First Taste: A Collection of Hot Alpha Doms

by Sidney Bristol

  “Stay tonight?” she asked.

  “Course.” He turned in her embrace, flattening his palms against her shoulders, bringing their bodies flush together. “I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.”

  He didn’t trust her on her own yet. Or maybe it was more about the person after her. Another cop. Whatever the reason, she’d take it. She needed him more than she needed her pride right now.

  Jacques ducked his head and took her mouth, suckling her lower lip between his. She sighed and leaned into his chest.

  She’d take him. Every delicious inch.

  Jacques swept her up in his arms and laid her out on the bed, dark intent in his gaze, but his caress was soft. His mouth whispered down her neck, over her collarbone and to her breasts.

  Finally!

  Odalia arched her back as he took one peak into her mouth and sucked. She moaned and gripped his shoulder, digging her nails in. He switched breasts, suckling the other while his fingers continued to play her body, lower and lower.

  She spread her legs, cradling his lower body between her thighs.

  Jacques slid lower, nipping at the taut flesh across her stomach.

  Oh, he wouldn’t…

  He was.

  Odalia gasped as Jacques blew a hot breath of air across her pussy. She fisted the sheets and moaned, free to be as loud as she fucking pleased here. She hadn’t had neighbors in almost a year. It was as private as she could get without owning land and a house.

  He parted her folds and gently flicked her clit back and forth.

  She kicked her legs, her feet slipping as she tried to find purchase. His weight kept her pinned, not that she had anywhere else she’d want to be.

  Jacques wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. Her back arched, and she panted. Her muscles were supple, her body so warmed up that each flick of his tongue brought about ripples in her core.

  “Oh, God.” She gasped as the first wave of pleasure swept over her, rising as if from her toes to the crown of her head and back again.

  He continued to lap at her. The devil knew how easily she orgasmed, and now he tormented her with it, keeping her on the swell of the wave, going and going. Her whole body vibrated from the inside out until she keened, almost screaming.

  “Stop, stop, stop, please,” she chanted, unsure if she meant it or if she deserved more torment.

  Jacques relented, stroking her folds until the shuddering stopped and her breathing returned to something resembling normal. He rested his face against her hip, watching her. Without a word spoken, he crawled up her body and cupped her face.

  How could a man who kicked ass be so tender? Sure, he’d thrown her on her butt and given her a good flogging, but she’d needed to be taken in hand. She’d needed him. It was an odd sensation, to need someone again when she hadn’t in ages.

  Odalia lifted her head off the pillow and kissed him. He eased his weight down onto her, clasping her hands and holding her immobile.

  “I want you in me,” she whispered when their lips parted.

  Jacques nodded and stood. Before he could do more than tab open his jeans, Odalia sat up and pushed his hands out of the way. He allowed it, and she unzipped him the rest of the way. She glanced up at him as she hooked her thumbs in the band of his boxers, pulling the remaining clothing down as she went.

  She followed the path of the denim, caressing his bulging thigh muscles and down to his calves.

  Jacques stepped out of the discarded clothing and pushed her back. He grabbed his wallet and withdrew a condom, ever the Boy Scout. He ripped it out and rolled the latex on while she watched. She was almost jealous it wasn’t her hands caressing his stiff flesh.

  He crawled back onto the bed and hoisted her left leg up over his arm, opening her up to him.

  Odalia reached above her for the wooden slats and held on, her breath coming faster as Jacques notched the head of his cock against her pussy. He thrust and slid into her slick channel. She moaned, feeling the soreness from the rough fucking that morning deep in her muscles. Those were the kind of marks that didn’t show, but she savored them more than anything.

  Jacques hoisted her leg higher and pressed deeper. She tossed her head back as her delicate muscles hugged him tight.

  Unlike that morning, his motions were slow, controlled, driving her pleasure. He had one hand planted on the bed next to her shoulder, the other around her leg. She could feel his gaze on her body, tracing the lines of the sacred heart tattooed on her chest.

