Alpha, p.22
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       Alpha, p.22
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         Part #1 of Alpha series by Jasinda Wilder
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“I don’t remember you bringing this home,” I said, grabbing a fork from the tray and digging in.

  Roth sat cross-legged on the other side of the tray from me, taking the other fork and shoveling a huge bite of chicken Parmesan into his mouth. “I didn’t,” he said after he’d chewed a few times. “I was so focused on getting us back here and getting you naked that I forgot it. That message I sent earlier was to Marco. I asked him to have our leftovers brought here. ” He took another bite, and then poured wine into a glass. There was only one glass, though, and he filled it nearly to the brim. “Marco would kill me for mistreating the wine like this, but I don’t care. Wine etiquette is for when you’re in public. ”

  After a healthy gulp, he passed the glass to me. We were sharing a glass of wine. Something about that made me giddy. “Well, you already know I don’t give much of a shit about wine etiquette,” I said. “I mean, if I’m out with you, I’ll try to follow your lead so I don’t embarrass you, but I clearly wasn’t raised with the kind of manners you were. ”

  He shrugged. “Just be yourself, Kyrie. I don’t care if you know how to appreciate fine wines. That can be learned. The beauty of your soul, however, cannot be taught, and that is what I appreciate most about you. ”

  “God, Roth. That’s so sweet. Thank you. ” I gazed at him, letting some of what I felt for him flow through me and melt into my expression. “I feel the same about you. I mean, yeah, you’re the most handsome, sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my f**king life, but the more I learn about who you are, the more I appreciate you. ”

  Roth set his fork down very carefully, tilting his head to one side. His expression was inscrutable. “You…appreciate me?” He sounded stunned. “You don’t…resent me for claiming you the way I have?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. ” I endeavored to sound casual, so I paused to take a bite of lasagna, chewing and swallowing before I continued. “Look, I’m pretty in tune with my emotions, okay? When I figure out how I feel, I don’t waffle around about it. Once I know I like something, I’m all in. And I don’t fight feeling something just because it should be impossible or whatever. I know I should be insulted by the way you brought me here and told me you owned me, and I was at first. But…once I gave in to playing your game your way, I realized I liked it. Giving in, obeying your commands, is…freeing. It’s hot. I’ll never be a quiet, submissive little thing. Obeying doesn’t come naturally to me. It never has, and it never will. I’m strong, and I’m independent. But when you take charge and I let myself give in, I have fun. ”

  “Well. I’m glad for that. ” He picked up his fork, but I could tell he was still deep in thought. “But that doesn’t explain you appreciating me. ”

  “No? Think about it, Roth. Think about me. Would I have gone this far with you, given in and obeyed and let you do all the things to me that you have if I didn’t trust you? If I didn’t enjoy it and enjoy you?”

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  He shook his head. “No. Of course not. ”

  “Then you get it. ” A few more bites, a swallow of wine, and then I continued. “I like sex. I like it a lot. But I don’t do random, meaningless sex. I’ve been with a few guys, as I’m sure you know, but I’ve never felt a…connection…of some sort to any of them. I know that’s not a great thing to say, or to think about after what we just did together, but that’s exactly the point. All that? Everything that I’ve done before, all the guys I’ve been with before…none of them could even remotely compete with you. Not on any level. That” —I gestured at the bed— “was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It meant something. I don’t know what, exactly, but it did, and I know it, and I think you do, too. ” But there was a lie in there. That I did know.

  “You’re right, of course. ” Roth said. Then he took a long swallow of wine before passing the last of it to me. “I think we both have a lot to think about. ”

  Roth and I had polished off a startling amount of food in a short time, all of the leftovers now gone, the wine finished, too. I was sated in every way: my stomach full, sexually glutted, a little buzzed, heart and mind full of powerful emotions kept secret for the moment.

  Roth took the tray and set it on the floor outside the bedroom, then went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. His bathroom was even more incredible than mine. The shower was a cavernous space of dark marble and clean glass. There was a bench in the middle, with a six-foot-long rainfall showerhead embedded in the ceiling above it, and jets along the wall also angled toward the bench. There was a more traditional long-necked showerhead on one wall, located above the controls for the water flow.

