Alex in Wonderland (Twisted Fairytales #1)

by Max Monroe

My blood pounded in my veins as I worked to control myself, to somehow curtail the urge to throw her down right here, rip her panties right off, and bury my face in her cunt until everyone at this goddamn party knew my name.

  Finger clean, I smoothed the line of my tie down my chest, picked up my drink from the table in front of us, crossed an ankle over my knee, and stretched my other arm across the back of the couch. I could just reach from that position to sweep her hair back off of her shoulder.

  “Why don’t you go back to work, little one?”

  She stood, sweeping her tray off of the couch beside her and stomping off without looking back.

  I grinned into my scotch. There was never a better way to leave someone than wanting more.

  THE BARELY RISEN SUN PEEKED inside my bedroom, and I shielded my eyes with a clumsy arm thrown over my face. I had no idea what time it was. Didn’t care what time it was. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to fall into that beautiful abyss of nothing without these racing thoughts of Matt breaking through my REM cycle.

  I tossed and turned. I pulled the comforter over my body and then threw it back off when it got too hot. I moved to my side and then my back and then my belly, repeated that mindless circuit once more until I settled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.

  Matt Hadder had commandeered my brain.

  Ever since I’d arrived home late last night, I’d fought the wild ideas. But it was of no use. He was all I could think about. My mind analyzing and fantasizing each and every encounter we’d had. I felt fixated. Obsessed. Consumed.

  God, the way he’d touched me last night. Just one soft, simple graze of my skin by way of his confident fingertips and I was seduced. Hell, I was seduced before he’d touched me. Just the sound of his voice and I was done for.

  Matt’s voice had this confident yet intense lilt I’d come to know so well. It entranced me, left me spellbound and ready for more. More words. More dirty. More bad. More Matt. Just…more.

  He made me want to be bad. And fuck if that didn’t feel good.

  Last night, the feel of his lips against my skin spurred electric tingles to shoot up my spine. I’d wanted more than just his touch, his lips, his heady gaze. I’d wanted to play. Kiss. Feel. Taste. Fuck.

  I still wanted that.

  As I lay there staring up at my ceiling, I moved my fingers down my body, taking in the soft curve of my breasts, the smooth skin of my belly, until I stopped above the waistband of my panties. I paused there for a brief moment, dancing my fingertips across my skin, until the urge to slide my hand beneath the soft material became too strong.

  Wet. Aching. Throbbing. I was too aroused, too turned on, too sexually frustrated not to give in to the desire for release.

  I closed my eyes once I started to rub smooth circles onto my clit. A moan left my lips when I slid one finger inside and felt myself clench with need.

  God, it felt good.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d touched myself, given myself an orgasm.

  And I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering toward Matt.

  I grew wetter at the mere thought of him. My nipples hardening as I fantasized about all of the dirty and delicious things I desired…

  We’re in his apartment, sitting on his sofa. The morning breeze blowing in through an open window. And I’m trying to be indifferent, trying not to let him know how much power he has over me. I don’t lean in, don’t make it easy or seem too keen.

  But seduction is what Matt does best, moving into my personal space with just the right expression of heat in his eyes. He doesn’t just look at a woman, he stares into her as if he knows her desires.

  He brushes my hair off my shoulder and moves in so close I can feel his big, muscular body pressed up against me. I feel his warmth, and already my mind has placed our lips together. But instead, like last night, he caresses my neck, slow and gentle.

  He’s making me wait, and I can hardly bear it.

  I want his lips.

  I want his kisses.

  I want him naked and bared.

  I want to feel him inside of me. Fucking me. Taking me. Claiming me.

  He cups my face in his hands and gives me what he knows I want. Deep, heady, mind-blowing kisses, his lips and tongue dancing with mine.

  Bad. Illicit. He is the forbidden fruit. I know what we are about to do is wrong, but I want this. I want him. The devil’s cruel intention is already a success.