  “Oh, fuck,” she groaned as the first ripple went through her pussy.

  “That’s it,” he rumbled.

  “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her voice rose to a scream as pleasure crested, cascading over her and pulling her under.

  Jacques continued to slide in and out, in no hurry at all to find his own climax. Her spine bowed, she dug her nails into his thigh with one hand and grounded herself to the bed with the other. “Fuck! Jac—Jacques, fuck me.”

  She could hear Creature whimper and scratch at the door, but she had no presence of mind to even consider her dog.

  Odalia dug her nails in harder as another wave of climax battered her, stronger than before, assaulting her hypersensitive nerves. Pleasure reached the point of almost pain, her nerves stretching tight, the sensations too much.

  Jacques thrust hard and froze, the tendons on either side of his neck standing out and his lips parted in a silent shout. For a moment neither moved.

  He collapsed forward, letting her leg drop to the bed as he gathered her to him and rolled to their sides.

  She shuddered as his cock slid from her pussy.

  For several seconds they lay facing each other, catching their breath and not speaking.

  Jacques moved first, rolling off the bed and shambling into the bathroom. She roused herself long enough to make the rounds of the room, blowing out the candles before opening the door to reassure Creature she was not in fact dying a horrible death.

  The pit bull waggled his whole body, sniffing her legs and thighs, giving her adoring licks she didn’t want at the moment.

  Jacques opened the bathroom door and paused, chuckling at either her or the dog, she didn’t know.

  “Done?” she asked.

  “All yours.” He stepped back, and she slid into the bathroom.

  Odalia put her back against the door and blew out a breath.

  The woman who stared back at her had rosy cheeks and a few marks on her breasts and arms. She grinned at her reflection as she cleaned up and paused long enough to brush her teeth and run a washcloth over her face.

  By the time she returned to the bedroom, both Jacques and Creature had settled onto the bed, leaving a little sliver for her. She didn’t bother with clothes and slid in where there was space, snuggling closer to the big man hogging her little bed.

  “Mmm.” He wrapped his arm around her and threw a leg over her thighs. The light from the windows fell on his face, though most of it was shrouded in shadow. He brushed his thumb across her lips. “How’d a girl like you get so kinky?”

  Odalia blew out a breath. Did they have to have this conversation?

  “I was dating this guy who was way too smart for me. Doctoral student for psychology or something. Anyway, I was having…intimacy issues.” Odalia locked the door on those memories and focused on the sweet man who’d done his best to help her. “I liked him fine, but we’d go to doing more and I’d freeze up. His solution was to do a power exchange dynamic because he’d read it in one of his textbooks. Anyway, it might have worked if he had a more dominant personality. I liked it, but he didn’t do it for me. It caused a lot of issues between us. We split, but during the whole thing, my patrol partner at the time dragged it out of me and turns out he’s kinky as a cheap garden hose.”

  “You mean another cop introduced you to kink?” He leaned away from her, his face a combination of disbelief and humor.

  “Yeah.” She chuckled and snuggled in deeper to the pillows.

  “Did kink h
elp you?” he asked, the question she didn’t want to answer floating under the surface.

  Faces, memories she wanted to forget, flashed in her mind. There was no way these past demons would leave her be. She had to live with them, and kink had given her a way to work through it. In the beginning, within the confines of bondage and the ways her Dominants pushed her, she was able to express emotions she otherwise would have kept hidden. They’d accepted her baggage, the marks left on her soul, and she’d moved beyond that phase. Now kink had grown to fit her life, a fun, pleasurable pastime, instead of being a persistent need.

  “Yeah. It did. What about you?”

  It was the conversation every kinkster in the BDSM community had at one point, sort of like the basic getting-to-know-you. The reasons people dove in were different, but ultimately they were all a bunch of sexual adventurers, willing to try something new.

  “It’s always been who I was, bébé.” And, for some people, it was that simple.

  She rested her head on his chest, the sense of completeness swaddling her, wrapping around them.

