by Ruby Taylor
The Alpha Club 1: Learning to Let Go
Ruby Taylor
1
“It’s so hot in here,” I yelled, knowing from Jessa’s blank gaze that she couldn’t hear a word I said. I rolled my eyes, and fanned my face theatrically with my hands. “It’s hot.”
She nodded vacantly, her doe eyes half focused on me. I didn’t blame her –the music was thumping so hard I could barely think either. Or perhaps it was the copious amounts of vodka she had already consumed.
We were perched at the edge of a booth in Time, supposedly the place to be, sipping our screwdrivers in awe. Everyone within a twenty mile radius of Miami must have thought it was a good idea to come here tonight too, and the place was crammed, tanned bodies writhing against each other within inches of our faces. Sure, it was the hottest club in South Beach, but it was the final night of our weeklong vacation in Miami and I was starting to develop club-fatigue.
I looked back around to Jessa, my whole body vibrating from the bass. She had returned her scant attention to the dance floor, and was busy pouting her lips in that general direction. I could tell that someone had caught her eye. I sighed – it was going to be another long night.
Jessa was my co-worker; we were the only two single women in our office, and everyone had thought it would be a good idea for us two to vacation together. It wasn’t. Up to then, we had only spent time together in a crowd at work drinks. One-on-one, it was obvious that Jessa’s sole intention on the trip was to find a rich husband, and her preening and posing was driving me crazy.
I was relieved when she stood up slowly and sashayed across the room to the dance floor, jaws dropping in her wake. Jessa was hot with a capital ‘H’, with a body to die for and the kind of face that would make a Brazilian supermodel feel plain. With her gone, I could feel the attention pass away from our little corner of the room.
Feeling awkward, I reached for my purse and retrieved my cell. It was only midnight. I toyed with the idea of returning to our hotel room, but dismissed it immediately. With Jessa’s propensity to bring home random men, I knew I needed to be tired out in order to sleep through their antics, especially since I’d be squished up on the sofa in the living area of our suite. I shook my head, angry at myself for being such a bore.
I felt the atmosphere change and looked up to see a tall, broad man standing over me. I raised my eyebrows, preparing myself mentally for whatever cheesy line he was about to crack.
2
His lips moved but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. His hazel eyes were crinkled with smile lines, and I felt my tummy leap when he bent down until his face was level with mine. He held eye contact for the briefest of moments, before leaning to whisper in my ear.
“You look like you’re having a bit of a dilemma.”
Usually I hated guys in clubs telling me I looked pissed or tired or grumpy, but something in his eyes told me he was genuinely curious, not using it as some sad chat-up line. Up close, his face had a warmth to it, but he also looked the type who didn’t suffer fools. He looked different to the other guys here, with his day-old stubble and couldn’t-care-less attitude.
I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Just telling myself to snap out of it and have fun.”
“You’re not having fun?” He raised an eyebrow. His voice was deep and gravelly, with the softest hint of a New York accent. I willed him to keep talking.
“No I am,” I protested. I didn’t want him to think I was boring. “It’s just…we’ve been here for a week, and I’m a little fed up of the clubs.”
He listened and nodded slowly. He pointed to the space on the banquette beside me. I nodded and moved my purse onto my lap. He turned and sat down. The place was so busy we were pressed against each other, his thigh pushing into mine. It felt rock solid against my bare leg. I tried to swallow my nerves and listen to what he was saying.
“I know what you mean.” He was leaning into me, and I could feel his hot breath on my ear. It felt natural though; not like a lot of the sleazy college kids who had been swarming around Jessa like flies and seen me as the consolation prize when she was otherwise engaged. “Sometimes I’d prefer to just chill at home. I’m Jack.”
He held out a huge hand for me to shake. I always notice peoples’ hands and I was surprised to see well-tended nails and soft, moisturized skin. Not unpleasant. It just seemed at odds with his otherwise rugged appearance.
“Melissa.”
He smiled. “How about we get out of here and go grab a coffee?”
I must have given him my best cynical glare because he suddenly looked taken aback. “It’s not a line.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him.
“Hey come on, if I wanted to get laid wouldn’t I just have taken home one of the chicks who were all over me on the dance floor?”
“I didn’t see you on the dance floor,” I countered, immediately regretting it. Damn Mel, stop protesting. Here’s a guy you actually want to fuck.
He shook his head. “How about that coffee?”
I smiled and nodded, hoping he was out to get laid after all.
3
“I hope you won’t be offended, but you don’t seem the type?”
We were sitting in an all-night diner, huddled in a booth over coffees. The air con was a harsh contrast to the sweaty club.
“What do you mean?” I protested, pointing at my outfit. I had bought it specially for Miami – skin-tight, low-cut and body con usually weren’t in my vocabulary, but this dress was all three and then some.
He looked me up and down slowly, taking in my tiny black dress. His gaze lingered so long I was worried I’d blush. He nodded. “You’ve dressed the part, sure,” he drawled slowly. “But there’s something about you that doesn’t fit in Miami.”
