Owned: An Alpha Anthology (25 page)

Waving his hand at the door, he growled, "Go. If you’re too much of a fucking princess to sleep with a guy who is good with his hands, then go. I won’t stop you. It’s you who’ll regret walking away, though. Not me. I don’t look back. Ever."

The animosity washing off him both thrilled and terrified. Beneath the strength and cocky confidence existed fractured morals and a broken sense of self-worth.

The flash of vulnerability—just like in the corridor—lashed me to the spot. I couldn’t leave. But I also couldn’t sleep with him. He’d already taken more than just my sex drive. If I let him use me, give me the pleasure I knew I’d feel, I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to forget.

I wasn’t very good at forgetting. Hell, even now I still held onto the blind belief that my parents had made it out of the fire somehow. Their remains hadn’t been found—I had no closure. Hope was a never dying enemy sitting painfully on my heart.

"I’m not leaving," I whispered.

You’re not? But you just…

I shut my internal voice up. I’d come here with one goal. I wouldn’t back down.
I’m not a coward.
I wanted him. I wanted to live with no regrets.

"I won’t ask any more questions, and I’ll leave when we’re done. We’ll both walk away from this as we began."

"What does that mean?" Cas asked, his voice dark.

"It means we’ll stay strangers. We’ll fuck as strangers. We’ll part as strangers. That’s what you want, isn’t it?"

My heart poised mid-beat, hanging onto a small thread of hope. It smashed to dust as he nodded. "Yes. That’s what I want."

"Good." Breaking eye contact, I turned for the phone on the desk.

Running my hands through my blonde hair, I cursed the appearance that’d landed me into this mess. The lingerie was one culprit, but I’d also lavished attention on my other attributes. I’d splashed out a small fortune to have golden low-lights and ash highlights put in my hair before the audition. I’d learned how to tame the thickness into soft curls—so much nicer than my mousey blonde straightness from before.

I should’ve thought of the consequences of looking confident when in reality I still nursed the orphaned sixteen-year-old.

Picking up the phone, I dialled one for reception.

Cas smiled, leaning back and spreading his legs on the bed again. His confident pose could be taken either as a lewd gesture or overtly sexual. I tried to ignore him but that was as impossible as ignoring an asteroid plummeting to earth.

"Reception. How may I help you?"

Cas’s eyes took full advantage, latching onto my breasts. The way he ogled made the expensive underwear between my legs grow shamefully damp.

"Hello, Mr. Smith. Are you there?" the chirpy female voice prompted in my ear.

Mr. Smith?

Ah, yes. The stranger I’d agreed to sleep with.

Tearing my eyes off him, I said, "Yes, hi. I seem to have locked myself out of my room during the fire alarm. I need another key."

"Oh, I’m sorry, this isn’t Mr. Smith?"

"Do I sound like I’m a man?" My heart fluttered. "Sorry, that came out a bit rude."

The receptionist giggled. "No, ma’am, you don’t. Sorry for the mix-up. Do you mind advising me of your room number, so I can confirm the necessary details?"

I hooked my hand over the mouthpiece. For some reason I didn’t like the thought of spilling my privacy—now that we’d established the ‘rules’, it seemed like an invasion—not to me but for
him
to listen.

"Ma’am? Who is the room registered to?"

There was no way around it. "The room is under Lucy Larson."

The gentle sound of sheets rustling behind me made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Was he wondering why I’d given him one name but used another? Too bad. He’d lost the right to ask questions when he decided he wanted to remain clueless.

The tap-tap-tapping of computer keys came down the phone. "I’m sorry, ma’am, there is no room under that name. Is there another name perhaps?"

I slouched in the chair. They must’ve amended the guest name after the problem with my inability to provide identification.

I looked over my shoulder at Cas. He sat upright, curiosity blazing in his eyes. He didn’t hide that he was listening.

"Ma’am? Perhaps you can come down to the lobby to confirm the correct details?"

"No, that’s not possible."

