by Jayce Carter
Her lips snapped together, the hard tone of his voice new. He’d never spoken like that to her.
He kept going. “I am not an unreasonable alpha, but I have a few expectations that you will follow so long as you live in my home and under my care. The first is pretty damn simple. You do not leave, especially in the middle of the night, without a word.”
“I wasn’t going far—”
His narrowed gaze had her words falling short. She felt like when she’d break the rules at her parents’ and they’d give her that same look. No matter what she said, she’d only dig herself deeper into trouble.
Though she’d never learned her lesson then, either, so she gulped and pushed on. “I didn’t want to sit in that room anymore.”
“So, you go for a walk. You talk to me. You do not head to an abandoned apartment building, having no idea what might be there. Do you realize no one knew where you were? Anything could have happened to you and I would have had no leads as to where you might have gone.”
When he put it like that, the guilt grew. He sounded pissed, sure, but beneath that? The worry broke through. He barely knew her. Why would he worry about her?
Instead of asking, because the last thing she needed to hear was obligation, she tried again. “I haven’t had to tell anyone where I am in a long time. And the last time I had to, I wasn’t good at it.”
“Too bad. Get used to it, girl, because that is how things will happen from now on.” He jammed a finger toward her. “You are my responsibility, whether you like it or not. You signed the contract, you chose this, and while I’m easygoing, you will not put yourself in this sort of risk without even a word to me about it.”
“I wasn’t at—”
Kieran came forward with a speed that made Tiffany’s head spin. She jerked backward, but it didn’t help. Before her mind had cleared, he had her pinned to the wall behind her, his body against hers, his hand in her hair to tilt her face up to his.
His lip curled up, eyes bright and furious and full of passion she’d never tasted. “You were attacked. You were at a place where they kept slave omegas. Do you have an idea what they do to them? They kidnap them and they have auctions and sell them off to the highest bidder. If Kane hadn’t been there, you could have ended up one of them. Don’t you dare sit there and tell me you weren’t at risk.”
She opened her mouth, but a tug at her hair silenced her.
“I suggest you be very careful with your words, because believe it or not, this is me being reasonable. Push me much further and you will find yourself bent over my lap with a hell of a sore ass, omega.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You want to bet?”
He would do it. The line of his lips, the tic of his jaw, they all said he had no problem doing exactly what he said. Why the hell does that idea turn me on? Why did the image of her trapped, pinned over his lap, make her cunt tense? It made her gasp, everything too warm suddenly.
And Tiffany? Like she always did, she pushed. “You wouldn’t.”
The snap of his control echoed through the room, nostrils flaring once before he moved. He hauled her by her good arm to the couch, and even if she pulled, his strength outmatched her by a far cry. Everything spun, and she found herself bent over his lap.
Her good arm came down to support herself on the ground, her bad one cradled against her chest, her body far enough forward that the position didn’t hurt it. Still, it put her ass up, and even when she kicked her legs, she could do nothing but accept it.
He reached beneath her to undo her jeans with one large, strong hand, then slid the pants over her ass. He didn’t remove them, only moved them to the tops of her thighs, and since she wore no underwear, it exposed him her pussy to him, even with her legs pressed together.
Her cheeks burned at the sight he must have, but he only stroked his hand over her ass once, then squeezed. “I’m expecting an apology, girl, and I suggest you mean it. I can do this all day if I need to, but I doubt your ass can take that much.”
She opened her mouth to smart off, but the first strike drew a started yelp. It wasn’t sensual, it wasn’t the moaning women did to sound sexy. Not even close. It came out frantic and startled like a trapped animal.
Tiffany thrashed on his lap, but he pressed a hand to her back to hold her still, and the pants around her thighs meant she had no leverage to get up. “What the fuck do you think you’re—”
Smack.
“I swear when I get up—”
Smack.
“This is insane, you—”
Each hit of his strong palm against her ass, as he switched from cheek to cheek and to different areas, made her skin burn with an awareness she’d never had. She’d gotten off on the idea of spanking before, but had always pictured it as something sensual. She’d pictured sweet little taps that she’d giggle about, that she’d moan and offer up fake ‘no’s to, that never pushed her limits or even came near them.
That wasn’t what he gave her. Instead, each strike came down hard and fast, his fingers catching her skin so hard it stung, and yet that sting woke something else inside her, something primal and hungry. He handled her as though he had a right to do so, and she responded by melting into that confidence.
The first sniffle surprised her as she gritted her teeth. Another hit, and she gave into his demand entirely, and into the part of her, no matter how little she understood it, that wanted to submit to this man. “I’m sorry!”
He paused, the thumb of the hand on her back rubbing against her. “I don’t like you in danger, Tiffany. I don’t want to have to identify your body because you put yourself at risk. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.” Her words turned into an embarrassing moan when his hand stroked over her ass.
He didn’t pause even when the sounds she made drifted between moans and whimpers. Some areas he stroked would make her skin burn, but the burn had transformed even more, shifting from something painful to something that made wetness cover her thighs and her hips squirm.