I pouted.
“Oh don’t get mad,” he smiled, grabbing my arm. “You look hot as hell baby, but your heart’s not in it.”
I relaxed a little. “How come you’re here?”
He shrugged. “Meeting a client.”
“And you’d really prefer to be chilling at home than partying?” I still didn’t really believe him.
He leaned in close. “No. Sometimes I love to party. Tonight? Well I saw you, and you intrigued me.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes.
“You did!” he replied, holding his hands out in protest.
“Sure.” I sat back, folding my arms.
He looked as if he was about to say something but stopped. He leaned back against his seat and studied me. “Are you always this defensive?”
He looked so open and genuine that I found myself answering honestly. “I’m not. I just hate lines, that’s all.”
“It wasn’t a line.”
“Sure it was.”
“Why? How can you be so sure?” he leaned forward again and placed his elbows on the table.
“’you intrigued me’,” I mocked. “Please!”
“What?! You did,” he didn’t take his eyes off mine and I squirmed under his gaze.
“But it’s so...” I faltered.
“So what?” He leaned in close so our faces almost touched.
Flustered, I couldn’t get my point across. “It’s just, it’s—”
He reached forward and grabbed my hands gently. “Relax. Please. I meant it, you intrigued me. So I don’t know why you got so goddamn cynical.”
“Sorry.” I tried to smile. “It’s just people say all kinds of stupid stuff when they want to fuck you. I’m sorry if I treated you like one of them.”
His eyes lit up. “You intrigue me alright. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to fuck you. No man in his right mind wouldn’t want to.”
4
He was gentle at first, but as I kissed him back, so clearly wanting more, he became more insistent, leaning further across the table.
Hating myself for ruining the moment, I pushed him away slightly. Faces inches apart, I stroked his chin and looked deep in his eyes. He frowned at me.
“Not here,” I whispered.
“Where?” he asked with a smile, leaning in to kiss me again.
This time it was harder to pull away. Some strange part of me wanted to climb across the table and straddle him right there in the diner. “My hotel room.” I could barely get the words out.
“I’ve got a suite at the Montford,” he whispered, his lips still on mine.
Thoughts of private roof terraces with hot tubs swirled into my head, but my sensible brain swatted them away. “’I’ve got an early flight in the morning.”
We squeezed our way out of the club and into the humid night air. Away from the crowd, I blinked at him in surprise, like I was seeing him for the first time. What am I doing? I asked myself. I was the sensible one out of my friends; the middle child with sensible middle child syndrome. I looked around bewildered, studying the Art Deco buildings and outrageously-dressed passers-by.
With nowhere else to look, I returned my gaze to him and was drawn in once more. He had been watching me silently, the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips.
Before I could even demand to know what he was laughing at, he had pulled me back into his orbit. I walked toward him in silence, standing as close as I possibly could to his solid bulk.
“Which hotel?” His voice muffled as he nuzzled my neck; rough, stubbly skin sending shots of pain and pleasure coursing through me in equal parts. The roughness seemed out of sorts with his preened, soft hands, but I could tell from his eyes that there were a lot of layers to this guy. I had only met him that night and already he seemed able to deconstruct me completely.
“The Deco,” I answered, fighting hard to keep the pitch of my voice level.
“That’s just a block away, we’ll walk,” he said, pulling me closer for a moment.
I moaned into his chest, resenting the couple minutes’ walk.
“What’s that?” he pulled away amused.
I struggled to get myself under control. He was turning me into a babbling mess. “Nothing,” I smiled, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. “Let’s go.” I could hear my voice, high and strained.
He draped an arm around my shoulder and held me tight as we walked. Even in my heels – skyscrapers I had borrowed from Jessa when my own wardrobe turned out to be woefully inadequate by Miami standards – he towered above me.
Finally, we reached the lobby of my hotel. As we strolled across the marble floor to the elevators, I was conscious of heads turning to take in my companion. As we stepped into the elevator, I appraised him surreptitiously, and it was all I could do not to hold my breath. He had looked fit and attractive in the dim blue-white light of the club, but the lighting had downplayed his all-American tan and straight, gleaming white teeth. I could see now that his hazel eyes were shot through with tiny flecks of green.
He caught me staring and abruptly pressed the door close button.
5
The doors had barely whirred closed before he reached forward and grabbed my ass, pulling me toward him. I gasped, surprised at the speed of his movement, as well as at the bulge in his pants that was now digging into the thin fabric of my dress.
“Stop,” I muttered, pulling away from his grip and grabbing at the hem of my dress to pull it back down from my hips.
He looked at me in surprise.
I didn’t know what to say, so watched him mutely.
A look I didn’t recognize flashed across his eyes. It was like he was fighting with something within himself. He was silent too, and I wished the elevator would hurry up and reach my floor. I leaned back and pushed the button discreetly, as if that would somehow speed our ascent.