There was a pause. "Um, well, we really need to confirm your identity before we can approve a new key. Are you sure you can’t come—"

"The room might be under Saffron Duncan."

A soft shuffle from the bed as Cas shifted to the edge. His jaw clenched, eyes dark.

Every thought shot from my head. Damn him for being so distracting.

"And the room number?"

"1346."

I couldn’t concentrate—completely obsessed by the seething sensuality of the man behind me.

I glared at Cas, who was now perched on the end of the bed, his fingers steepled in front of his lips, blue eyes narrowed and sharp.

What was his issue?

"Look, can you just send housekeeping or something with a spare?"

Silence for a moment before the woman said, "I’m afraid our housekeepers are dealing with another issue. We’ll have another key coded the minute the problems have been fixed."

"Problems?"

My heart skipped, thinking my credit card had declined or something dreadful had happened. What if she saw through my façade and was about to say I would be kicked out on the street in ten minutes?

Cas inched closer, invading my personal space with his intensity. 

"Our computers are down due to the electricity short that set off the fire alarm. I won’t be able to use the software to key your card until it’s up and running again."

I sighed heavily, looking over at Cas. His eyes were hooded, never rising from my scantily dressed hips.

"How long?" I whispered.

"I’ll call you the moment it’s complete. In the meantime, I’ll send up some complimentary champagne and some desserts, to apologise for the inconvenience. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do."

She hung up before I could tell her exactly what I thought of the inconvenience.

Cas frowned as I put the phone back on its cradle. "What’s going on?"

"Apparently you’ve scored some champagne and desserts, while I have to intrude on your hospitality for an indefinite period of time due to the hotel’s technology being non-operational."

He chuckled. "It seems you wouldn’t be able to leave even if you had second thoughts. I call that fate."

"It’s not fate," I hissed.

He tilted his head. "Ah, yes. You don’t like that word. Call it divine intervention, then. The universe planted you in my path and kept you at my mercy because it wants us to fuck. It’s meant to be."

Holy God, every word lashed me with delectable torture. "What if they still haven’t given me a key by the morning? Won’t that mean I’m intruding on your life? Crossing boundaries you don’t want crossed?"

He shook his head, plucking me from the chair with possessive hands. "No, Lace. It just means I get to fuck you tomorrow as well." Pressing his forehead against mine, he growled, "Now get on the bed. I’m hungry to find out just what those useless pieces of lace are hiding."

I tottered on my tiptoes as he guided me the short distance to the mattress. Every inch I travelled, nerves thickened my blood. "Wait—um, don’t you have something important tomorrow? Are you working?"

Working?

He fights for a living.

His lips twisted into a coy grin. "Yes, I am
working
tomorrow." He shrugged. "I’ve fought on worse circumstances. Besides, nothing a can of Red Bull won’t fix."

His head lowered, his teeth nipping at my throat. "Fuck, I’ve been hard since I saw that asshole talking to you. I’m in serious pain, Lace. I’m looking to you to save me."

Save him?

Why did I get the feeling he hid so much behind his bottomless blue eyes? So much unsaid—to anyone?

His tongue licked where his teeth had bit, sending a wash of sensitivity to my core. I swallowed, hating the power his voice had over me, but loving it, too. My insides turned into a billowing volcano, erupting with steam and washes of hot lava.

"What do you want me to do?"

He shuddered, pulling me close. "Whatever you want to do to me."

The innuendoes in that one sentence sent the room rippling with sexual tension. I wasn’t equipped to play these games.

He pulled back, lips parting. The damn robe spread even further, not just between his legs but his torso, too—showing a very well defined chest with splatterings of dark hair and muscles etched in shadow.

My heart stuttered. I should run. I should stay. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to jump him.

His fingers whispered across my cheek, drugging me better than any other substance. "I want to own every inch of you."

His mouth crashed against mine.

My God, what’s happening to me?

