The Alpha's Assistant & The Dom Next Door

by Michelle Love

  But even if anyone actually believed her, going to the press or the police would be as good as signing her own death warrant.

  As she trudged into her apartment, making sure the deadbolt was on, she realized a hard truth. If Destry ever found her…she had no doubt she would be dead. Why the hell had she come to America? To his home? Was it spite? Was it to hide in plain sight?

  No. Fuck him. It was to pursue her dream of being a radio journalist – to work with Allison – to have something for herself. She had already lost so much because of him… Seeing her parents, for one. She missed them so much and lived for the phone calls to the burner phones she replaced every week. Her friends back in London, her extended family in Mumbai. All of them were out of bounds now, because of the chance Destry might use them to find her. Even at work she used a pseudonym for her writing credits – Sarah Marsh. Something completely unconnected with her real name.

  Noosh lay on her bed, staring sleeplessly at the ceiling. To live under a death threat was still unreal and yet all too real to her. It made her angry, and full of sorrow.

  She rolled onto her side. You know what? I will go the club, and maybe I will fuck some random guy there…because I can Destry. It’ll be my choice. Screw you and your political ambitions. If I hear one – just one story – of you treating another woman like me, I’ll go public, and hang the consequences.

  I will bring your house of cards down, even if it costs me my own life.

  Chapter Three

  Bertie glanced over at his friend. Christo was drinking steadily now, his handsome face set in anger. He had been like this ever since that terrible night at his father’s house, and Bertie was worried. Christo had never been a big drinker, and to see him throw back expensive whiskey as if it were soda was wrong somehow. Between the two of them, Christo was usually the down-to-earth one, the one who would prop up Bertie after a night out, the one who would stop drinking before the hangover set in.

  Now, though, his friend was on a knife’s edge, and Bertie didn’t know how the hell to pull him back from it. He sat up as Christo lurched from the bar stool and staggered towards the door. “Dude, where the hell are you going?”

  “To get laid.” Christo shot back darkly, and Bertie sighed. That was the other thing. Endless women – a different one every night for the last few weeks. Christo waking up in a stranger’s house every time, from which Bertie had to pick him up.

  “Christo, I’m flying to LA in the morning. I won’t be there to pick you up.”

  Christo stopped at the door, turning to gave his friend a sad smile. “You’ve been picking me up too many times, my friend. It’s time you let me fall where I need to, even if it’s the gutter.”

  Bertie was surprised at how lucid, if depressed, his friend sounded. He got up and went to him. “Come on, Christo, let me take you home instead. Get some rest.”

  Christo considered but then shook his head. “It’s okay, Bertie. I’ll go to my club…they know how to put me in a cab. I need to fuck, Bertie. I need to get this rage out somehow, and fucking is the least destructive way I can think of.”

  Bertie sighed. “The women are okay with that?”

  “They just want to fuck too.” Christo, his green eyes sad, looked away from his friend’s scrutiny. “Let me go, Bert. I need to do this my way. I’ll come out of it, I promise.”

  Bertie watched helplessly as Christo walked out of the bar and hailed a cab. Christo was right – the only person who could pull him out of this slump was himself. Bertie almost couldn’t believe this was the result of Christo finally freeing himself from his father. He was so sure that his friend would be celebratory, not depressed. He’d gotten what he wanted, right? So why was he so self-destructive? Had his father’s beating really fucked with his head that much?

  Bertie shook his head and went back to collect his jacket. One thing he knew for sure was this: Christo was right – Bertie had to let him fall before he could begin to help him get back on his feet.

  He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

  Noosh was debating whether to walk into the club confidently, or to simply just throw up. She shivered in the night air despite it being very warm, and then smoothed her dress down for the fourteenth time. “Option one,” she told herself, and lifted her chin, stepping into the club’s entrance. The security man at the door nodded politely to her and opened the door. Noosh thanked him, making sure her voice didn’t shake before walking in.