The unease from being bent over his lap and him having a perfect view of her cunt failed to matter anymore, ether. He could look all he wanted if he just kept touching her.
All she could feel was the stroke of his strong hand over her sore ass.
Kieran couldn’t tear his gaze away from her ass. The skin had turned pink, a few spots red, a few in the shape of his fingers. She had curves to her, which meant each strike made her ass shake, and the movement transfixed him.
Yes, he’d done it because she hadn’t listened, because she was so busy fighting him, she’d refused to stop and hear him. Nothing like a moment of insanity to force someone to take a breath and consider.
He should have known better. The moment he’d hauled her over his lap, punishment had turned into a far distant concern.
“You’re not wearing underwear, girl.” How had his voice turned so rough?
“I didn’t have any,” she whispered.
His cock jerked at that, and he knew damn well she felt it pressing against her, poised as she was over his lap. His hand shifted, sliding closer to her tempting cunt, to all the scent and wetness and heaven he saw there. The overhead light made the juices sticking to her thighs stand out, made his mouth water with want to taste her. “It isn’t a smart idea to go walking around with alphas near when you’re not wearing underwear. Later today, when we get your things, we’ll make sure you have some.”
His words fell clumsily from his lips, as if they were having a normal conversation. He tried to keep control, even as his gaze traced all he could see. Her cunt was fucking perfect. Plump outer lips pressed tight from how her legs were pinned together. She shaved, so nothing obscured his view. He wanted to press his thumbs into her, to spread her out, to see those inner lips, to see her clit nestled between the pliant folds and ensure she had no secrets from him.
Instead, he contented himself with the sight as his fingers dared nearer, brushing against her slit with the ligh
test touch.
Tiffany didn’t bother to answer, her struggles having died off, so she offered herself up to him. He could drive a thick finger into her waiting cunt and she’d only moan and beg for more. He knew it from her scent, from her body language, from the filthy, broken moans that left her lips.
He wanted to show her all the things she didn’t know about yet. He wanted to break her apart beneath his hands until she clawed and begged for rest.
He allowed himself a more solid stroke, from the top of her cunt, where her hidden, swollen clit lay, then up her slit without pressing in, and to her tight little asshole.
Ah, that got her going. She squirmed at the strange touch, but Kieran was in no mood to give in to anything she wanted.
He gave her a quick swat to settle her, then went back to his own exploration. He circled her ass, a single finger light and coaxing. Perhaps one time, when she misbehaved as seemed sure to happen again, he’d fuck her ass. He’d use lube, ensure she was prepared, but he’d wrap his fingers in her hair, put her on all fours and take her snug ass for worrying him. He’d never been an easy alpha to put up with, demanding and strict, but he had a feeling Tiffany could use such a thing. A little punishment might just make the wild omega slow down and think before she did things that risked her life.
His finger pressed against her as she clenched, as she fought him, before he stilled.
What the fuck am I doing?
Kieran pulled his hand away, a hard swallow at how close he’d been to losing control, to taking her. Sure, she’d have allowed it, but that wasn’t the point.
He pulled her pants up, ignoring how delicious her disgruntled whine was when the jeans rubbed against the red skin of her abused ass. He helped her to her feet, rising himself, needing space. She smelled too close, and he knew her wetness stuck to his fingers.
Her gaze stayed down, stuck, and at first, he thought she avoided him.
No. It seemed she was staring at the way his full erection showed through his slacks, the way they did little to hide how hard he was, how much he wanted her.
He needed her to be a voice of reason, to tell him to back off, to remind him she was too young, too inexperienced. Hell, he’d wanted to fuck her ass, and she was still a virgin. If that wasn’t a great example of what a disaster this was, he couldn’t think of a better one.
Kieran opened his mouth, but when nothing came out, he snapped it shut.
She looked up at him, lust a living thing inside her, dancing across her blue eyes and in the pink on her cheeks. At least, it did until she met his gaze.
Whatever she saw there dried it up. Her chin kicked up before she stepped back, though she couldn’t hide the grimace.
Whether it was from the jeans on her ass, or the rubbing of them against her still wet and hard clit, he didn’t know. Did it matter? He found either equally tempting.
“Right,” she said. “Just like always.”
“Get some sleep. We’ll get your things from your place when you wake up.”
She offered a look so hard, he ached from it, before turning on her heel.
“Fuck you, Kieran,” she muttered as she walked out.
Well, at least they agreed about that.
I am fucked.
Chapter Six
Just go home.
No matter how many times Marshall repeated the good advice to himself, he didn’t heed it. Instead, he stood outside the small coffee shop, arguing with himself.
Tiffany worked inside. He’d known it from her paperwork, and he told himself that he hadn’t gone looking in order to stalk her. He’d spotted it on her forms and taken notice, since he passed by the shop from time to time.
The reassurances didn’t work, however, and he found himself frustrated at his foolishness.
He’d walked out of the house and away from her because he’d known better. Whatever she wanted, he couldn’t give to her. So why couldn’t he let it go?