My lips swelled beneath his, aching to be devoured. His tongue pressed hard and fast, massaging with slippery heat. Gone was the taste of watermelon, replaced with pure lust.

I melted in his arms, giving in completely. I wanted him naked.
I
wanted to be naked. I wanted to revel in being naughty just once.

Grabbing his gaping dressing gown, I panted, "Fuck me, Cas Smith. Throw me on the bed and—"

The door knocked, dispersing the magic weaving between us, slamming me back to reality.

FORBIDDEN FLAWS BY PEPPER WINTERS

4

I LOCKED MYSELF in the bathroom.

A mirror image of my hotel room, the space was completely untouched save for the body wash bottle left on the rim of the over bath shower.

Cas chuckled through the door. "If you’re running from me, you know you can’t hide—
especially
after saying ‘fuck me, Cas’."

Why do I let him speak to me like that?

And why do I secretly love it?

I panted, grateful for some space before I combusted. Every inch of me burned. "I’m not afraid of you," I whispered under my breath, staring at myself in the mirror. Oh, God. I looked like I’d been kissed within an inch of sanity—my expression was completely glazed with lust.

Saff, you look demented.

And wild.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I wished I still wore the makeup the movie producers had put on me. The fine micro minerals that made my cheekbones look like sculptured blades, the soft as silk foundation that made my skin glow like honey, and the pouty pink lipstick that made me look as if I’d been adored by some sexy prince.

I must’ve scrubbed up pretty well because the director couldn’t take his eyes off me. In his mid-thirties, Felix Carlton was said to be the next Spielberg, and the fact they’d been able to secure him for a romantic suspense was the best thing that could’ve happened for the production.

"You’re Saffron?" he’d asked, letting himself in, unannounced, to the changing room I shared with three other prospective actresses. We’d been shortlisted from the hundred or so interviews that morning.

I stood, dressed in the aquamarine ball gown my character wore in the final scene when her lover catches her cheating on him with one of her yoga client’s husbands.

Felix Carlton was one word…dashing. Straight from a Jane Austen period drama, he wore pleated grey trousers, a white shirt with no tie, and a shiny grey waistcoat. He even had a handkerchief peeking from his shirt pocket.

His dark hair was cut into a modern style with short back and sides with the strands longer on top to flop gallantly over his forehead. His face was kind, fierce, dominating, and understanding, all at once. And those eyes—the calculating brown that hadn’t missed a thing in every shot, that directed with effortless skill and intelligence.

"You were really good," he’d said, coasting to my side and looking me up and down. He’d completely ignored the other actresses. "I think you’d play a murderous Lucy Larson."

I’d kept my head straight, and heart full of business. "Thank you very much, Mr. Carlton. That means a lot."

He’d smiled, showing white perfect teeth and a dimple in his strong chin. "Please, I have a feeling we’ll be working a lot together. Call me Felix."

I jumped as Cas slammed a fist against the door. "Lace? You can’t hide in there all night. We now have a room full of sugar and alcohol, but I personally guarantee I’m not going to enjoy them nearly as much as I’m going to enjoy you."

I shook my head, shoving all thoughts of Felix Carlton from my mind.

Pointing a finger at my reflection, I murmured, "Don’t let this ruin you. Take what he gives you and don’t look for more. One-night—remember that."

Please don’t let me get hurt
.

Turning to leave the bathroom, I noticed another terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the door. There were no toiletries other than the hotel-supplied shampoo and body lotion, and the only sign of Cas’s existence was blood on a hand towel and crimson tissues in the metal basket.

How badly had he been injured when he returned from wherever he fought? Who was there to make sure he opened his eyes and survived after losing?

I doubt he’s ever lost
.

The memory of the way he moved when we first met—that cold calculation of knowledge that he punched life in its face and won, sent awe filling my heart. To have that confidence…

"I’m counting to three.  If I have to come in there, the first time will be for my pleasure not yours.  But, hell, you might actually like that."

My stomach flipped.