  Chapter Four

  Odalia stepped over the threshold of the Midnight Ink tattoo shop and inhaled the unique aroma of ink, lemon-scented cleaner and the human element. The buzz of several tattoo machines and the sounds of hard rock washed over her, calling to her, Come, sit, feel my needle.

  “Hey, cop lady,” the shop manager, Sassy, called out. She peered over the desk. “Did you bring my lover boy? Hey, Creature.”

  “I think you’re happier to see my dog than you are me.”

  Jacques’ hand at the small of her back urged her forward. She let Creature lead her to the front desk while Jacques took up a position by the shop windows.

  Creature strained against the leash as Sassy sashayed around the desk and went to a knee, the hem of her denim skirt riding up to reveal the lace band of her stockings. The bangles on her arms chimed as she scratched the attention-whore of a dog all over, speaking gibberish to him.

  “You look like you could use a cup of coffee. Late night?” Sassy’s grin threatened to split her face as she winked.

  “Two, one for each hand, if you have any around.” Odalia rested her hip against the desk and nodded to one of the other artists striding by. She’d spent hours in here getting tattooed. The shop felt like another home.

  “You into the dark chocolate now?” Sassy glanced meaningfully at Jacques, clearly not discussing coffee anymore. “I like mine with a scoop of ice cream. That voice, it could melt things,” Sassy whispered as she straightened.

  “I’ve always had a thing for dark chocolate. That’s nothing new.” Odalia’s nerves were wrung tight, twisted all in knots around the man. What was it about him? He wasn’t the first black man she’d been with, but when she looked at him, she didn’t see his job, skin color or lineage—she saw the man who made her breathless, nervous and empowered.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Rosie Gallagher, one of the shop artists and Odalia’s friend, yelled over the din. Her gaze skipped over Odalia and landed on Jacques. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

  Shit.

  “I’ll get that coffee. Creature, want to come with me?” Sassy took the leash from Odalia, and they trotted off together, hopefully for that coffee.

  “Hey.” Odalia turned to the pint-sized woman and smiled. Rosie was one of the rare women she could call a friend in all walks of her life. Odalia credited the artist with introducing her to the dungeon scene at the Bastille.

  “Jacques?” Rosie pitched her voice low, peering around Odalia with one brow raised.

  “Uh…yeah.” Heat rose on her cheeks. Of course Rosie would recognize him. They were all card-carrying dungeon members.

  Rosie’s brows nearly disappeared under her bangs. “I like. When did this happen?”

  “I’m not even sure it’s happening.” She rolled her eyes, savoring the giddy, nervous sensations. It was a welcome distraction from everything else. Odalia dug an envelope out of her pocket and handed it over. “I got the royalty check in from the magazine.”

  “You must like him if you’re avoiding the topic.” Rosie pocketed the envelope without glancing at it.

  “When do you have time to do that voodoo love charm tattoo?” Odalia asked, ignoring the statement. She wasn’t ready to name this thing between her and Jacques. Spending the night in his arms again had done things to her, deep in her chest. Things she couldn’t bring herself to talk about yet.

  “Someone’s got a crush,” Rosie said in a sing-song voice.

  “I’m done talking to you.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You guys going to Bastille?”

  “Don’t know,” Odalia replied.

  Rosie snorted and gave her a don’t-shit-me grin. Odalia glared, but there was no heat there. She wanted this thing with Jacques to work, but she couldn’t pin all her hopes on him, not until he said something. It wasn’t as though she was hiding anything from him.

  Sassy strode through the shop, two steaming cups of her amazing coffee in hand, followed by Creature.

  “Here you are, two wake-me-ups. Don’t hog them.” Sassy winked again.

  “You guys going to hang out for a bit?” Rosie asked.

  “No, bounty hunter stuff to do.” Odalia sipped the coffee and sighed. Perfect.

  “Sounds exciting. Are there handcuffs involved?” Rosie’s brow arched.

