Alphas & Fairytales: A New Year's Eve Anthology

by Molly McLain

  Down.

  Down.

  We both pant, our bodies covered in a sheen of sweat, our clothes scattered in a trail to where we sit now, exhausted and satiated. I let Jamie hold me, my weight completely resting against him, my chest to his, my arms around his shoulders and neck, head resting in the small space that I’ve missed—home. I’m relaxed and happy for nearly a minute before I feel my chest start to draw tight. I breathe in once, and my lungs aren’t satisfied, so I breathe in again.

  I breathe in short bursts, and the feel of it starts to hurt—I panic. Oh my god.

  Oh my god!

  “Shhhh,” he says into my ear, his hand sweeping away the damp wild strands of my hair. He brings my face into his hold, and I stare into his clear eyes, my mind telling myself to feel everything about this moment—to prove that it isn’t all a dream.

  A loud thunder shakes the freezer around us, and I startle, pulling myself close to him, afraid of being discovered. Jamie only chuckles.

  “Fireworks, Rabbit,” he says.

  Rabbit.

  I look at him panicked, but melt quickly hearing him call me that.

  “They’re all watching the fireworks,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose and tucking my hair behind my ears while his eyes look over me, stopping for long breaths on every curve of my face, following from one touch of his hand to the next.

  “Happy New Year,” I say, my lips curving lightly, my cheeks blushing as the aftershock of what we’ve done and where we are starts to settle in.

  Jamie chuckles. “Nobody is coming to look in the freezer now…believe me,” he says. “They’re all…”

  He stops to smirk, drawing my forehead to his.

  “Kissing,” he says, guiding my chin up, taking my mouth in his and kissing me once—deep and hard.

  He pulls away, and I literally bat my lashes. I’m blissful on his lap, naked, and Jamie is still hard inside of me. One wrong person sees us and I’m fired. My dreams dashed. And that thought excites me. It seems maybe Jamie and I both love to live on the edge.

  “And where are you going?” I ask him, leaning in to take the edge of his ear in my teeth. I let my tongue trace along the curve until I feel him pulse inside of me, and I grin against him.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, lifting me up and flipping me to my back, the cold floor searing yet glorious against my hot skin. “Not now,” he says, pushing into me as he falls forward, his arms caging me in. He rocks back out, and I cry out, reaching for his hips. His forehead falls to mine, and he gives me what I want.

  “Not ever. I’m never leaving you again,” he says.

  The sky crackles outside, and the dining room silences as well as the kitchen. I hear the occasional person moving down the line, pans clanking in sinks and water spraying. Busy or not, anyone could see us. We thrive off of the thrill.

  And I hold on tight for the ride.

  Message from the Author

  I hope you enjoyed this little slice (pun absolutely intended) of this exciting MMA/New Year’s Eve world. I am simply honored to have been a part of it. The work done by VETSports is so important, and the dedication of those who work and volunteer with this great organization is beyond words—it’s work that comes from passion, respect and love for our most courageous and selfless. Thank you for your gift by purchasing this anthology, and please consider to continue the support.

  * * *

  Sincerely,

  Ginger Scott

  ASU Sun Devil, and fan of #42 forever

  About the Author

  Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling and Goodreads Choice Award-nominated author of several young and new adult romances, including Waiting on the Sidelines, Going Long, Blindness, How We Deal With Gravity, This Is Falling, You and Everything After, The Girl I Was Before, In Your Dreams, Wild Reckless, Wicked Restless, The Hard Count and Hold My Breath.

  * * *

  A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. Ginger has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for…well…ever. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website at http://www.littlemisswrite.com.

  * * *

  When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

  Tempted Times Three

  BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  M NEVER

  Alphas and Fairytales: Tempted Times Three

  Copyright © M. NEVER 2016

  All rights reserved

  * * *

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from author M. Never.

  Jenn

  “Ignore him. He’s an asshole.”

  “She’s your biggest fan, huh?” The pretty brown haired woman with blonde highlights looks back at Ty, highly amused.

  “We have a special relationship,” Ty divulges dryly.

  Special is putting it mildly. It’s been a year since my life imploded. Since I lost the only man I considered family and the only place I ever called home.

  “Go easy, pixie.” Chase places his hand on my thigh, tempering me.

  Don't get me wrong. My life isn't all bad. Actually, it's the best it's ever been. Despite all the changes, I'm a happy woman, a successful business owner, and in love with two of the most generous, gorgeous, addictive men on earth.

  “They have a rocky history. We’re working to move past it,” Shane informs the woman with mirth. They may make light in public to save face, but the four of us know I meant what I said. My disdain for Ty is still fresh.

  I didn't even want to sit near him, much to Shane’s and Chase’s dismay. Instead of my usual spot, sandwiched right between them, I'm on Chase’s right—two whole, firm bodies away from Ty.

