Red Hot Alphas: 11 Novels of Sexy, Bad Boy, Alpha Males (Red Hot Boxed Sets Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  For a while, everything felt normal. I did a normal job and there wasn't even a hint of Parker Bernier's existence in the building. Then I came up to the third floor for the last hour of my shift, and everything changed. Now I'm nervous and uncertain and feeling insecure. It's a bit unpleasant, and it's making me question what I've gotten myself into.

  “Fifteen minutes is up. Let's switch.” Parker's voice cuts through my thoughts. I've been massaging the same spot on his arm for the past several minutes. After doing one arm and switching to the other, it feels like I've run out of space.

  “Okay.” I move away from the table to allow him to sit up. His shoulders and arms have a soft shine to them now, though it's barely noticeable.

  He doesn't look relaxed at all as he hops down from the table. “Your turn.”

  “Can I use the sheet?” I grip hold of it before he has a chance to respond, pulling it back in preparation to crawl beneath it for cover.

  “No.”

  With a frown, I take my position on the bed, face up, naked as a jaybird. Not even my doctor has seen me like this.

  I inhale deeply and watch Parker in my peripheral vision. In a matter of seconds, he's standing over me with a generous amount of cream in each hand. As I look up at him, I realize that my head is cock-level with him. If he wanted to, he could rest it right on my forehead, and I would roll around and take it into my mouth. I expect to feel it against me, but I don't. He must have wedged it against the table to keep it from touching me.

  “Did I do all right?” I stare up into the shadow that his body casts over me.

  “No. You were horrible.” He doesn't bother cushioning the words.

  Such harsh criticism makes me want to crawl off of the table and go hide, but I don't move. Hopefully, he won't make me rub on him again today if I'm so horrible at it.

  He slides both hands under my shoulders and begins to knead into my muscles. At the first strong stroke of his fingers, my body completely relaxes. Heaven. This is what heaven must feel like. He touches on every tense muscle and nerve and massages them into submission with his powerful hands. A soft moan escapes my lips, and I blush in embarrassment, wishing I could take it back.

  “It feels good, doesn't it?” He's wearing a panty-melting grin that makes my sex clench with want. This is definitely heaven.

  “It's amazing.” There's an excited tint to my voice. Why can't I temper my reactions?

  “Your body is tight.”

  Did he really just say that? It takes me a second to pull my mind out of the gutter and realize that he's talking about the muscles in my shoulders. I bite my bottom lip, wishing I could just sink down into the massage table and disappear.

  “Don't do that,” he chastises me. “Don't bite your bottom lip. That does things to me.”

  He's gazing down at me with a lusty expression that only makes me feel more vulnerable. Why are we beating around the bush like this? It's obvious we both want to fuck each other. Why not just get down to it? I'm so game.

  “Tell me about the best sex you've ever had.” The words come out of his mouth without emotion, as if he's asking me about the weather.

  This has to cross into sexual harassment territory. Seriously, he's breaking some major laws. He has no right to ask me these kinds of questions.

  “Is it part of my job description to answer such personal questions?” I don't bother tempering the discontent in my voice. He should know that my personal life is none of his business.

  “I'm just trying to make conversation.” He moves to massage my right forearm. When he presses his palm into the tissue, it feels absolutely amazing.

  “It's an odd thing to choose as a conversation starter.” I relax a little, despite myself.

  “It's one of my favorite topics. I like talking about sex. Besides, everyone has it. Why not talk about it?”

  “Do you bring up sex in your business meetings?”

  “My business meetings aren't this intimate.” He takes my hand in his, gently rubbing my fingers. It feels like there's a strange electricity pulsing between us. I like it.

  “You're very good at this.” He doesn't deserve the compliment for as much of an asshole as he's been to me, but I give it to him anyway. It's true. I've never had a massage before, and now I can see why almost every woman I know goes to get them. I bet they don't have a hot naked man massage them though. I smirk to myself.