Why can’t I forget about her?
The soft taste of her lips that he’d gotten had left him stroking his cock during the night, picturing how she’d feel wrapped around him and how he could service her through her next heat. He’d spend an hour between those thighs, and instead of ignoring the moans she’d made, he’d make them louder.
So, rather than going to bed like a responsible adult, he’d spent the night like a teenage boy, masturbating to take an edge off that never dulled.
And worse? After working all that day, after a full night’s sleep, after another day at work, he hadn’t shaken loose her memory.
Instead, he’d decided that eight at night was the time he had to have a cup of coffee from that little shop on the corner he hadn’t tried.
The third time a woman stared at him, unease on her features, he realized he had to either walk away or go in. If he didn’t, Sam would end up being called, and he didn’t want to explain to the detective why he was standing on a street corner arguing with himself.
The coffee shop was everything he expected it to be. Small, bright and cheery, with a large display case holding the few pastries left from the day. One other patron sat at a corner table, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop, not even looking up when the bell above the door rang.
A swinging door behind the counter opened to show who he’d missed, that blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, blue eyes bright as she searched for the customer who had set off the bell.
When her gaze rested on him, a moment of pleasure flashed in her eyes before distrust took over.
He crossed the small shop to stand at the register, unsure what to say.
“Are you going to say you were craving a cup of coffee?” Her hands went to her hips, all attitude.
Marshall gave her a smile, as though that could wipe away the misunderstanding. “Of course not. I wanted a piece of lemon loaf, too.”
The stupid joke ate up the tension between them until she gave him a smile in return. “You’re lucky you’re charming. Okay, lemon loaf. Do you want something to drink?”
“Cappuccino, please.”
She rang up the order, and he slid his card through the reader on his side. Before he’d finished, she turned her back to him to work on the order.
She moved with a grace that said she was comfortable with the shop and the job. She took the food from the refrigerated case and slid it into a bag, placing it on the counter at the end before starting the shots. As they poured, she steamed the milk, a tap in her foot and sway to her hips that made him think she hummed to herself. The entire thing came together like a dance, and she moved like no one else watched.
She set the cup on the counter, the white foam on top in a perfect layer. “So, how far did you come for this drink?”
Marshall picked up the cup and took a sip. “Not that far. It’s between the hospital and my house. Though, with how good this is, I think I’ll make a stop more often.”
She washed her hands, dried them on a paper towel before tossing it, then came around the counter to his side. A nod at the small table across the shop from the writer had them sitting.
“What are you doing here?”
“You’re not wearing your sling.”
“I tried, but I couldn’t work one-handed. Besides, it’s feeling better.” She leaned back in her chair. “You’re not here to dispense medical advice, though.”
He picked off a piece of the lemon loaf and offered it to her. “You’re right. I wanted to see you.”
She took the offered bite and popped it into her mouth. “You weren’t interested in seeing much of me the other day. In fact, I’ve seen people flee natural disasters slower than you ran.”
He wanted to argue, but she had a point. Instead, he cupped the cappuccino in his hands for the warmth. “I didn’t think it was smart to indulge in anything. After what you went through, and your current troubles and situation with Kieran, allowing anything seemed unwise.”
“I’m a little tired of alphas deciding what’s best for me. I can make my
own choices.”
“You can, but I don’t want you suffering for choices I make as well. Kieran isn’t someone who shares, and since you’ve committed to staying with him for a year, it doesn’t seem ideal to start anything.”
She released a low laugh that lacked any humor. “Yeah, well, I don’t think you have to worry about that. Kieran and I aren’t happening.”
The attraction between the two was obvious. The way Kieran had snarled at people, the tension that had run through him as he’d waited for her to wake the night he had stayed at the hospital all said he hadn’t been there out of obligation.
It meant he suspected confusion. Was Kieran trying to keep things professional? Was she? Sometimes physical attraction wasn’t the only thing that mattered. Perhaps they’d found themselves incompatible in some other way?
Instead of saying any of that, he let the untruth remain. “Even if you two aren’t romantically involved, he still has a large say over you and your life. I thought I would be a complication, a point of conflict between Kieran and you.” He sipped the hot drink, let the warmth soothe the tension in him from the conversation. “I thought that, in a year when you were free from the contract, perhaps something could happen.”
“But you’re here now.”
He huffed a soft laugh, then shrugged. “I have less self-discipline than I thought. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and after arguing with myself outside, I finally gave in. You’re hard to forget.”
She didn’t answer right away, and disbelief played across her features.
“Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
She reached over, stole his drink and took a sip. “Because I’ve gotten used to men not actually wanting me. Seems like my lot in life.”
Foam sat on her top lip, and Marshall stopped resisting. What had resisting got him so far? He leaned over the table and traced her lip with his tongue. He cleared the foam, then stole the kiss he’d craved since he’d first seen her.
Tiffany moved with him, no hesitation at all. If anything, she pushed forward, aggressive. His hand went to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, ready to toss the table out of the way and take her—