Filthy Dirty Alpha

by Grace Morgan

  It was a print from the Leonor Fini’s illustrated edition of The Story of O, full of dreamy, tortured watercolors whose soft edges somehow perfectly captured the violent beauty of the passionate story. In it, O, naked except for her stockings and heels, was chained to the wall by her neck. She leaned forward, her wrists bound in front of her, as René raised his crop to strike her again. The skin of her thighs and ass was mottled and red, but the image projected lust and desire, not anguish.

  Lola stood, transfixed. Quietly, I walked up behind her, so close that I could smell the fresh, tropical scent of her shampoo.

  “That’s one of my favorites.”

  She spun around, her breasts pressing up against my chest, looking up at me through her long, dark lashes.

  “She looks…” Her voice trailed off.

  “She’s outside of herself,” I said. “She’s not thinking about anything but the bite of the leather crop on her tender, stinging skin, how the sharp crack it makes is almost more difficult to endure than the pain itself. And how eventually, she’ll lose herself in that pain and feel only relief.”

  Lola swallowed. “I would imagine it would be hard to concentrate on anything else.”

  “Believe me, it is.”

  Looking down at Lola, her face tipped up toward mine, her bottom lip full and inviting, I couldn’t stop myself. No, that wasn’t it. I had no fucking interest in stopping myself. I needed to know her taste. I leaned forward and covered her mouth with mine, reveling in the way she melted under me, her lips going from pursed and tense with surprise, to soft and accommodating, seeking me out. The kiss was gentle and exploratory at first, but then her hand reached down and brushed against my cock, and my need burned hotter. I pulled her roughly against me, my mouth searching hers, learning her warm, sweet flavor. I took her bottom lip between my teeth, gently sucking and flicking it with the tip of my tongue. Lola moaned and rubbed her hips against my cock. She was losing herself in the sensation, already letting go of precious shreds of her control. I indulged for another moment before nipping her bottom lip.

  She gasped and pulled back, touching her swollen lip where my teeth had pressed into it. But her hips were still pressed against me, and I could see the intrigue in her eyes.

  I reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Right now, you can stop and think about what you’re feeling, about how far you’ve been pushed. You can evaluate it and analyze it and whatever other bullshit you need to do to understand it. But next time, I’m not going to let you step out of the moment. You’re going to have to keep going, keep feeling that sensation until it gets so powerful that you won’t be able to contain it.”

  Lola took a shaky breath and straightened her shoulders. “Thanks for the warning,” she said.

  She walked past me, through the door at the end of the hall. I followed her into the bedroom, consciously stopping myself from reaching out to put my hands on her waist. She’s here because I want to fuck her, not make her my girlfriend, I reminded myself.

  Her gaze traveled over the king-sized bed with its immaculate grey sheets before moving on to the floor-to-ceiling windows framed by heavy light-blocking curtains, and the perfectly restored mid-century dresser, topped with a set of rocks glasses and a decanter of bourbon. She looked back at me expectantly.

  “So where am I going to sleep?”

  “Alice just changed the bedding this afternoon. You should be more than comfortable,” I told her.

  One of Lola’s eyebrows arched with amusement. “And you’ll be on the couch, I assume?”

  I snorted. “Not a chance in hell. Why would I sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly comfortable bed?”

  Lola’s gaze sharpened.

  “I still haven’t agreed to sleep with you.”

  I reached over, took her suitcase from her, and placed it on the bench at the foot of the bed.

  “We’ll see,” I said. I had no doubt I’d have her gripping the sheets while she screamed my name in ecstasy, but part of the fun was getting her to that point. “Right now,” I continued, “I’m fucking famished. And I’d love some company, if you’d like to join me for dinner.”

  She looked surprised, and I knew that my simple offer had taken her aback. Good. It was about time she was the one off balance here. I decided to push her a little further.

  “First you might want to change into something a bit more…appropriate. Afterward, you can see the club in action.”