  This whole trip was Ty’s idea. His family’s company—Winters Travers—donates an obscene amount of money to various charities across the US. Including VETSports, an organization dedicated to providing military veterans with better mental, emotional, and physical health through sports and physical activity. At least that’s what the program says. I’d never heard of the charity until tonight. Ty approached Shane, Chase, and me with the opportunity to spend New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas this year. I didn't exactly jump at the offer, but Chase’s face lit up when Ty mentioned ringside seats at a professional MMA fight. Chase is my jock. If it involves any kind of physical activity, he’s all about it. Add a ball, some competition, and we’ve lost him to the dark side. Shane is my dreamer; although he likes sports, he’d much rather be sketching or designing or doing something creative with his mind. Two beautifully different men who both bring something unique to our unique relationship.

  After some intensive persuasion on both Shane’s and Chase’s parts, I finally agreed. I may not be Ty’s biggest fan, but he is their boss, and their best friend.

  Ty has been trying to get on my good side ever since the three of us became exclusive. Extending olive branch after olive branch, but I don't respond well to deceit or shady business. Even though Chase explained Ty was well within his legal right to purchase the Corkscrew— the restaurant I practically grew up in—behind my back because it had several liens against the property. It’s still hard for me to get past my home being ripped away several hours after the only man I ever considered a father figure passed away. It dev
astated me. All of it. And honestly, if it weren't for Chase and Shane, I don't know where I’d be.

  So here we are Shane, Chase, Ty, and me—at the MGM Grand in Vegas, dressed in formal attire, awaiting the final match to begin. Afterwards, we’re attending a huge gala, chockfull of high profile guests, including celebrities, pro athletes, television personalities, and business elites, like Ty.

  All proceeds from both events are going to benefit VETSports. That info was in the program, too.

  I'll admit, it's all pretty spectacular. I’ve never been to Vegas before, but I'm playing down my excitement and the fact Shane and Chase forcibly encouraged this trip. I'm from a small, sleepy, coastal New Jersey town and hadn't traveled at all until I met them. A few weeks after my entire universe fell apart, they whisked me away to a private island Ty’s family owns. Perks of working for a billion-dollar company—private everything. We spent seven glorious days in tropical solitude, and I swear, the tranquil caress of the island breeze and the love of two virile men rapidly healed a diminished soul. I was already a damaged human being coming from the neglected home that I did, but being with them changed me in a way no one could have foreseen. They make me a stronger and happier person. When they first confronted me with this notion of a triad relationship, it was all a little bizarre. Their holy trinity, they called it. When three people weave into one.

  Okay, having a one-night stand with two sexy strangers in a stairwell, fine. Waking up next to them each and every morning, ludicrous. Relationships were not my forte—they never kept my interest—until Shane and Chase waltzed into my life. Now, everything is different. I'm different, and it's because of the two men who keep me grounded and flying high all at the same time. I sneak a glance at them as the bell rings for round one. Their looks are starkly different. Chase is broad and muscled with sharp brown eyes and neatly-styled black hair, while Shane has wild blond waves and the most beautiful, acute hazel eyes. The way he sees the world is on a completely different level, finding beauty, style, and contrast in everything around him, including me.

  It's a bit odd to be at a professional fight in evening wear, but our attire doesn't make the event any less exciting. In fact, it makes it feel more elite. Everyone in this room is a VIP, accustomed to the flashy atmosphere, bright lights, and electrifying energy. The crowd roars as the two half naked men in the caged ring go pound for pound and kick for kick. Chase is eating up every second, yelling and cheering in his elegant black tux. The man is to die for. Both my men are.

  During the violent fight, I notice Ty concentrating more on the pretty brunette in front of us than the bloody main event. Poor girl. I want to tell her to run as fast and as far away from Ty as she possibly can. She seems way too nice to even casually converse with an asshole like him.

  Chase squeezes my knee as if he can feel the hostility radiating off me.

  “Save all that aggression for later,” he murmurs hotly in my ear. “It’ll make your orgasms all the better.” My blood simmers. My orgasms are pretty explosive on an ordinary day. I can't imagine what they’ll be like tonight. After the fight and drinking and dinner and extravagant gala. I feel like a postmodern Cinderella dressed in a formal navy blue gown on the arm of two devilishly handsome princes. Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life.

  “Winner!” The announcer’s voice suddenly echoes through the deafening sound system. “Gavin ‘The Ripper’ Jones!”

  The fighter dances victoriously on his toes in the middle of the ring as his arm is held up over his head.

  “Nice!” Chase turns to Ty and they bump fists. “Payday.”

  “What does that mean?” I question.

  “Just a friendly bet amongst friends. Ty and I just won.”

  “You bet on a charity fight?” I scold him.

  Chase smiles candidly. “All proceeds will go to a good cause?” He tries to get cute.

  “Yeah. Your already fat pockets.” I poke him.

  “Would I get back in your good graces if I told you we’ll give half the winnings to a charity of your choice?”

  “Yes,” I huff.

  “We’ll give all the winnings to charity,” Ty chimes in aloofly. We all look over at him, the brunette sitting in front of us included. “We were more interested in the bragging rights than the money.” Ty indifferently brushes some invisible lint off the lapel of his tux.