  I watched Roth from the bed, enjoying the play of his muscles beneath his firm skin, watching his ass tighten and relax with every step, his dangling c**k swinging, balls heavy, thighs thick and powerful, arms long and hard and bulging with muscle. He turned one lever in the shower and the overhead shower kicked on, sending a stream of water down onto the bench. He turned another lever, and the jets sputtered and started, and then he adjusted a third lever, for the temperature, I assumed. He pushed a button on a panel outside the shower-room; the bathroom dimmed, and a set of soft multicolored lights set into the floor and walls of the shower came on, playing into the streams of water, making one jet crimson, another azure, a third hunter green. Muted amber shone down from the overhead stream, and purple was aimed across the floor.

  Roth came back into the bedroom and scooped me up in his arms.

  As he carried me into the bathroom, I said, “You really have a thing for pimped-out showers, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I suppose I do. A long, hot shower can be a magical thing, don’t you agree?” He set me down on the bench and closed the door to the shower. “If you think the showers in this place are something, you should see the one in my place on Turks and Caicos. ”

  “You have a place in Turks and Caicos?” I asked.

  The water was just this side of too hot, the stream from above beating down with incredible force, the jets spraying me from all sides. Roth reached down between his feet and pulled out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel, as well as a scrubbing poof, all of which were hidden in some kind of compartment built into the bench itself.

  “Yes,” he said, reaching for me and pulling me to sit sideways on his lap. “Besides this place, I have homes in Turks and Caicos, London, Paris, and another in a tiny village on the Mediterranean coast of Italy. I spend most of my time here, as my business is centered in New York, so I rent those other homes out most of the year. I always take three months out of the year to travel, however, so I keep my other homes open and ready for me from September through November. ”

  He threaded his fingers into my hair and began massaging my scalp, bunching handfuls of my hair under the stream of water. The bench was placed so that, depending on which way you leaned, you could get the stream on your head or on your back and not on your face. I leaned against him, closed my eyes, and let the hot water beat down on my spine, listened to his heart pulsing, enjoyed the attention of his hands on me.

  He worked shampoo into my hair, scrubbing my scalp and lathering my hair thoroughly down to the tips, and then he leaned us forward so the water sluiced the shampoo away. He backed away again, and the water streamed onto my back, allowing Roth to work conditioner into my hair. While the conditioner set, he squeezed the poof out in the jets of water and applied some shower gel, and began scrubbing: my back, over my shoulders and down my arms, everywhere he could reach without moving me.

  “All right, stand up for me. ” He shifted forward, and I reluctantly stood up.

  Roth washed me all over, getting me clean, and then began to run the poof over my body in a more leisurely fashion, paying attention to my br**sts first, lifting them and sliding the poof beneath them, then over my ni**les. I leaned my head back into the water, and moaned in enjoyment as the hot water ran over my face and down my back, Roth’s hands wandering down my belly
and between my legs. He’d already washed there, but I widened my stance anyway and let him run the soft yet scratchy poof over my sensitive skin.

  While he roamed my body, I grabbed the bottle of shampoo and lathered his short, thick blond hair, tangling my fingers in it until the suds foamed up and rinsed away under the stream. I repeated the process with the conditioner, and then took the poof from him, reapplied the gel, and scrubbed him clean from head to toe, clinically at first. Then, once he was clean, I did as he had, slowly and gently exploring his body.

  I started at his shoulders, scrubbing with the poof in one hand, sliding my other hand over his slick, wet skin afterward. I couldn’t resist kissing his flesh where the water had rinsed the soap away, making a train of touches, scrub first, smooth away with my hand, then kiss. Down his arms, one and then the other. His chest, over his pecs, tracing their outlines, then down between them to his abs, kneeling on the marble and scrubbing and kissing my way down each side of his sharp V-cut. He tensed, but I intentionally ignored his c**k and balls, choosing instead to make my way down one thigh, holding the back of his knee as I kissed his shin and the side of his calf and his foot, then the opposite ankle and back up. His knee. His thigh. His hip. I pressed my tits against him as I reached around to cup his firm, taut ass, scrubbing each cheek and then between. I gazed up at him, abandoning the pretense of washing him now as I held onto his ass.