  “Shut up. I’ll see you.”

  Odalia crossed to Jacques’ side and offered him a cup of coffee. His gaze was too intent on the street to be people-watching.

  “What is it?” she murmured.

  “Blue car’s following us. I think it’s the same one from yesterday, but the plates are different.” He sipped the coffee and nodded toward the door. “Let’s see if it’s us they’re after.”

  Odalia didn’t like the idea of being bait. It was like allowing herself to be a victim, but sometimes you had to stick your neck out there.

  “Let’s do this.”

  JACQUES PAUSED IN FRONT OF A SHOP displaying antique silver pieces and a large mirror. The blue sedan had moved closer, again. Each time they walked another block, the car followed but kept at least twenty or thirty yards between them.

  “I hate this,” Odalia muttered.

  He resisted the urge to chuckle. She was all action and energy. If it weren’t directed at a crooked cop, he’d be enchanted by it.

  “Tell me about yourself.” He took her hand, now free from the coffee cups they’d discarded a block back, and threaded their fingers together. It felt right, this organic connection lacing them together.

  Odalia blinked at him a few times, her brow furrowed. “What to tell… born and raised in New Orleans. I’m a cop. End of story.”

  Jacques snorted. “Unlikely, bébé.”

  He could almost hear her teeth grinding together.

  “Fine, I was born here, Mom left Dad and me when I was a little girl, and I grew up with him working night shifts, odd jobs and taking charity when we could get it. I got through school, wasn’t doing much with myself,” she took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for something, “and then Katrina happened. Dad died. It was the worst time in my life, trapped in our house with my dad needing to be rescued, and we couldn’t get out.”

  Jacques stopped walking and pulled them into a sheltered doorway, out of the foot traffic. He’d expected some rough knocks in her past, but he remembered paddling from house to house searching for people. How many scenes like hers had he stumbled across?

  Was this also the source of the darkness he’d sensed from her last night? There was a story there he doubted she was ready to tell him, and he wouldn’t press her. In her own time, if he was lucky, she’d trust him with it.

  Odalia shook her head and scratched Creature. “I know the police get shit on a lot for what happened after Katrina, but they did right by us, and I joined the academy first chance I got.” She tipped her head back and stared him in the eye. “Anything else?”

 
You’re amazing, strong, courageous, beautiful. The string of words rattled off in his head, and what he wouldn’t give for a camera to capture the raw emotion on her face. The stark honesty.

  He dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers.

  Did she know how inspiring she was?

  “Where’s the car?” she whispered against his lips.

  He grinned and glanced past her. Smart, bébé. “Still a block and a half back. I’m thinking there’s a café down the street. I’m going to go out the back. You keep walking. I’ll circle around and try to come at him from behind.”

  “Let’s go.” She turned and, hand-in-hand, they strolled down the street.

  He stared down at her dark head for a moment, still a little in awe of her resilience. It stirred more than just desire in his chest. Respect. He wanted her to know more about him as well, and not just the pretty parts. She should be aware of his baggage. He didn’t come with the best connections.

  “My parents are residents of the state pen. Last I heard, my older brother was petitioning for a room there on grounds of running drugs up the bayou, and my sister is trying to single-handedly populate Louisiana. I was raised by my mamère. She kept me out of trouble, pointed me toward schooling and doing right.” His story wasn’t as painful as Odalia’s. Sure, his family history was tarnished, but he’d known what his family was from a young age and stayed away from it.

  “She sounds like a good woman.”

  “Mamère was. She helped people until the day she died.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be. She had a long, happy life and passed in her sleep, surrounded by the family she chose.” He could still remember the hymns sung on the porch as her last breath left her body. It was as if he could see the light snuffed out, her soul traveling to the great beyond. He missed her, but her spirit was with him.

  “I never knew my grandparents.” Odalia glanced up at him.

  They were two lost souls.

  “Ready?” she asked him.

  For her? Never, but he wasn’t about to let go of a good thing.

  Oh wait—