  In one fluid motion, Matt reaches over, lifting me up and sitting me astride his lap, my dress riding up my thighs ever so slightly. He is hard between my thighs, his cock pressed against the damp material of my panties.

  I’m already wet for him. So fucking aroused.

  Our gaze lasts a full second, enough for each to take in the face of the other. Nothing needs to be said, millions of years of evolution have already taken care of the message.

  I’m seduced.

  He pulls his hard cock out of his jeans and, without hesitation, lifts me up and slides inside of me.

  I’m filled.

  His eyes lock with mine, and with sure, precise movements, he starts to fuck me. Deep, long, and heavy strokes.

  I moan his name. And he smirks before thrusting harder, his fingers gripping my hips. He moves his hands to my breasts and lets out a heady growl as he licks and sucks at the pliant flesh as if he’s starved.

  And it doesn’t take long until I’m clenching around him, chanting his name, and climaxing hard. Fuck, I’m his…

  Heavy breaths left my lungs in shaky pants, and I blinked my eyes open. My vision blurred, moving in and out in psychedelic waves before the room came into focus.

  I was back in the present. My bedroom. Not Matt’s apartment.

  A few droplets of sweat dripped down my forehead as I glanced down to find my legs spread wide, my panties haphazardly tossed off to the side, and my hand still firmly cupped over myself.

  Holy hell, I’d just gotten myself off with Matt’s name on my lips.

  And fuck if it hadn’t felt so very good.

  TAKING A SIP OF MY coffee and stifling a yawn, I clicked to open the latest email I’d requested from the tech team, and listened as the MP3 file started to play. I was beginning to hate the importance of my position and the ruthlessness with which I had to rule—especially since my sleep quality as of late had taken a dive down the shitter.

  Something about Alex called to me in a way nothing ever had. I didn’t know if it was losing my mother the way I had at such a young age, or the way John had raised me in the business, or if no one had ever had anything worth my time, but I’d lived most of my life as though I were numb. I fucked and self-fulfilled, but none of it ever felt necessary.

  I could have slit the throat of any woman I was with without regret if I’d needed to for the sake of my true love, Wonderland.

  And now I was losing sleep over a woman. Fantasizing, dreaming, practically feeling her body in my sheets every time I’d start to drift off.

  Maybe even more than that, I fretted over her safety. I felt the need to protect her from wild, intoxicated guests at parties, an enemy of mine—even myself. No matter that the thought of doing anything to harm her churned my gut, I still struggled with the idea that I might have to.

  Goddamn, I fucking hated it.

  Which was exactly how I’d come to justify listening to her while she basked in the illusion of privacy—to save her from herself.

  If I heard her before she did something, if she gave an indication that she might tell someone, I might be able to stop her before she did it. Because once a trespass was fully committed, the line was absolute—I’d have to remove the risk, and in turn, her.

  I could hear the rustle of her cat, Deena, as she rubbed against this and that in her apartment. But otherwise, sheer silence buzzed for a full minute.

  I was just about to lose my patience when the scratch of Alex’s key in the lock sounded into my apartment, followed by the creak of her door and a sharp slam as she let it fal
l back into the jamb.

  “Did you miss me, sassy pants?” she asked her cat, two soft thumps echoing into the silence—her shoes hitting the ground, I suspected.

  “Oh, hush. There’s already food in your bowl. Why do you think you need more? Because you’re a diva? Is that why?”

  I shook my head and smiled as I pictured her outfit from the night before, and what she must have looked like scolding her cat in it.

  “Fine. You can have food. But if I give it to you, you have to promise to let Mommy sleep in in the morning. Do you think you can do that?”

  Two sharp meows rang out in response.

  “Okay. But if you go back on your promise…” She paused to sigh. “Nothing will happen to you because you’re a cat and I’m willingly subject to your rule.”

  I heard her scooping food and then a small tinkle as the kibble fell into Deena’s bowl.

  “There,” she said. “I hope you’re satisfied.” Her voice dropped to a mumble. “At least one of us should be tonight.”