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  I stared up at him, breathing deeply, communicating a silent request with my eyes.

  “I’m at your mercy, sweet Kyrie. ” He gazed down at me, frowning slightly, brows drawn, eyes rife with intensity and emotions I couldn’t read.

  I smiled up at him, a slow unfurling curl of my lips. “Anything?”

  “Anything. ”

  My tongue flicked out to lick the groove of his abs, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his backside. He rested his hands on my shoulders, breathing deeply, watching me. I sank down so my heels dug into my ass, my eyes on his cock. He was still at rest, hanging down and curving to one side a bit. With my hands still gripping the delightful bubble of his butt, I bent and kissed his sac. A kiss at first, just a touch of my lips, but then when his fingers tightened on my shoulders, I opened my mouth and extended my tongue to lick his taint and up his balls, then took his sac fully into my mouth and sucked gently. He hissed, and I felt his cock, lying across my cheek, harden. I tilted my head so the length of his hardening dick rested on my face while I suckled his balls.

  “Shit, Kyrie. What—what the hell are you doing?” I’d never heard him sound so…out of control before, and I relished the feeling.

  “Anything I want,” I said, then took his sac into my mouth again, sucked once, and backed away. “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes. So good. ”

  “Want me to do it again?” I wanted to see how long he’d let this reversal of roles last.

  “Please. Yes. ”

  So I did it again, and with every touch of my lips and tongue, his sac tightened and his c**k hardened. All the while, my hands were holding tight to his ass, both for balance and because I loved the way his butt felt in my hands. And also, I had plans for his ass. Dirty plans that would probably surprise him.

  When I felt his c**k harden to a semi-erection, I moved my mouth to his shaft. A long lick lifted his cock, and the mushroom head was in my mouth. I took him in, gave him one gentle suck, and then backed away. He moaned when I did this, so I did it once more, licking from balls to tip, pausing at the end to suck as much of his length as I could fit into my mouth. The harder and thicker he got, the less I could take, and he was nearly at full erection, his beautiful penis standing straight up now, veined and straining, skin stretched, his head gleaming with my saliva, balls tight against his body.

  I stared up at him. “I’m going to suck you dry, Valentine. I’m going to take your big hard c**k into my mouth and suck you until you come so hard you can’t stand up straight. And then I’m going to keep sucking. ”

  He growled in his chest, eyes narrowed, jaw set.

  I turned my head sideways and wrapped my lips around his girth, licking him with my tongue as I slid my mouth down to the root, then back up, taking him in my mouth until his tip hit the back of my throat. I lifted up onto my knees, twisted my body sideways to his, and bent over him, opening my throat and taking him deeper still. He rumbled and moaned, gasped as I backed away and then licked down the other side, sinking back down so my heels touched my butt, then bending further so I could take his taut sac into my mouth again. He hissed this time, and the hiss turned into a drawn-out moan when I slid my fingers into the crease of his ass. A single gentle suckle of his balls, and then I moved back up to wrap my lips around his head. At the same moment that I sucked on him hard, I slid my fingers over his ass**le, all ten fingers brushing the tight knot of muscle and back up.

  “Kyrie?” It was harsh sound, a questioning demand.

  I spat him out just enough to allow speech. “You said anything. I want to touch you there. ” I touched him with my middle finger, pressed in. “I like it. You might, too. ”

  “Shit. ” He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out. “Go on, then. ”

  I felt giddy, excited. It was a big, huge, insanely enormous deal for him to let me do this, I knew. “Just relax. Hold onto my hair. Pull it if you want. ”

  He buried his hands in my wet hair, gripping it near the roots. One of my hands was cupped on the half-moon globe of his ass, and the other was on the crease near his thigh, my middle finger pressed against his ass**le. I buried his c**k in my mouth, tonguing him, backed away and licked the tip, then swirled my tongue around the head. When I took him deep again, he cursed under his breath and tightened his grip on my hair. He was so thick now that he stretched my lips, and I felt every pulse of his blood in the veins of his cock, and I knew that I had him close. He was still, his body rock-hard, tensed, forcing himself to stay still.

