Filthy Dirty Alpha

by Grace Morgan

  I lashed down my control as her fingers explored me through the fabric. She trailed them along the ridge of the head, and the muscles in my abdomen jumped involuntarily. Curving her palm around my dick, she stroked, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed.

  “I’m wet,” she said, sounding more confident now. With her other hand, she pulled my underwear down, releasing my raging erection. “I’ve never felt so empty in my life. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything so badly. I know you’re going to fill me until I can’t take any more, and I don’t want to wait any longer.” The sight of her hand wrapped around me had my cock swelling even more.

  “I think we’ve both waited long enough.” Grabbing her wrists, I stretched both arms above her head and secured them using the soft cuffs that hung from my bedframe. I seized one ankle, pulling her leg to the lower corner, and tied it down. Then the other. With her legs spread, her pussy was wide open before me, wet and ready. She writhed on the bed, not knowing where my next touch would come from. Her chest heaved with a deep inhale as I tore open a condom wrapper. I unrolled it down my cock and fisted my hand in her underwear, tearing them away without a thought. Positioning myself over her splayed body, I lined up my cock at the opening of her slick, inviting cunt, and stopped.

  “Tell me you want my cock.”

  She lifted her hips, pressing her warm pussy against me. “I want your cock,” she exhaled, breathless.

  Slowly—achingly slowly—I pushed inside, and her inner muscles clamped down tightly around every inch I gave her.

  “Goddammit, Lola,” I swore. “Don’t squeeze me like that. Not yet anyway.”

  She sucked in a breath and released it on a moan, relaxing her muscles around me. Her hips bucked as I sank inside her to the hilt.

  Hot. Wet. Heaven.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Nice and easy. Let me fill you.”

  A little whimpering plea was her only response.

  I held still for a moment, reveling in the sensation, before pulling out and pumping back in. Lola cried out with pleasure, and her every reaction drove my pace. My thrusts quickened, and I fought the tight clasp of her perfect cunt with every movement. Lola tugged at her restraints, her body desperate to move with me, and her helplessness—a symbol of her submission to me—drove me harder, faster, and closer to the edge.

  I reached down to tease her clit as I drove into her, her pussy contracting and clenching as her hips began to buck wildly. She screamed as her orgasm slammed into her, but I didn’t give her a chance to recover.

  “I can’t. I can’t. It’s too much. It’s too good.” she panted as I pounded into her over and over. But even as she said the words, her nipples tightened and another wave of hot, slick heat washed over my cock. Damn, she felt good when she came.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me, Lola. You can take more. You want to come again, don’t you?” I said, cupping her breast and plucking the hard bud of her nipple as I slowed my rhythm, teasing her with just the tip of my cock. She released a shaky breath, and without warning, I plunged into her again, thrusting harder and faster than before. I slipped both hands under her ass, lifting it to the perfect angle as I buried myself deeper inside her, hitting her G spot with every thrust of my cock. Fuck. I loved the view of my shaft sinking into her tight, wet pussy. Lola moaned wordlessly, the tensing of her body signaled that she was headed to the brink again. I lowered my head, taking her nipple in my mouth and tugged lightly. I wanted her to lose herself completely, to forget that the rest of the world existed. There was only my mouth, my hands, my cock. There was only me. Filling her up, owning her. I craved the total exchange of power.

  Sucking and biting her nipple, I drew my hips back and pumped into her hard and deep, my own orgasm threatening to overtake my control. Lola cried out, coming in wave after wave around me, moaning my name as her hands grasped at the cuffs that held her restrained. I gave one last thrust and my body unleashed the most intense orgasm of my life inside her.

  Holy fucking hell.

  My legs shook as I lowered her ass to the bed and braced myself above her. Lola gasped, trying to catch her breath, and whimpered softly, straining upward to brush her lips across my chest. I pulled the blindfold down around her neck so I could see the satisfaction in her eyes.

  “W—well that was interesting,” she breathed, trying to gather her composure.

  I laughed. “That was nothing. We’re just getting started.” The first part was a complete fucking lie—it’d been some of the most intense sex of my life, even though it barely registered on my scale of kink. But the second part? The second part was a promise. Whatever was happening between Lola and me? It wasn’t anywhere near finished.

  Chapter 8

  Lola

  I reached my arm out and felt nothing but cold, empty space on the other side of the bed. I should be used to it by now, but my heart still clenched a little bit every time. Especially today. I thought maybe after what we had done last night, Burke might at least be there when I woke up. But he wasn’t.

  And why should you care? I scolded myself. You two had sex. He’s not your boyfriend.

  But the sex… I closed my eyes again for a moment, remembering. I had never imagined how intense it could be to be blindfolded like that, how it would magnify all my other senses and make every touch feel electric.

  I had always enjoyed sex, but in an almost academic way. I found it pleasurable, and I enjoyed the feelings of intimacy and connection with my partner, but even as we were in the throes, I never stopped thinking. My mind was always racing, wondering if he thought I was taking too long to come, if I should just fake it. Not because the sex wasn’t good. Just because the pressure for me to have an orgasm made it less likely with every passing moment that I would actually have one.