  A wash of music came over her, and as she walked into the bar area, a thousand different thoughts invaded her mind. Her vision was bombarded by the sights to her left, where a small stage showed people writhing and dancing, all naked and sweaty.

  Okay, she told herself, you expected this. Don’t freak out. Don’t look like a rookie.

  She walked steadily to the bar and sat down. The bartender greeted her – everyone was so polite – and she ordered a cosmopolitan. Sipping her drink, she took her time to look around.

  At a table in the corner, a woman dressed entirely in latex was blindfolding a man, who was stripped down to his jeans. When he couldn’t see, the woman picked up a candle and dripped hot wax onto his chest – slowly – smiling as he groaned. Other people watched them, but the connection between the two of them was so palpable that Noosh couldn’t look away. The dominatrix caught her eye and smiled. Noosh smiled back.

  The atmosphere of the club surprised her. Unlike the sweaty, handsy feel of the usual Friday night clubs, here was a relaxed, open atmosphere that astonished her. After an hour, she was even enjoying watching what was going, which seemed to be okay by everyone, even if she didn’t join in.

  Noosh had to admit that the overtly open atmosphere was erotic, and when a beautiful woman came up to order a drink at the bar and turned to her, surprising her with a soft kiss on the mouth, Noosh went with it.

  “You’re beautiful,” the woman said, stroking her hands up Noosh’s thighs, “but overdressed. First time?”

  Noosh nodded shyly. The woman, a gorgeous, voluptuous blonde, nodded her head towards the opposite side of the bar, grinning. “There’s a man who has been gazing at you and you alone for an hour. He’s sensational. Go, enjoy.”

  Noosh looked over to where the blonde nodded, and her stomach gave a strange lurch of pure desire. ‘Sensational’ didn’t begin to cover it.

  The man met her gaze. His eyes were bright green, contrasting to great effect with his dark hair and beard, and they burned into Noosh’s. Her body reacted to him immediately; her nipples hardened almost painfully, and her cunt flooded with arousal.

  She couldn’t catch her breath. The man slid from his seat and walked towards her, and Noosh couldn’t move. He was tall, at least a foot taller than her five-five, and as he reached her, he stared down at her, not speaking. For a moment they just gazed at each other, then he bent his head, and his mouth met hers.

  The kiss was soft at first, but as Noosh gave into it, his lips became hungry against hers. Finally, breaking away only because she ran out of oxygen, Noosh felt her entire body tremble uncontrollably. Who was this man?

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head, taking her hand and leading her deeper into the club. Noosh went with him because not doing so was unthinkable. They walked for what seemed like miles, until they reached a locked door. Her companion unlocked it and drew her inside. He didn’t pause as he locked the door before sliding his hands around her waist, kissing her again, pressing his body against hers.

  Noosh tangled her hands in his hair, pulling on the dark curls as she kissed him back, her mind swirling with delirious pleasure. She could feel the hot length of his cock through his pants, pressing against her belly. She moaned slightly at the thought of what they were about to do.

  Her moan seemed to set something off in him, and he tugged down the straps of her dress, exposing her breasts to his mouth. His lips fixed themselves on her nipple, making her gasp. She could feel an orgasm already beginning to build, but she wanted to prolong t
his pleasure as long as she could.

  Tentatively, she snaked her hand down to his fly, unzipping his pants and sliding her hand in, feeling his cock harden against her hand. God, he was huge…

  He was pushing up her skirt then tearing at her underwear, and Noosh felt a desperate need to have him inside her. Her lover rolled a condom quickly down the length of his ram-rod hard cock and then, with a confident thrust, he entered her.

  Noosh gave a shaky gasp as they began to fuck, clawing at each other, kissing as if they wanted to devour each other. He pressed her up against the wall and took her, his arms easily holding her up, his cock driving deeper and deeper into her with every stroke. His eyes never left hers.

  Noosh moaned as he thrust harder, deeper, and for the first time she saw in his eyes anger, rage, and something else…pain. She kissed him fiercely, wanting to take that pain – whatever it was – away.