  She isn’t doing anything, I told myself. She’s doing nothing more than talking to her cat.

  The tight squeeze in my chest eased slightly as I heard the mic switch from the one in her main living space to the one in her bedroom.

  The light patter of her steps as she disrobed and the soft whoosh of the water in her bathroom as she brushed her teeth solidified it for me. Maybe others would take more to convince, but a part deep inside of me was certain.

  Alex was in Wonderland. Fully immersed and willing, she was along for the glorious ride.

  Silence descended over the recording as she fell into sleep, I surmised. It was nearly four in the morning by the time she’d returned from the party, and I suspected she wouldn’t be doing much of anything but sleeping for the rest of the day.

  I was just about to stop listening when I noticed the file went on for another two hours.

  Why in the fuck would they send me a recording of her sleeping?

  I jumped the file forward by an hour and heard nothing, so I tried again, this time only moving thirty minutes.

  “Uh…oh God…mmm,” she moaned into the otherwise quiet space of her bedroom—and thanks to modern technology and a slight time delay, out into the midmorning stillness of my kitchen, catching me off guard.

  “Good Christ,” I muttered. Is she touching herself?

  “Yeah, oh yeah. Just like that,” she cooed, the normally delicate lilt of her voice deeper with a seductive edge.

  Fucking hell. She is.

  My cock started to harden, and yet, at the same time, I felt sick. I wasn’t invited to this show, certainly, but I had at least touched her, smelled her, felt her intimately.

  The guys in IT who’d listened to this before me had not.

  “Matt,” she groaned, her voice higher, tighter, right on the edge of climax.

  Goddamn, she’s moaning my name.

  I fucking loved the sound of it. But once again, and what’s more, I fucking hated the idea of other people hearing it.

  I stopped the recording and backed out of it quickly, going right to my recent calls and dialing Cal, my anger building.

  “Yo,” Cal answered.

  “You go down to IT yourself, and you fucking wipe everything they have of Alex in her apartment. I mean all of it. If it’s not all gone, I swear to God, if one goddamn moment of her in there leaks, I’m holding you responsible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Thank fuck someone in this business knew when not to fuck with me.

  I’d barely hung up when three sharp knocks rang through the thick wood of my apartment door.

  None of my ire had faded by the time I made it to the door. If anything, every moment I thought about Alex touching herself while other people listened only built it.

  I glanced briefly through the peephole to find Harrison March’s slightly fish-eye distorted face looking back at me.

  With a quick flick of my wrist, I turned the knob and pulled open the door, stopping it by placing a hand around the edge of it at the top.

  “What?”

  “Wow. Something has you in a bad mood.”

  Unwilling to share, I jumped straight into something that actually was his business.

  “What’s going on with King? Why’s Eric in another meeting with him today?” I asked. “For some reason, he’s taken it upon himself to call last-minute meetings with our most important client. Can you explain what in the fuck is going on to me?” I didn’t know what Eric Queen was trying to pull, but my suspicions had been raised. It was why I’d recently had Cal keep an eye on his whereabouts.

  Hare shrugged, nonplussed by my lack of pleasantries. I supposed he was used to it. In most situations, I wasn’t prone to wasting time on bullshit. “As far as Spade and Diamond knew, it was something about the software.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck does King need to know anything about the software? We play him, not the other way around.”

  There was no need or benefit from Eric Queen meeting with King while we were trying to execute a plan that would lead to a multimillion-dollar return on our money. We had a lot on the line with this one. And despite our wealth of connections and carefully calculated networks, it was still risky as fuck. All that Charles King needed to do was focus on looking pretty for the cameras and keeping the public and his fellow politicians motivated to give him the presidential nom.

  What he didn’t need was to be brought in for fucking tea parties and gossip sessions. That’s not how Wonderland, Inc. handled business, and Eric fucking knew it. Politicians could be slimy, fickle fucks, and even though the end game was to get him the nomination, the less Charles King knew, the better.

  I scowled against the bitter taste the unknowns left in my mouth.