  Of course, bragging rights are more important. He’s already got more money than God. Why the hell would he need a few more measly dollars? Status, pride, and persona are the only currency valuable to a man like Ty.

  “That's very generous of you. Both of you.” I look between Chase and Ty.

  “That's because they are both very generous men,” Shane chimes in, tapping the inside of Chase’s thigh, attempting to advocate civility.

  Chase is a generous man, I think spitefully to myself. Outwardly, I allow my lips to curve up into a small smile. “Of course they are.”

  Ugh, I live between such a rock and a hard place. Ty does have his moments. The good ones seem to parallel the bad. He may have acquired the Corkscrew behind my back, but he did sell Shane and Chase the space for my oceanfront restaurant for one dollar. So as much as I want to hate him, that little nugget of information nags at me constantly.

  Ty is a businessman. He does what he knows. And he knows business well. Try not to crucify him forever. Mourn, and then move on. You’re not alone. You have us. You’ll always have us. Shane’s prolific words ring loud.

  “Ready to party, pixie?” Chase jiggles my hand, jolting me back to the present.

  I glance at Ty, and then relent. Let’s see how this party of four fairs.

  As we stand to leave the arena, I notice Ty zeroing in on the brunette. I think he likes her.

  Call me perceptive. Once at her full height, we both get a good look at her highly-toned figure. She’s wearing a one-sleeved, champagne colored, empire waist gown, with a high neck that looks like a shiny fan. It's a bold but tasteful look. Ty doesn't get a chance to seize the moment; before he can engage her again, a man in a tuxedo is calling to her from the aisle. Her date? Boyfriend? Husband, perhaps? We never find out as she hurries away and into his awaiting arms. I try not to feel sorry for Ty as he looks on like a forlorn little puppy, watching her embrace another man.

  Karma’s a bitch, a-hole.

  The four of us shuffle out of the arena along with the other droves of spectators dressed in formal wear. The MGM Grand is a gargantuan, behemoth of a hotel with not only a sporting arena in-house but a theater, casino, pool that could be its own island, and an ultra-extravagant ballroom. When I arrived in Vegas, I realized just how small the fishbowl I’ve been living in is.

  The trek to the ballroom is a pretty good distance from the arena, but I enjoy the sights as we walk. It’s like being on safari. There’s always something new and wondrous to behold. Like the group of sparkly showgirls, high rollers decked out in diamonds and gold, and bachelor and bachelorette parties galore. It's a constant high walking through the grand hallways.

  “Your eyes look like they are bulging out of your head,” Chase teases me.

  “There’s just so much to see.” I squeeze his hand like an excited child.

  “And even more coming.”

  Shane touches the small of my back before guiding his way to my other hand. I let go of Chase and continue onward fluidly. We play this little game in public, switching back and forth with the PDA so no one is left out and to confuse any onlooker interested enough to try and make heads or tails of us.

  Trickery is fun.

  The three of us share a clandestine look, before Chase stops dead in his tracks. “Shit.” He places a hand over his right eye.

  “Are you okay?” I place my palms on his chest, confused and concerned.

  “My contact just popped out of my eye.”

  “Oh no.” I reflexively lift my foot and look around on the glossy floor.

  “Did you bring an extra pair?” Shane inquires.


  “No, those were a thirty-day pair. I don't take them out.”

  “Did you bring your glasses at least?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Chase confirms, disgruntled. “And I have to go back to the room and get them, or I'm going to be squinting at everyone all night.” He removes his hand and taunts me with his winky eye.

  “Stop.” I tap the lapel of his tux playfully. “The only people you’re allowed to wink at is me and Shane,” I specify steadfastly.

  “Agreed,” Shane backs me up. “Let’s go get your glasses before you eye the wrong person and Jenn starts a fight.”

  Shane’s statement may have been said in jest, but I wouldn't hesitate throwing down if anyone tried to come between me and my men.

  “You okay with us meeting you?” Shane asks Ty, who is carelessly typing away on his phone.

  “Yep.” He lifts only his shrewd green eyes. In the bright, fluorescent light, they look like two shards of broken glass. “There are several attendees on my hit list. I’ll be able to occupy my time.”

  It's no secret Ty is a shark, so it's no surprise he’d use this gala to his advantage to poach—I mean acquire—new business connections.

  “Later, then.” Chase begins to back up in the direction of the elevators. The four of us go our separate ways: Shane, Chase, and I back to the hotel suite, and Ty toward the ballroom.

  The three of us board the elevator that will whisk us to the twenty-sixth floor. Ty spared no expense. When he said the trip was on him, he meant it. I know Shane and Chase have a special relationship with Ty. Honestly, I think they’re his only friends. Like, true friends. The three of us coming together put a strain on all relationships involved. But Shane and Chase continue to amaze me. They are the glue that holds us all together. They’re the voice of reason and the reminder that the present doesn't have to repeat the past. Pops used to tell me something similar. Sitting at the end of his weathered bar wearing a fedora, chewing on a cigar, drinking a large glass of cognac.