  “Appropriate? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re mine for thirty days, and normally, my women dress to make sure my cock is hard every time I look at them. I think they want to be sure they’ve got my full attention. If you don’t think you’re up to it, then feel free to keep wearing what you’ve got on.”

  I walked out of the room before she could respond to my challenge, but I was gratified to hear her sputter a bit as I closed the door behind me. Let her get herself good and worked up. It would make the rest of the evening much more entertaining.

  * * *

  Lola’s heels clicked on the floor before she entered the dining room. My pulse quickened, and I took a sip of cabernet. This wasn’t a goddamn date. Yes, I was attracted to her, and yes, I wanted to teach her that there was more to a sexual relationship than she’d been exposed to in her vanilla life. But I could do both while I kept an eye on her investigation into Hope’s disappearance. Business and a healthy dose of pleasure—but no emotions.

  And then Lola stepped through the doorway.

  A tight red skirt hit just above her knees. I barely suppressed a groan. On another woman it might have looked conservative, but on Lola it clung perfectly to her ass and hips, highlighting her curves. Her toned legs were displayed perfectly, courtesy of the slits in either side of the skirt and the black fuck-me heels she wore. Her top skimmed low over her high, round breasts. I wanted to strip both the skirt and blouse off her to inspect her lingerie. I pictured wispy black lace, barely covering her tight, hard nipples. Or maybe smooth satin that shined in the low light when I pushed her up against the wall to take what I wanted from her.

  “You look nice,” I said, and the words came out gruffer than I anticipated.

  Jesus Christ, what are you, eighteen?

  “Does this qualify as more appropriate?” she asked, laying on the sass. She didn’t need to ask; she knew goddamn well her outfit looked hot as fuck. I was going to have a hard enough time getting my cock to behave, I didn’t need her sassy mouth tempting me even more.

  I poured her a glass of wine without answering. “I hope you’re not one of those Chardonnay-with-ice-cubes kind of women.”

  “And what if I am? I thought you weren’t going to tell me what to eat,” she replied, smirking.

  “That’s different. Icing down wine is a fucking tragedy.”

  Lola took the glass. “Well, lucky for you, I would never dream of icing down my wine. Though I do prefer my bourbon on the rocks.” She took a sip without breaking eye contact, her red painted lips caressing the rim of the glass, leaving a scarlet impression against the crystal. Fuck she was sexy.

  “I had Julian bring in dinner from Alighieri’s. Veal marsala along with rosemary roasted potatoes, and green beans amandine. Oh, and their tiramisu. It’s the best in the city.”

  And the most expensive.

  I waited for the look of recognition, but instead she just gazed at me, nonplussed.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked her. “Their food is excellent. You’ll like it.”

  Lola put her wine glass down very deliberately. “Thank you for the reassurance, but I’ve actually eaten there before. You’re right, it is excellent.”

  “Then we’d better eat before it gets cold.” I was starting to get annoyed, though I didn’t want to admit to myself that I’d been hoping for her to be more impressed. I usually didn’t have to work so hard to impress a female.

  “Well if you’d bothered to ask me anything before just ordering the most
expensive thing on the menu, you’d know I’m a vegetarian.”

  I sighed. Of-fucking-course she is. Somehow, no matter what I did, Lola found a way to shift the ground under my feet. It just made me even more determined to win her submission.

  “I think we’re going to need more wine,” I said, topping off both our glasses. “I’ll send Julian out for a salad. Or whatever it is you eat.”

  “No, I don’t want him to have to do that.” She smiled at me slyly. “But I’m eating all of those potatoes and green beans.”

  “Fair. I might have some bread in the kitchen. Hold on.”

  I made my way to the kitchen and retrieved a loaf of French bread and olive oil before setting it in front of her. She looked up and me and gave me a genuine smile. “Thank you. Everything looks delicious.”

  Sitting down at the table, I raised my glass in a toast. Lola followed suit.

  “To the next thirty days,” I said.

  “And whatever they reveal,” she added, gently clinking her glass against mine.

  We each took a sip. I swallowed the lush and velvety wine as I studied her. The woman was a puzzle, and I was determined that the next thirty days would reveal more about her than anything else.