  But then her eyes were rolling back in her head, and she cried out as her orgasm hit her hard. His free hand was stroking her clit, his mouth on hers…he knew exactly what he was doing.

  With a groan he came too, and they tumbled to the floor. Noosh caught her breath, enjoying the feel of his weight on her. After a moment he sat up, breathing hard. Noosh pulled her dress up and sat by him.

  After a long moment, when she thought he would never say anything, he turned to her. God, he was so beautiful… As he opened his mouth to speak, Noosh couldn’t help but touch his face. It seemed to take him by surprise. She cupped his cheek in her hand, stroking her thumb gently over his skin, taking in every detail of his face. If she never saw him again, she wanted to remember everything.

  The atmosphere changed between them then. No longer did he look like a glowering, dangerously sexual man, but someone vulnerable, tired…sad. He closed his eyes as she stroked his face, leaning into her touch.

  Then he pulled away, pain creasing his handsome face. “Don’t.”

  Stung, Noosh withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

  “We’re here to fuck. Fucking is all I do now.”

  His voice was hard, and he no longer looked at her.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Jesus.” He hissed out the word. “Look, I’m not into schooling newbies. I come here to fuck and be fucked, not to deal with some virgin.”

  He got up and Noosh scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. How had things turned so quickly? “I’m no virgin,” she managed to say, her voice only slightly shaking.

  She glanced around the room and saw a cabinet of paddles, ropes, leather crops, and other toys. She swallowed hard and looked back at him. He was watching her again, glowering from beneath his long, thick lashes. She lifted her chin and deliberately dropped the shoulder straps of her dress, exposing her breasts. “Fuck me again and I’ll show you just how far from a virgin I really am.”

  “No.”

  God, that hurt. She wouldn’t beg this man, this glorious man, whose pain she could see etched across his gorgeous face. But she didn’t want the memory of their coupling sullied by this…whatever this was. What had she done wrong? She pulled the straps of her dress up, taking a deep breath in. She stepped towards him, saw he didn’t back away. “What is it?” She asked him gently. “Why are you in so much pain?”

  “I think you should go. You don’t belong here.”

  “Neither do you.”

  He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Please, just go.”

  With her thighs still aching from the fucking her gave her, Noosh stood her ground. No. She would not walk away. There had been something here, something worth exploring. She knew he felt it too.

  Her lover shook his head. “Get out. Please, just go, I can’t bear this.”

  Her heart gave a sickening lurch. “No. I won’t go.”

  “Please.”

  She stepped forward and reached out to him, but he backed away, his hands curling into tight fists by his side. “Get out…now. While you still can.”

  A thrill of danger went through her. “No.”

  A silence, then he stalked across the room and dragged her to the door. Noosh laid her hands on his chest as she put her back against the door. “No, you don’t get to throw me away like that. Not after that… That was incredible…”

  He closed his eyes. “Please, I’m begging you. Go. Go.”

  “But…”

  “Go!”

  The ferocity of the roar coming from this man, this dangerous man who towered above her, finally broke her resolve. Noosh fumbled for the door handle and opened the door, skittering down the hallway, hearing him slam the door behind her. She raced through the club, not bothering to look at anything else as she took the stairs to the doorway.

  It was only when she stepped – barefoot – out onto the streets of New York City that she realized she was crying.

  The man sat in the car parked opposite the club and smiled to himself. He wondered if he should go over, say hello, help her get home…but that wasn’t why he was here. He had been tasked with finding Anoushka Taylor, and after a tip, he had finally found where she lived. He had to confirm the address was right before he contacted the boss, however, and after seeing her at the club, he’d followed her here. Who knew the girl was into kink? It made his dick hard to think of her like that, but now, seeing her in tears, he realized she must be new to the scene.

  He snickered to himself and pulled out his cell phone. Destry Papps answered on the first ring.