His finger tapped on the door. "One…"

Shit!

Grabbing the spare robe, I shrugged into the thick comfort, and belted it against my Agent Provocateur underwear.

What are you doing, Saff?

No amount of clothing would save me—just added more of an incentive to strip me as quickly as possible.

"Two…" Cas growled.

"Thr—"

I wrenched the door open before he finished. He paused, hand raised. His eyes fell to my hidden body, a laugh tumbling from his mouth. "Fuck, I didn’t think I’d find you any hotter, but damn, woman, I think I just came."

My eyes flared. "What?"

He wrapped an arm around me, moulding me to his chest. With one hand, he grabbed mine, and with no foreplay whatsoever, wrapped my fingers around his cock. It didn’t matter it remained hidden—barely—by his dressing gown, or that the material was thick and hid the silky heat of him—my core detonated with tiny sparks. 

"You’re trying to hide what I already know is under there. It makes me fucking hard." The agony in his voice couldn’t hide behind lust. He was honestly in pain with need.

Fisting my blonde hair, he tipped my head back, forcing himself into my hand. "Like what you feel?"

His lips landed on mine before I could reply, kissing me hard, possessively—so damn thoroughly, I couldn’t breathe.

He thrust into my palm.

My fingers tightened around his erection. "Yes, I do like what I feel." My voice turned breathy. "A lot."

He groaned, kissing me harder, forcing my mouth wider. I submitted to his control, moaning as his hands roamed, fingers digging into my skin.

Yanking me from the bathroom, he trapped me against the wall again. His breathing stuttered and tripped. "I like what I see—" His fingers tugged my belt, undoing it with one pull. The gown gaped, revealing the black and silver lace of my bra. "I love the shadows of your nipples through this material." His neck bent; I cried out as his mouth settled hot and fierce around the throbbing bud. His tongue swirled, drenching the bra in saliva and need.

My heart plummeted off a cliff as he pushed aside the remainder of the gown, nudging my legs apart with his knee. "And I love the glimpse of your cunt through these delicious panties." His strong fingers cupped me boldly, holding me as if I belonged to him.

Which I did, in that moment. Utterly his.

Wetness melted faster and faster. He didn’t move or stroke, just held me as I trembled in his grip. "I can feel your heat. Fuck, I want to be inside you."

His lips stole mine, his head tilting to kiss so deep. I sucked in a breath, drugging myself on his flavour.

His fingers drifted sideways, inching toward the side of my G-string.

I froze, desperate for more, terrified of what was to come. I would explode. There was no other conclusion to the build-up twisting inside.

My knickers came away, eased open by his mind-numbing touch.

Just as his finger grazed bare flesh, he broke the kiss, panting, "Just so I’m not breaking any laws…how old are you?"

How
old
was I?

He expected me to remember when his finger was fractions away from claiming me?

He teased me, fluttering his touch over the entrance to my pussy. I moaned, my eyes snapping closed.

"Answer me, Lace. I’m struggling to restrain myself. The minute I drive my finger inside you, it’s over. You’ll be naked, and I’ll be driving into you until we both combust."

"I’m—I’m—"

His finger pressed in a little, stealing my ability to stand. "What are you—twenty-one? Twenty-two?" His voice was guttural—as affected by touching me as I was.

Growling with frustration, he withdrew his finger.

Squeezing his cock, that still rested in my hand, I rushed, "Twenty-two! I’m twenty-two."

"Thank fuck."

He seized my mouth again and I screamed as his finger shot upward, driving deliciously hard inside. "Oh,
God
."

My lips bruised, his teeth punishing the tender flesh.

"Goddammit, you’re wet." His finger pulsed, rubbing the perfect spot, making me buckle and writhe.

His mouth never unglued from mine, annihilating my thoughts. His tongue dove in time with his finger, thrusting deep, retreating, then taking me all over again.

Gasping against my mouth, he muttered, "You’re young enough to do something reckless— " he kissed me deep and swift "—but old enough to know the consequences."