  My experience with Burke, though, was all sensations. From the moment he’d tied that blindfold around my eyes, I’d been able to just feel. Every stroke of his finger, every brush of his skin over mine. For the first time, I hadn’t been thinking about what I should be doing, or how he saw me. It had been unnerving at first, but then he’d pressed inside me and everything else in the world had ceased to matter.

  Now, though, unease crept over me. Climbing out of bed, I tugged a sweater over my shoulders. The heavy curtains were still closed, blocking out all the light, and the room was grey and chilly.

  “Burke?” I called as I padded down the hallway. No response.

  An empty coffee cup set in the kitchen sink, but there was no other sign of him. I checked the living room, hoping he might’ve left a note, but only his laptop remained, still open, from the night before. My stomach clenched.

  What was I doing here?

  There was a girl missing—a girl I was supposed to be working day and night to find—and instead I was sleeping with the man who might be hiding information about her disappearance.

  I sank onto the couch and dropped my head into my hands. I couldn’t allow my desire for Burke to compromise my investigation, but that’s exactly what I was doing. It had been a week since I’d arrived, and what had I accomplished? Hope was no closer to being found than when I’d started, and all I had to go on were rumors and hunches. I believed Burke when he said no one here would have hurt her. Or I believed that he believed it, anyway. But what I needed was proof. And I wasn’t going to find that in his bed.

  I needed some perspective, so I made a call to Lainey. Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on her couch with a mug of tea, having just finished telling her about the night before and my reaction this morning.

  “Lola, why are you beating yourself up about this?” she asked gently. “You can’t be working on Hope’s case every minute of the day.”

  “I know, but it just feels wrong to be spending so much time and energy thinking about Burke when she’s still missing.”

  “Have you made any progress on the case?” Lainey asked, blowing on her tea.

  I winced. “Not as much as I should have. She liked her sex rough. L
ike, really rough. It caused a few problems for her.”

  “In what way?”

  I relayed the stories that Ryan and Marcus had told me about Hope’s altercations with the men at the club.

  “But Marcus still hasn’t gotten me the tape, so I don’t know who the second man was,” I finished, leaning back into the cushions and staring at the ceiling.

  “What about the first guy, though?” she pointed out. “You said there was a guy who didn’t want to hit her as hard as she wanted?”

  “Yeah, Richard.” I sat back up. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before. I had been so focused on the man whose identity I still didn’t know that I hadn’t even considered interviewing the one whose name I had. I was really losing it.

  “So talk to him,” she said. “He might even know who the second guy was. Or maybe you’ll meet him, he’ll be a total creep, and you’ll know right away he did it.”

  I shuddered. Talking to whoever had made Hope disappear wasn’t something I’d thought very much about, and I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with it.

  “Has anything else been bothering you? You still look worried.”

  “It’s stupid,” I said.

  “Lola, whatever it is, if it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.”

  “It’s just that … Burke was already gone when I got up this morning.” I looked down at my lap. Damn it, why did this even bother me? But Lainey looked at me sympathetically.

  “That sucks. But I doubt it had anything to do with you.”

  “But he does it every morning,” I burst out, surprising myself.

  “Lola,” she said in her most practical voice, “he has other things going on in his life. He can’t just wait around for you to get up every day. But if it bothers you that he disappeared after you had sex, you should tell him that.”

  I squeezed my mug. She was right, of course. After I had made such a big deal about not sleeping with him, I couldn’t expect him to bring me breakfast in bed. And now that we had slept together, I needed to make it clear that the rules had changed.

  I hugged Lainey and stood up to leave. Now that I had plans for both Hope and Burke, I felt a hundred pounds lighter.

  “Promise you’ll keep me posted?” Lainey said, grabbing my shoulders.

  “Promise.”

  * * *

  Burke was lounging on the couch when I arrived at the apartment. The moment I walked through the door, I saw the glint in his eye. A flash of heat coursed through my body and for a moment I considered just throwing myself on top of him.

  No. I told myself sternly. He’s not the only one who gets to have a few rules around here.

  Before he could stand, I put my hand out. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, brows lifted.

  “We slept together for the first time last night—”

  “I’m aware,” he interrupted, but I kept going.

  “—which means that this whole relationship of ours has changed.”

  “Okay…” Burke said. The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was holding back a laugh. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind, sweetheart.”

  Warmth spread through my chest at the endearment. It was the first time he’d called me that. I drew myself up with confidence, and said with all the authority I could muster, “I think you leaving before I’m awake, especially after you’d spent all night tying me up, is bullshit. You could at least have the decency to leave a note. I’m not one of your playthings, I’m—” I cut myself off. I’m what? Not his girlfriend. Not his employee. What was the ending to that sentence? “I’m your guest,” I finished lamely. As though it was well-established that proper etiquette after tying up your guests demanded that you at least greet them in the morning.

  At this, Burke did chuckle, but not unkindly.