  The man in the car watched Anoushka Taylor hail a cab and smiled into the phone. “Yeah, it’s me. I found her.”

  Chapter Four

  After she’d gone, Christo slumped to the floor, breathing deeply. God, what had he become? Screaming at that girl, that sweet, kind, beautiful girl? And yet, it was her sweetness that had made him react like that. He didn’t deserve her. The way she had touched his face, the way she had seen him…

  “Fuck. Fuck.” He cursed quietly, his head in his hands. Go after her, apologize, beg her to come back. But he knew he couldn’t. The moment he saw her earlier, something had twisted inside him. She was so lovely, her big brown eyes warm and kind, and she looked so lost. He’d wanted to take her in his arms, protect her from the seediness around them, but as soon as he kissed her, something animal had taken over. Making love to her was exhilarating – her voluptuous body curving against his, his cock driving deep into her velvety cunt…it had been an awakening to him. He’d never felt that way with any woman…and it terrified him.

  He tried to stop the sobs that were constricting his chest, but they burst out anyway. What the fuck was happening to him? Bertie was right; he’d gotten what he wanted – away from his father. So why was he so goddamn miserable?

  He let himself cry it out then snagged his phone from his pocket and dialed Bertie. When his friend answered, he just said “Rock bottom.”

  Bertie understood immediately. “Where are you?”

  Christo told him, and Bertie told him to stay there. “I’m coming to get you.”

  In an hour, Christo was on a plane to Arizona where Bertie booked him into rehab.

  Noosh buried herself in her work after that strange, wonderful, terrible night. She’d told Allison she was dropping the story about the BDSM clubs, and although Allison had questioned her about what had happened, Noosh kept it to herself. She felt wrecked by the experience, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about her mercurial lover. Who was he? In moments of weakness, she closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth against hers, his cock thrusting deep inside her. She shivered, the pleasure all still too real for her. But then afterward…

  Stop thinking about him, she told herself now. It’s been a month. You’ll never see him again. She dragged her attention back to the meeting. They were brainstorming ideas for the next year’s stories and so far, Noosh hadn’t heard a thing.

  She blinked and focused on what Allison was saying
. “Something I was thinking about was the next generation of New York’s crime families. A lot of them are eschewing the old life and branching out on their own with legitimate businesses. I’ve heard the reaction from the old timers has been…mixed, to say the least. I’d like to focus in on three or four of the heirs who have broken free.”

  “Any ideas on who and how?” Seth, one of the station’s head honchos, looked interested.

  Allison nodded, her grey eyes serious. “A four-part series. I interview each of them, ask them the hard questions about how they feel about their family mob connections and why they chose to break free. Hang on, I have a list here.” She dug around in her notebook. “Richard Viera, Dominick Octavo, Christofalo Montecito, and Helena De Vito. Those are the names I came up with through very basic research.”

  Seth nodded, and Noosh wrote down the names, glad of something else to concentrate on. “I like your thinking, Ally,” Seth said and nodded at Noosh. “You’ll work together with Allison on this?”

  Noosh smiled gratefully. “Love to.”

  Allison winked at her. “And then, we can’t ignore that it’s election year next year. With any luck, we’ll get the candidates in for an interview.”

  “Will they want to be associated with such a cutting-edge show as yours?” Felix, a snide show runner who loathed Allison and her talent, interjected, but Seth waved his hand.

  “We’ll get the ones who have enough guts, the ones who willingly go on Colbert. They’re the ones we want. Harper, Seagram, Papps – they’re the ones we want – or don’t want, in the case of some of them.”

  “Destry Papps would be a get.” Allison conceded, and Noosh’s heart sank. God, no. She knew instantly she’d be calling in sick the day Destry came into the station. She found that her fingernails were digging into her palm, leaving deep welts, and flexed her fingers.

  After the meeting, she hunkered back down in her cubicle and worked her way through the paperwork, immersing herself in admin work. It was only when Allison came by her desk that she looked at the clock and realized it was past eight p.m.