I narrowed my eyes, fighting against the crest of pleasure.  I didn’t like the way he said it. "Why does that sound as if it’s a threat and a challenge all in one?"

He grinned, lips wet and swollen. "Maybe it is." He kissed me again, shoving aside words in favour of taste. His proximity burned like a naked sunbeam against my already hot flesh.

"Tell me what you like." His finger curled inside, rubbing my G-spot. Spasms shot from my core and down my legs. I couldn’t do anything but take what he gave.

Driving his hips into my hand, his cock swelled. "Feel what you’re doing to me. Fuck, just touching you makes me want to come."

I gasped as he drove particularly hard inside. "I don’t know what I like—"A moan wrenched from my lungs as he hooked his finger, pressing another one deep. The luscious feeling of being stretched sent my mind washing with white noise.

"You like that?" His teeth captured my bottom lip. "You like my fingers inside you?"

I shivered, my knees buckling.
"What are you doing to me?"

He groaned as I rocked on his hand, seeking more from his stupefying touch. "Chemistry, Lace. It’s not me. It’s something that’s fucking magic between us."

I’d never put much stock in lust or connection, but shit, he was right. I didn’t know him. I didn’t care what his favourite food or colour was. I didn’t care, and I didn’t
need
to care. My body was the leader in this interlude, and my mind…all it had to do was
feel
.

His lips stole mine, kissing while thrusting his cock into my hand. I tightened my fingers around him, giving him friction. My heart clamoured in my ears as his tongue stole the rest of my sanity. I’d never been kissed like this.

Never been consumed.

He was right. When this was over, we would be walking away missing a tiny piece of us—a tear that would forever whistle in the winds of time—never to be repaired.

His thumb circled my clit while he mimicked the action with his swirling tongue. Everything he did stripped me of worries, drenching me in his enviable confidence.

Shoving aside his robe, I gasped as my hand dove between his legs and found his bare cock. It scorched my fingers, jerking with angry need.

"Fuuuck," Cas grunted, throwing his head back as I pressed a thumb against the tip and encircled the rest with eager fingers.

Power surged through me, sweat beaded between my breasts, and my mouth watered to taste him. I wanted to kneel before this unique stranger and give myself completely into his control.

Cas’s eyes flashed with black desire, his messy blond hair ruffled as if it suffered an overload of electricity. His face contorted as I stroked him. "You’re going to fucking kill me."

His head bowed, lips crashed, tongues danced.

We kissed.

We rocked.

We drove each other to the pinnacle of lunacy.

Then he pulled away. His cock slipped from my grip. My hand throbbed with the phantom feel of his hard heat.

I flinched as his fingers left me empty. With a gentle smirk and blazing eyes, he linked those same wet fingers with mine, pulling me from the wall.

Silently, he guided me toward the bed.

Awareness for more than just his mouth and fingers reminded me that room service had been delivered. I’d totally forgotten.

On a large tray at the foot of the bed rested two dishes covered by silver covers. A chilled bottle of champagne perspired in a blanket of ice in a black bucket by the bedside table.

My heart couldn’t calm down. How quickly my life had deviated off course. An hour ago, I was running for my life from a fire. Now, I was ruining myself with a stranger who fought for a living.

Not ruining.

Evolving.

I needed experience to draw on for the erotic scenes I would be made to play. If I could recall tonight as acting material, I would be forever hailed as the best sex-scene actress ever.

Cas leant over the tray. His robe hung open, flashing me hidden hard flesh. I shivered in anticipation as he inserted his finger into the hole of a silver cover and whipped it off.

"That looks incredible." My mouth watered at the scrumptious cheesecake with chocolate curls and raspberry coulis. 

Cas looked up, his eyes dropping to my flushed body, no longer hidden by the fluffy gown. I’d let it fall from my shoulders, puddling onto the floor. I didn’t need it. I was too hot. And besides, I planned on being very naked in the next five minutes.