” under his breath.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t like my escape in dance or my park plan?”

  “No, it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. I’m so sorry … sorry for ever calling you prissy or pinning that false tag on your persona. You’re not at all. You’re really a unique flower, Shayna Davenport. You just carry yourself like a princess and I misread that entirely.”

  “Not because I think I’m better than others. I’m just glad for how far I’ve come. I jerked my self-esteem out of the gutter and told it to get a life and thrive with bright colors. Addison and I have helped each other a lot. We’ve both felt worthless and like nothing. Although it hurts like a dagger in the gut to talk about never having had a real friend until I was deep into ballet or never getting asked to prom by some townie, heck, never even getting asked to skate, I no longer feel like some pitiful, unlovable slug. Now, I feel, victorious and free, and, thanks to you, Jason, sexy-as-fuck. I’ve never felt sexy ever, or even that pretty to be honest, so thank you. I’m still in the process of charting my course in submission, and life in general, and discovering what my real boundaries are, and that’s been fun. Although you piss me off, a lot, being with you has been the most illuminating and amazing thing to happen in my life.”