  “So tell me,” Lola said, leaning in toward me so her breasts spilled over her neckline—the display making it hard to concentrate on what she was saying. “How did you and Carter end up owning a sex club?”

  Of course she’d start there. Curious little reporter. She was going to get her ass spanked if she wasn’t careful, but for now I’d play twenty questions. “Carter and I grew up together. We met in prep school, became friends, and ended up choosing the same college. After we graduated, neither one of us was drawn to the traditional business world, so we decided to try something a little … unorthodox.”

  “But a sex club? How did that even come up?”

  I took a sip of my wine. “Are you sure you want to hear this? I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

  “That would be a lot more convincing if I couldn’t see how much you enjoyed offending my sensibilities.”

  I laughed. “Fair enough. In college, Carter spent a semester in Berlin. I went to visit him. He had a German girlfriend. Fucking gorgeous. Long blonde hair, huge blue eyes. Tits like a goddess. And one night I came back to the apartment earlier than they expected.” I paused and took a bite of my dinner, trying to gauge her reaction.

  “And? What were they doing?” Lola asked, her eyes wide.

  A bit of a voyeuristic streak, Miss Lola? Interesting. She might have thought she was leading this conversation, but I was playing her like a fiddle.

  “She was wearing this tiny black dress and stiletto boots that came up over her knees. Carter had her bent over the table. She was moaning and gasping, so hungry for the cock pounding into her that she didn’t even notice me. But Carter did.”

  “What happened?” she asked. Her voice was breathy and her wine sat forgotten on the table. “I was about to walk out, but Carter shook his head. He wanted me to stay and watch while he fucked her.”

  “Had you ever done anything like that before?” Lola asked. I had a sudden vision of her with that sexy red skirt pushed up, bent over the dinner table, begging for me to fuck her harder and faster. Just give it time, I promised myself. It’s going to fucking happen.

  “Watching isn’t my usual MO,” I said. “But I’d always been interested in kink, especially bondage and dominance. Once I found out that Carter had a thing for exhibitionism, it just took off from there.”

  “Wow…that’s…” Lola’s skin flushed beautifully, and I wanted to see her cheeks brighten further.

  “He fucked her, smacked her ass, and made her cry out his name until she came.”

  “So did you have sex with her too?” I heard what I hoped was a hint of jealousy in her voice.

  “Not that night,” I replied. “But yes, I fucked her. She had a submissive streak, and Carter never had much interest in playing the role of Dominant. We experimented together. She was the first woman I ever tied up.”

  “What was it like?” With every question, Lola’s voice grew more breathless. I knew that if I slid my hand up her skirt, I’d find her panties soaked. If she’d worn panties.

  I took a slow sip of my wine and forced the thought away. I’d have her over the table in five seconds flat if I let myself continue down that mental path. “For someone who claimed to be uninterested in kink, you certainly ask a lot of questions about it.”

  Lola tossed her hair indignantly. “I’m a reporter. It’s my job to ask questions.”

  “If you say so,” I said. “As to your, ah, journalistic question, it was like nothing else I’d ever experienced. The first time I knotted that rope around her wrists, I got harder than I’d ever been before. Watching the perfect, pale skin of her ass turn red when I laid her over my knee and spanked her was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.”

  I wondered if Lola knew that as I was speaking, she had begun to once again trail her fingers down her neck and along the top of her breasts. She had done it in the Watching Room too. Well, well, Lola had a tell when she was turned on. I decided to run with it.

  “It’s getting late. Things should be heating up downstairs. I think it’s time for a more … detailed tour.” As I spoke, I dropped my hand under the table, and ran my hand along the slit in her skirt, grazing her thigh. For just a moment, she closed her eyes and her legs opened slightly. My cock hardened. Again. With effort, she regained control over her reactions, carefully folding her napkin and placing it on the table.

  “That sounds perfect,” she said, but there was a hint of apprehension in her voice.