  “I went to school for it as well, so I'll be able to help you study when it's time to take your tests.” He finishes up on my hand and walks around me to start on the other arm.

  “You went to school to be a massage therapist?” This honestly surprises me. At what point was he able to fit that in? He seems so busy.

  “School is a hobby for me. I've gone to school for a lot of things. I like to think of myself as a jack of all trades.” He kneads his knuckles into my shoulder, causing me to groan. “You have a knot here.”

  “How do you know?” I don't really care about the answer. I just don't want him to stop.

  “Because I can feel it. Give me your hand.” He gestures over my shoulder for my hand. I lazily reach up and offer it to him. He presses my fingertip into a small bulge in my shoulder. “It's right there. Can you feel it?”

  “Yeah.” I can. It's so strange.

  “Anyway.” He releases my hand, and I bring it back down to my side to enjoy the rest of the massage. “Tell me about your best lover ever. What was his name?”

  I relent, deciding it's not the worst thing in the world to discuss. Besides, knowing the answer won't mean anything to Parker. “His name was Anders.”

  “Anders. That's an unusual name,” Parker repeats thoughtfully. “Tell me about Anders. What made him so special?”

  How do I count the ways without making it sound like I'm obsessed? It was so long ago, but I know I'll never forget him. Who could forget the best they've ever had? “He was gorgeous. And he had a big cock and knew how to use it.” I briefly glance down at Parker's dick, wondering if he knows how to use it. Some guys are just clueless in the bedroom. It would be a shame if that was the case with this one.

  “Bigger than mine?” It's such a bold question. Luckily, the answer is no, but if it had been yes, I wonder if he would be offended.

  “No.” I decide to be honest. “I've never had a cock as big as yours before.”

  The proud smile on Parker's lips is unmistakable. It almost upsets me that my words made him so happy. The last thing he needs is for me to fan the fire of his ever-inflating ego.

  “Was he your boyfriend?” It seems like a strange followup question.

  “Why does it matter?”

  “It doesn't. I'm just making conversation.” He moves down to my forearm, giving it the same treatment as he did the other one.

  The fact that he doesn't care about the answers to his questions offends me a little. Shouldn't he be asking about something he does give a shit about, like my job experience or something work-related? I decide it doesn't matter. Conversation is conversation, and he's controlling it, so I'm just going to go with it. “He wasn't my boyfriend.”

  “How did you meet him?” As Parker picks up my hand, the back of my pinky brushes over his cock head. My mind goes wild, wondering if he did it on purpose. He continues the massage as if nothing happened, not even bothering to apologize.

  “I met him at a club on my twenty-first birthday. It was a present I'll never forget.” I smirk at the memory.

  “So he was a stripper?”

  “No. He was just there, trawling for young naive girls, I imagine.” It's the truth. I remember seeing him watching me from across the club. For a while, I thought it was love at first sight. It wasn't until the next night that I realized I was just a not-so-quick fuck to him.

  “And you went home with him and let him fuck you.” It's more of a statement than a question, and a bold one at that. The implications of it make my cheeks heat up.

  “No. He took me to a hotel room.” My mind flits back to
that night, of Anders’ hard muscular body moving on top of mine. I had never had sex like that before. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly where I needed to be touched.

  “How many times did he make you come?”

  I feel myself quickly becoming aroused by a mixture of the memory and Parker’s questions. Why is he asking me such intimate things? Why is my body reacting so crudely? It's so embarrassing. I can already feel the moisture building between my thighs. “More times than I can count.”

  A short laugh escapes Parker’s lips. “That's an exaggeration.”

  “It's not.” I shake my head. “Before him, I had never come from sex before. He must have gotten me off at least half a dozen times that night.”

  “How did he do it?” Parker practically growls.

  “With his mouth, his hand, his cock.” I'd never been more thoroughly serviced by a man in my entire adult life. Anders wasn't content until he made me come with every part of him.

  “How many times did you guys fuck?”