  I looked up at him, watching his reaction as I worked my finger harder against his ass**le. His jaw clenched tighter, his shoulders tensed, and his eyes flicked down to lock on mine. “You can move, Valentine. Move your hips. Fuck my mouth. I can take it. ”

  His expression darkened, his chest swelling as he took a deep breath. I returned my attention to his dick, spent a fleeting moment just staring at it, tall and proud and begging for my mouth. I licked the tip, and he twitched. Then I slid him between my lips, and this time he shifted his hips, pushing into my down-thrust. I backed away before he touched my throat, and he immediately pulled back. Again I lowered my mouth on him, and he matched my motion, pulling back when I did. I started bobbing, and he moved with me, shallow thrusts to match mine, and as I set a rhythm, I started pulsing my finger against his ass**le. Groans left him, one after another, and then my fingertip slid in just a tiny bit, and he hissed, cursing.

  “Jesus Christ, Kyrie. ” His voice was a ragged whisper.

  He took my hair in two handfuls and gripped hard, sucking in a rasping breath and groaning it back out. I bent his c**k away from his body so I was thrusting my face toward his body, allowing me to open my throat more and take him deeper. I pushed my finger in a little more, and he couldn’t hold back then, pulling me by the hair onto his cock. I moaned, more for his benefit than mine; the vibrations made him growl and thrust again.

  I backed away, sensing that he was close, and kept my lips sealed around the groove beneath the head, sucking and pulsing my finger in and out, just the first knuckle of my middle finger barely moving, but it was enough for him to lose all control, thrusting at me. I let him move as hard as he wanted, but I pulled away from his thrusts until he groaned in protest. And then I downed him, pulling him away from his torso and taking him into my throat until his balls touched my lower lip. I felt a moment of triumph that I’d taken that much of him.

  And then he tugged on my hair twice. “I’m coming, Kyrie. ” I backed away and suckled th
e sponge-springy head of his dick, giving him shallow bobs to thrust into. “I want to come on your tits. ”

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  “Mmmm-mmm. ” I kept bobbing on him, holding his ass and letting my finger go still inside him.

  He growled in frustration, but then I felt his sac tighten and his c**k throb, and then I felt his c**k jerk. He came with a burst of hot, salty, musky come on my tongue. I sucked and swallowed the first gush, and then spat him out. He reached down and squeezed my tits together, and I slid my fist down his length, stroking him to milk the second stream from his cock. I watched as a jet of white seed spurted onto the slope of my boobs and slid down between them, washed away by the water still sluicing down from above, hot but going warm now. I moved against him, crushed his c**k between my tits, and he thrust up, into my waiting mouth, shooting a third jet of come onto my lips and tongue. I wiggled my finger deeper into his ass**le, and he cursed, throwing his head back, arching his spine, taking my middle digit past the first knuckle. He rocked his hips, thrusting his c**k into my mouth, and I felt another spurt of come jerk from him, and then again, less this time, and then he was arching his spine and fluttering his hips in small quick thrusts. I sucked at each little spasm of his cock, holding him still against me with one hand on his butt cheek. I flicked his pulsing head with my tongue and milked him with my mouth until I knew he was done, and then kept sucking, bobbing my head and creating as much suction as I could.

  Finally, he stumbled backward, wrenching himself from my grip. I let him go and stood up, watching him as he sagged back against the wall of the shower. I felt powerful. This was a man always perfectly composed, a man who prided himself on his self-control and restraint, and I’d just reduced him to a panting, boneless mess. Calmly, I squeezed a tiny bit of gel onto the poof and washed my hands, my face, and my tits, then approached him and ever so gently scrubbed his crotch.

  The water was going cool now. Roth stared at me for a long moment, then let out a long breath and moved past me to shut off the water. Thick towels were stacked in a cubby built into the wall just outside the shower, and Roth pulled one free and wrapped it around me, brows furrowed, expression unknowable, his emotional walls back in place. He wiped me dry from head to toe, gently and thoroughly, and then himself. Both of us dry, he scooped me up in his arms, hesitated as if to bolster his strength, and then carried me into the bedroom.

 
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