  “Tonight is just going to be about observing,” I told her. “I want you to understand what goes on here before you participate.”

  A look of relief washed over her face. “Oh. Okay. That’s a good idea,” she said.

  She moved to walk past me into the hallway, but as she did, I grabbed her wrist. “But Lola,” I said, looking her dead in the eye, “make no mistake—by the end of your time here, you’re going to be begging me to participate.”

  * * *

  The dim, golden lights in the hallway cast warm shadows on the carpet and walls as people made their way from room to room, speaking in hushed voices—or not at all. Lola’s eyes grew round as a woman in black leather walked past, leading a man by a leash clipped to the collar wrapped around his throat. In his mouth was a round, red ball gag that fastened behind his head. He kept his gaze on the ground as the woman ushered him into the dungeon with a quick snap of her crop to the back of his bare thighs.

  “Isn’t that…” Her voice trailed off.

  “It is,” I said. “He’s been a regular ever since we opened.”

  “And he doesn’t worry that someone might leak it to the press? It would kill his political career.”

  “You’re the press,” I pointed out. “But you’re not going to tell anyone. Neither will any of our other members. It’s why we have such a strict application process. We’re not interested in anyone who’s just here for the shock value.”

  A pair of women walked past us, their long legs encased in fishnet stockings and their fingers entwined. As they passed, one of them made eye contact with Lola. Slowly, she looked her up and down, a small smile curving her dark, full lips. Then they disappeared into the impact play room.

  Without a word, I put my hand on Lola’s back and steered her toward the door. Her long hair brushed against my fingers. Fuck I wanted to wrap it around my fist and tug it down so I could suck the pulse pounding in her delicate, perfect neck. But now wasn’t the time. I felt her take a deep breath as we crossed the threshold into the room.

  There were several scenes playing out in the room. We purposely kept our guest list at Second Circle small, so the club was never crowded, but weekend nights were always our busiest. I saw Lola’s eyes immediately go to the two women we’d seen in the hallway. I understood why—they were s
tunning. Both were tall, but while one was willowy, with long limbs and smooth mahogany skin, her close-cropped hair exposing her shoulders and graceful neck, the other was curvy, her waist accented by a deep red corset that flared out to full hips and a round ass that was barely covered by her short skirt. Her grey eyes were striking against her golden skin, and her hair fell in waves around her shoulders.

  “Do you know them?” Lola asked me.

  “That’s Danielle,” I said, pointing to the darker-skinned woman, “and the one in the corset is Mari. They’ve been visiting us for the last few months.”

  I guided Lola to stand near the wall, where we could watch unobtrusively. Her gaze was fixed on the women as Mari offered her wrists to Danielle, who placed them one by one in the leather cuffs that hung above her head, suspended from the wall by several feet of heavy metal chain. Mari’s arms stretched upward, her breasts pressed against the wall and the elaborate lacing on her corset rising and falling as she breathed deeply, her body already hyper-aware and waiting for the first touch.

  Danielle walked over to the antique steamer trunk we’d converted to a toy closet and considered her options. After a moment, she settled on a broad, heavy wooden paddle. She picked it up, feeling its heft in her hand, and ran her fingers over the smooth grain.

  “Won’t that hurt?” Lola asked, looking worried.

  “Just watch,” I whispered, moving closer behind her and putting my hand on her waist. I felt her body tense, but she didn’t pull away, and after a moment, she relaxed against me.

  It’s cute watching her worry.

  I shook my head. Where had that come from? She was here because she wanted information, and I wanted the challenge. She wasn’t here to complicate my life. I turned my attention back to the scene unfolding in front of me.

  Danielle stood next to Mari, caressing her face almost lovingly.

  “Do you know why you’re here, Mari?” she asked, her voice dangerously sweet.

  “No,” whispered Mari.

  “Do you think it’s fair that you’ve been wearing that corset all night, while we were out for drinks, teasing me by showing off your tits and making me constantly think about how badly I wanted to take you home and fuck you?” Danielle drew the paddle slowly across the back of Mari’s legs, and her muscles jumped.