  My body tenses as Parker moves down to the bottom of the massage table to cradle one of my feet. I press my thighs closer together, trying to hide my arousal.

  “Several times that night, but it was only that night.” The painful memory tears into me. Why I thought it could ever be something more, I don't know. I was young and stupid back then and hoping for some whirlwind romance. The only part of that I got was the whirlwind. Anders took me out for a spin and then dropped me back down on the planet crestfallen.

  “What happened to him?” Parker presses his knuckles into the bottom of my foot, causing my toes to curl.

  “I went back to the club the next night to look for him, and I saw him with another woman. He didn't even acknowledge my existence.” A bitterness rips through me. That was the first time I learned that wealthy men are usually assholes. I should have known nothing more would happen between us when Anders didn't give me his last name or ask me for my number. Like an idiot, I still held onto hope though.

  “Ouch.” Parker winces slightly, but I get the feeling it's not genuine. This guy looks like he'd do the exact same thing to a woman if given half the chance. It doesn't matter to me now though. I am in complete fuck-and-run mode. Men are scum, and the only thing they're good for is pleasuring me. “How many lovers have you had since?”

  “That's none of your business,” I snap at him. The thought of how Anders destroyed me has brought something ugly up from the dregs of my soul. I don't feel like sharing anymore.

  “I'm not going to judge you, Kira.” His voice is surprisingly gentle.

  “Maybe a dozen.” What does it matter? Getting involved with rich guys is bad news. I'm better off if Parker thinks I'm a slut and is repulsed by me. Besides, I'm sure he's no better. With a body like that, he's probably fucked half the city.

  “And none of them ever stacked up to the bar that Anders set?” He's smirking, and I have no idea why. My story was far from funny.

  “None. And I doubt any ever will.” I shift uncomfortably as he begins kneading into my calf, forcing my thighs open a bit wider.

  “That sounds like a challenge.” His eyes inch up my leg to my cunt. Suddenly, I feel more exposed than I have the entire time we've been in this room together.

  Reflexively, I squeeze my legs together, practically jerking my calf out of his grasp. “It's not.” I don't expect any man to match up to Anders' skill in the bedroom. He was one of a kind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My massage skills have improved dramatically since the day before. I simply stand there, mimicking what Parker did to me. He seems satisfied. At one point, he even moans slightly. Music to my ears. I can't help but imagine what he sounds like when he's in the throes of sexual bliss.

  He's being mercifully quiet today. I wonder how long it will last. If it's just the silence and his erection keeping me company, I think I might make it through this. His eyes are closed, and for the first time ever, I don't feel uncomfortable being nude in his presence.

  Fifteen minutes passes, and by the time he tells me we should switch places, I'm feeling serene. Maybe it's because the classical music is soothing. Perhaps it's because there's nothing but the sound of our breathing and the feel of my hands sliding over his hard muscle. All I know is that I don't want it to end.

  “Get on the table.” He sits up and slides off the table to trade places with me.

  “Did I do a good job?” For most of the massage, I wasn't worried about it too much. His moan was a confirmation that I didn't completely suck.

  “It was better than yesterday, but you still have a ways to go.” He nods approvingly. “Your hands need to get stronger. It will happen over time.”

  I can't argue that I didn't massage him as deeply as he massaged me, and it wasn't for lack of trying. Men are generally stronger than women.

  “Yesterday, I massaged your legs and arms. Today, I'm going to massage your breasts. You'll be required to massage my chest, so it's good for you to experience it first,” he says casually.

  “Whoa!” My body tenses, and I instinctively cover my tits with my hands. “That wasn't part of our agreement.”

  He furrows his perfect brows as he looks down on me. “Our agreement was that you would learn massage.”

  “It was.” I nod. “But I didn't agree to letting you put your hands all over me.”

  “Kira.” He shifts his weight in irritation. “It's important for you to know how to do these things. And the best way for me to teach you is to show you. Your technique has already improved since yesterday because I demonstrated. It's no different.”

