Alpha (Alpha 1)

“You’re teasing me, Kyrie. Testing me.” He glared at me, head tilted down, jaw hard, looking primal and dangerous. “It’s not smart.”

I lifted one knee, and the sheet fell away; Roth growled. I ran my middle finger up the seam of my core. Roth’s growl turned feral.

“Last warning, Kyrie.”

I didn’t need the warning. He was a man on the edge. I was playing with fire, and I knew it. But I was aching. Unsatisfied. For all that I’d come hard last night…three times? Four?…I was unsatisfied. I’d made do with my own fingers and battery-operated toys for a long time before Roth sent for me, and it just didn’t do the trick. I could get off, but that wasn’t enough. Merely achieving orgasm wasn’t enough. Even with Roth’s hands and fingers making me come, it wasn’t enough. I needed the connection. I needed to be filled. Held. Touched. Wanted. Loved.

And Roth knew it.

I still ached, deep inside where his tongue and fingers couldn’t reach. An ache that no amount of skillful cunnilingus could sate. I needed the man. Especially now that I’d seen his face, seen the heated glare in his eyes, seen the slight tremble of need in his hands.

I dipped my finger inside me, withdrew it.

“Fuck.” Roth’s curse was an angry rumble. He straightened, let go of the doorframe, and then, faster than my eyes could track, he was lunging forward, crawling across the bed. Hovering over me. Eyes inches from mine. “Don’t f**k with me, Kyrie. If you want to do this right now, we’ll do it right now. I’m barely holding back. The fact that I have an enormous amount of self-control is all that’s protecting you from your own foolishness.”

“Foolishness?” I breathed. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

“What? Games? Teasing? No. I want honesty. I want your desire, and I want to know what you’re thinking. What I don’t want is power-play games.” He grabbed my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head. “You want to know the power you have over me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then ask me a question. Anything.”

“What is your first name?”

His eyes went hard. “Valentine. My name is Valentine.”

“Valentine Roth.” It fit him so perfectly.

“Yes.” His grip on my wrists was tight, iron-hard, and almost painful. His knees were between my thighs, forcing them apart. “Now. What else?”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-six.”

Ten years older than me. Should I be worried about that? I knew, instinctively, that I didn’t give a shit how old he was. I just wanted to know if he’d tell me.

He was breathing hard, as if revealing so much about himself was physically difficult, even painful. I saw actual pain in his eyes, perhaps even fear. As if he’d exposed himself to me and was now waiting for the repercussions.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice small and quiet.

“For what?” He seemed honestly confused.

“Letting me see you. Telling me your name.” I think he expected me to struggle against his hold on my wrists, but I didn’t.

Instead, I lifted up and kissed him, sucked his lower lip between my teeth. I devoured his leonine rumble of surprise and pleasure and kept kissing him. His tongue slid between my teeth, his weight lowered so our bodies touched, and I felt his jeans rough against my skin, felt the bulge behind his zipper scraping on my lower belly.

“I want you, Valentine.” I flicked my eyes open and met his own. “Make love to me. Touch me. Come inside me. Do anything you want.” I couldn’t resist my desire anymore.

I didn’t know what this meant, where it was going, but I didn’t care. This was the last vestige of my control over my own life, over myself, and I’d just given it to him.

“Anything I want?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to offer a man like me.”

“I know.”

“And still you offer it?”

I nodded, not taking my eyes off his. “I do. Make love to me, your way.” I was shaking all over, nervous, scared, excited.

Being Roth, he did the last thing I expected. He pulled away, slid off the bed. “Then I choose to wait. I will have you, Kyrie, and I will have you soon. But not here. Not now. I want you in my bed. I’m going to make you scream, and weep, and beg me for me. And I’m going to do it where no one has ever been: my bed.”

I watched him back away yet again, jeans strained from the erection behind his zipper. This time, I didn’t let him get away. I followed him, scooting off the bed and catching him by the belt loops before he got too far. “I like the sound of that.” I looked up at him. “But I want to see…this. I want to feel you first.” I tugged at the button of his jeans.

His eyes met mine, and he nodded. “As you wish.”

I lowered his zipper, then pulled his jeans down around his thighs. I breathed in, let it out. I tore my gaze from his and curled my fingers under the pale gray elastic waistband of his boxer-briefs. Hesitated. And then I tugged the elastic away from his body and pulled his underwear down, baring him to me.

I knew he was big. Of course he’d be big. But…holy shit on a shingle. I didn’t expect him to be that big. His c**k was long and standing straight up, the tip rising past his navel. So thick. He was so hard it looked painful, his balls tight against him. He’d stretch me, that was for sure. For now, though, all I wanted was to feel him in my hands, to make him come, to give him relief.

I wrapped one hand around him, and he was so thick my thumb and middle finger couldn’t meet around his girth. Jesus. Sweet baby Jesus. I slid my fist down his length and back up, my hand barely brushing his flesh. He breathed out through his nose, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. I cupped my other hand around his taut sac, sliding my fist down and twisting gently, watching his expression as I touched him. He licked his lips and blinked several times, breathing hard, eyes fixed on me.

“Don’t start what you won’t finish, Kyrie.”

I let my lips curve up in a grin. “I would never do that, Valentine.”

His brows lowered, jaw squaring as he clenched his teeth. As gently as I could, I squeezed his balls, a caressing pressure. Slid my middle finger onto his taint and applied pressure. He rumbled in his chest, fists clenched at his sides. I kept my eyes locked on his as I stroked his considerable length ever so slowly, then leaned in, closer, closer, opened my mouth as wide as it would go. Curled my lips in over my teeth and took his broad head into my mouth. I closed my lips around him, just beneath the groove at the base of his tip. He made a sound that was suspiciously close to a moan as I lowered my mouth around him, still stroking slowly at the root of his cock. I could only take a few inches of him before I felt him at the back of my throat, and then I drew away. I let my saliva coat his flesh, returning my gaze to his as I rubbed my palm over his head, smearing my spit over him, making him slick and slippery. I fisted his length, replacing my lips around his thick, soft, springy head, tasting pre-come on my tongue. I drew off again, licked the pre-come away with a fat swipe of my tongue, twisting and plunging my fist around him, squeezing his sac in time with my sliding fist, pressing up against his taint.