“Are you that desperate to get away, Melissa?” he asked. His voice sounded calm but there was a subtle edge to it.
“No,” I struggled. “It just seemed a little... in an elevator, you know?”
He watched me. “No I don’t.”
He wasn’t making it easy. I tried to avoid his gorgeous eyes as we stood there, in conflict all of a sudden.
“It’s just...anyone could just step in whenever.”
He took a step closer.
“We’d be...” Still I babbled on, even though my brain was telling my stupid mouth to shut up.
He towered over me now, my neck leaning back to look in his eyes. I expected a smart-ass retort, but he just leaned down and kissed me, hands grasping roughly at my breasts through my skin-tight dress. My shoulders pulled away but my hips moved in the opposite direction, pushing against him involuntarily. The net effect was my body stumbling backward, falling against the back wall of the elevator. I looked up into his eyes, feeling like prey. The look in his eyes was pure animal, and even worse, I felt my body respond to it – my nipples were throbbing painfully, aching for his touch. I felt my pussy clench and hoped there was no tell-tale movement of my hips for him to see.
“I can leave if you don’t want to do this.” That look was still in his eyes, but there was something else overriding it now.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.
He watched me, waiting. Finally, he backed away to the buttons near the door. When I saw he was about to press the lobby button, I jerked forward. “No.”
He turned back to look at me. “No, you don’t want to do this, or no you don’t want me to leave?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want you to leave.” It came out in a hoarse whisper.
He smiled tightly. “Good.”
6
Within seconds he was pushing up against me, crowding me back against the mirrored wall at the back of the elevator. He bent and lifted me up by my hips, squeezing me tightly to him. I leaned my head back against the cold glass and his hands impatiently pulled my dress down, freeing my breasts from my plunge bra.
I bucked away, seeing that we had almost reached my floor.
In response, he put his head down and scooped one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking the delicate flesh. This time, the feeling of his stubble rubbing against my soft flesh was almost too much to bear. I cried out, immediately embarrassed to hear my own voice sounding like that in such an open place.
He laughed – the vibrations ran through my body. Moving to my other nipple, he shoved me harder against the wall with his hips and moved his other hand up to where his mouth had just been, squeezing roughly.
“You need to relax,” he muttered.
The elevator chimed and I opened my eyes in shock. The doors had opened wide. He placed me back on the ground gently and walked to the door to hold it, while I readjusted my dress. It amazed me how he could still look immaculate – even if I hadn’t been able to see my disheveled reflection in the mirror, my machine gun heartbeat and burning face would have told me I looked far from groomed.
Out of breath, I walked toward him and the door.
“See? No one around.” He was so calm it was infuriating.
I led the way to my room, with Jack trailing hot on my heels. “I can’t keep my hands off you,” he complained, pulling me back toward him with two strong arms.
“We’re almost there,” I hissed, pulling away.
I hated how prudish this vacation made me feel. I had had boyfriends before, but always with the kinds of guys who thought spontaneous sex was the kind where you did it in bed with your socks still on. No wonder I felt out of my depth now.
“Relax.” His breath was hot against my ear as I fumbled with the key card. He pulled it from my hands, and within seconds his strong arm was holding
the door open for me to enter.
I was relieved to see there was no sign of Jessa – I had only remembered her when we stepped out of the elevator.
The door slammed.
I stopped in my tracks and turned around slowly.
There it was again, that look in his eyes that screamed pure animal lust. He smiled as if something just dawned on him.
“Do you have a balcony?”
“A small one. Why?”
He walked past me without replying, through the little living area and into the bedroom. I cringed when I saw Jessa’s messy pile of clothing and shoes in the corner, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He didn’t seem to, and was now clicking off the lock to the sliding door. In the harsh bright light, I could see the muscles in his back tense and rearrange as he pushed the door wide open, seemingly without effort.
He looked back and smirked when he caught me staring. He watched me, one hand on the side of the door.
I hesitated for a moment, heart pounding. Then I bent to unfasten my uncomfortable shoes.
“Leave them on.” My hair had covered my face, so I couldn’t see his when I tried to look up, but his commanding tone sent a shiver through me. I stood up and brushed my hair out of my face.
“Come here.”
I walked to the door.
7
The damp warm air surprised me again after the frigid cold of the hotel building. He had moved away from the door and was sitting in a cast iron patio chair, back to the barrier of the balcony. The barrier was made of glass; the whole area barely ten by six. We faced the beach, where small groups of people moved along, their shouts and laughter occasionally reaching our level.
He leaned back in the chair and appraised me for a moment, before standing up. He walked toward me slowly.
“Turn around,” he whispered.
I obeyed, and felt strong hands stroking upwards from my hips to my waist to my ribs. Then I heard the sharp rasp of a zip. He pulled the clingy fabric off my shoulders and down my hips, so it lay useless around my feet. I shivered, even though the night air was still warm. His soft hands returned to my hips and slowly groped their way forward until they edged along the seam of my panties.