  “I don’t know, boss. I might be wrong. I’m just relaying some very disjointed information.”

  Aggravated, my voice turned gritty. “Yeah, Hare, I know. And that’s the fucking problem. Do I look like the kind of guy who likes his information to be disjointed?”

  Goddamn. I needed to calm down before my heart exploded in my chest.

  He didn’t answer my very obviously rhetorical question.

  “Fucking exactly. Find out why Eric keeps meeting with him, and find out what the fuck he’s told him. The only people who should know fuck all about what we’re doing are us and the people actually coding the shit. You hear me?”

  He jerked his head up, just once, his jaw hard.

  Spade and Diamond, and probably fucking Bobby Hart because the three of them stuck together like glue, were going to be having a pretty uncomfortable conversation with Harrison soon. Nobody liked to look like an idiot, but Harrison March loathed it with a specific intensity.

  I was no longer the only angry person in the room.

  MY PHONE VIBRATED IN MY back pocket, and I discreetly checked my messages.

  Aunt Delores: Just before they had to strip-search me. I guess that’s why they call it The Strip, huh? ;)

  I stared down at the text and the obscene photo of my smiling aunt standing between two half-naked police officers. Obviously, they weren’t police officers, but Vegas’s version of street entertainment.

  I shook my head on a laugh as I stepped into the private confines of the kitchen and sent her a quick response.

  Me: I thought you were in Vegas with your church group?

  Aunt Delores: I am.

  Me: So…I take it you’re preaching the Word of the Lord to those half-naked cops?

  Aunt Delores: Hell, no. I did my church duty earlier today at a soup kitchen not far from the Strip. I’m currently ogling these fine men’s asses.

  Me: Jesus would be so proud.

  Aunt Delores: Smartass. Anyway, we’re about to head to MGM Grand to play the penny slots. I just wanted to say hello and see how everything was going? When are you going to pay me a visit?

  Me: Everything is going great. And, you kind of have to be home for me to visit…

  Now t
hat I wasn’t strapped for cash, I could easily afford a short trip to visit my aunt in San Diego. The only dilemma was that her little church group appeared to be hitting up Vegas quite a bit this summer—aka the woman was never home.

  Aunt Delores: I guess you have a point, huh? LOL. How about you keep September in mind? I don’t think the girls and I have any church trips planned.

  See what I mean? First it was August, and now we were looking at September.

  I didn’t mind, though. I was just happy to see that my aunt was living and enjoying her life.

  Me: Sounds good. Love you.

  I hit send and slipped my phone back into my pocket before heading back out to the party.

  Only a week had passed since Justin Wilkes’s party and Matt had left me glassy-eyed and wanting more. God, I’d wanted more that night. I’d wanted everything he could give. But he didn’t feed my craving. Instead, he did the opposite and left me painfully aware that the big, bad, and sexy as fuck man had successfully tattooed himself onto my brain.

  I shouldn’t have been fixated. Curious as fuck. But I was. Despite the unknowns, despite the risks that most likely lay below the surface, I still wanted more.

  It was crazy…right?

  I mean, I knew it was crazy to want a man like Matt Hadder. He was a beast, and I might as well have been a newborn baby kitten. Ruthless, savage, the man lived a life that was well beyond the mediocrity of mine.

  But although he had a brutal reputation, ever since that first day I’d met him, he’d never done anything but create opportunities for me. The un-eviction. The new apartment. A job that paid me more for one party than most people made in an entire month. His generosity, no matter the motivation for it, made it impossible to separate in order to paint an all-or-nothing picture.

  He wasn’t all bad. And he wasn’t all good. He was Matt.

  Somehow, I’d fallen down, down, down the rabbit hole into his world. And along the way, a switch had been flipped, and something inside of me had changed. Slowly, I found myself finding closure in things like Vinnie Pat’s death and being moved in to the same building as Matt and the fact that my landlord wasn’t even a landlord, but one of Matt’s men, otherwise known as Mickey Moosa.