  “I get up early. It doesn’t seem like you do.” He had a point—my mornings were always a rush to see how quickly I could get ready after hitting the snooze button too many times. “You’re right, though. If you’re asleep when I’m leaving the apartment, I’ll leave a note.”

  I smiled, basking in the glow of this small victory.

  “But,” he said, and now he was smiling too, though in a very different way, “sometimes those notes might have instructions for you.”

  “Instructions?” I repeated slowly. “What do you mean, instructions?”

  “That would spoil the surprise, Lola. You’re going to have to wait and find out. Now,” he said, his blue eyes darkening, “I think we have some lost time to make up for. And by the way, Lola, we have our own safeword in addition to the club safeword now.”

  “Oh really? And what is it?”

  “Gray.”

  * * *

  The moment I stepped out of the elevator, the pungent scent of roasting garlic hit me. Burke must have ordered from Alighieri’s again. The last few nights we’d had Indian food, and so the idea of pasta sounded wonderful. But when I opened the door, instead of seeing a meal carefully laid out on the dining table, I heard the unmistakable sound of a spoon scraping against the side of a pot. Burke was cooking.

  I walked quietly down the hallway, standing just out of the light. God that man was sexy. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, and I could see the tight, sinewy muscles of his forearms as he stirred a large pot on the stove. He was barefoot, the cuffs of his pants just touching the floor, and there was a lock of hair that kept falling in his eye, no matter how many times he shook it out. I loved seeing him when he was polished and austere, but this disheveled, casual Burke had his good points too. Just then, he reached up on the shelf to grab the salt, and I caught a glimpse of his smooth, defined abs. Yup, plenty of good points.

  “This is new,” I said, leaning against the doorframe.

  Burke looked up, but didn’t stop stirring. “You seem surprised,” he replied, a hint of a flirty challenge in his voice.

  “I guess I just never thought of you as very...domestic,” I said. “It’s cute.”

  A serious expression settled over his features. “There’s nothing ‘cute’ about cooking. Cooking is about sensuality. You should feel the same way at the end of a good meal as you do at the end of a good fuck.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Sated. Satisfied. And already looking forward to the next one.”

  A bolt of desire shot through my body. Taking a deep breath to collect myself, I crossed the kitchen to peek into the pot. “Risotto?”

  “With lemon and asparagus,” he said, still stirring.

  I was barely paying attention to his response, though. Just being next to Burke was enough to make me want him to throw me down on the floor and have his way with me. Or down on the couch. Or bent over the counter. Or…

  “Lola?” Burke stared at me expectantly.

  Get it together, I told myself. This is just embarrassing. “Sorry. Did you need help?”

  “You can start grating the cheese. We’ll stir it in to finish.”

  Glad to have something to focus on, I did as he asked.

  “I’ve never seen you cook before,” I said. “Are you trying to impress me?”

  He looked over his shoulder at me, one eyebrow cocked. “I think I’ve already done that.” The man was cocky as hell, but it was hard to argue with that after last night. “You can add that in now.”

  I swept the cheese off the cutting board and into the pot, releasing a delicious, nutty aroma.

  “Go sit,” he ordered. A moment later, he appeared in the dining room with two bowls and a bottle of wine. I watched as he ground black pepper and sprinkled more cheese on top. Burke was right about the similarities between food and sex—at least when it came to him. For Burke, it was all about his focus on those extra details, the pleasure of a thing executed perfectly. He handed me my food, and I took my first bite of the rich, creamy rice.

  “This is amazing,” I blurted. A delicious, homemade vegetarian meal. I felt happy and taken care o
f.

  He laughed. “You sound surprised.”

  I blushed. “Not surprised. Just … impressed.” The wine was perfect as well, light and crisp against my tongue as it cut through the richness of the risotto. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  Burke leaned back in his seat and sipped his wine. “The same semester that Carter was in Berlin, I was in Sicily. A friend taught me.”

  Before I could stop myself, I asked, “A girlfriend?”

  His dark blue eyes held mine. “I don’t know if I would call her that, but yes, it was a woman.” A small smile played on his lips. “Are you jealous?”

  “I’m curious is all,” I replied. And I found that it was true; I didn’t feel jealous of this woman he’d met in a romantic, foreign country as much as I wanted to hear about what they had been like together. “What was her name?”

  “Lorena.”

  “And did you tie her up too?”

  “I did. Carter’s girlfriend let me be rough with her, but Lorena was the one who really taught me to be a Dominant.”

  “Tell me about it.” The wine had made me bold, and I leaned toward him, knowing that my breasts would be displayed perfectly beneath the scoop of my neckline.

  He inhaled sharply. Good. I liked knowing that he was just as turned on by me as I was by him. Then he stood.

  “Follow me.” He wrapped a hand around my wrist and pulled me up out of my chair.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. As though it mattered. Right then, I would have followed him anywhere.

  “You’ll see.” Burke’s voice was nearly a growl.

  In the elevator, I expected him to be all over me, but instead he just continued to grip my wrist, looking straight ahead. We got off on the third floor and walked past the private rooms. Light seeped out from beneath several of the doors. In my wildest dreams, I’d never be able to guess what was happening behind them.