  “It's very different.” I pull myself into a sitting position, feeling too awkward to have this conversation lying on my back. “Female breast tissue isn't the same as pecs.” I gesture to his gorgeous muscular chest.

  His lips quirk into an amused smile. “I promise it will feel good.”

  I don't doubt him. Everything he's done so far has felt amazing. Still, I worry about what allowing him to touch me so intimately will do to me. It's like he's a slow tease, driving me crazy with his naked body and sensual touch, yet not allowing me to have all of him. While a carnal part of me loves it, every time I leave this room, I feel confused.

  “Lie down,” he tells me.

  Apprehensively, I kick my legs back onto the table and scoot down before resting my head in the cradle. My body feels so rigid now, knowing what's coming.

  Parker goes to get some massage cream and then flanks my side. The thought of him touching me inappropriately is so unsettling that I decide to close my eyes. Seconds later, his fingertips make contact with my right breast. Just knowing that his hands are on me makes my nipples perk. It's so embarrassing that I find myself biting my lip.

  “Don't do that to me, Kira.” His warm minty breath wafts across my face, making my eyes shoot open. My heart nearly stops as I realize his lips are just inches away from mine. All it would take is me lifting my head for us to kiss. I want it so badly, but I'm afraid of his reaction. “Seeing you do that makes me want to kiss you.”

  My lips part at his words. Kiss me then. I beg for it with my eyes, but then he withdraws. A blush rushes across my cheeks at how lusty I must look.

  “Your tits are perfect. Has anyone ever told you that?” He's staring at my breasts now, directly at my taut pink nipples.

  Several people have told me that my breasts are perfect. To be honest, they're two of my best features. Large and shapely and awesome-looking in a tight shirt. “No,” I lie, enjoying the compliment.

  “You're an absolutely gorgeous girl.” He circles me to work on the other tit, kneading the soft tissue gently beneath his fingertips. They skirt around my nipple, which only arouses me more.

  I'm lost in his compliments and the feel of his hands on me. Subconsciously, I moan. I want him to pinch and twist my nipples, to lean down and kiss me. Why does he torture me like this?

  “I think you enjoy this more than you let on.” He smirks down at me.


  “I do,” I admit. It's time to push the envelope and see if I can turn the tables. Perhaps we can fuck and I can still keep my job.

  “Your body reacts to my touch.” His eyes are hooded as he stares at my breasts. I wonder if he can feel the heat of my arousal through my skin.

  “I like it when you touch me.” The statement is bold and filled with wanton desire.

  “I like touching you,” he purrs back at me. Our eyes meet, and I don't look away. I want him to see how much I need him, how much I want to feel him inside of me.

  “I want you to touch me more.” My thighs part a bit to show him my intentions.

  “Do you like sucking cock, Kira?” One of his hands reaches up to trace my bottom lip. I part my lips for him, but he quickly withdraws to return to the massage. “You have amazing lips.”

  “Why do you ask me such crude questions?” My disappointment comes out. It feels like he's torturing me with this tug and pull. If he wants me to suck his cock, he should just ask. Hell, I'm two seconds away from rolling around and impaling myself on it. I've thought about it ever since I first saw him naked, how he would taste in my mouth, what it would be like to watch him come.

  “Because your reactions are entertaining.” Damn him and his gorgeous smile. He knows what he's doing to me. He has to.

  “I don't think I want to answer your questions anymore.” I brush at his hands, indicating that he should move on to another part of my body. If he's not going to fuck me, then he doesn't deserve to be touching my breasts.

  “You're so funny.” He takes the hint, redirecting his focus to shoulders. I wonder what he'd do if I reached back and grabbed his cock. Probably think I'm a lot less funny.

  You're such a tease, I want to tell him. Such an asshole. But I don't. If we can just sink into the same silence that I enjoyed while I was massaging him, maybe I can ride out my bad mood. It's going to be another grumpy afternoon.

  “When's the last time you had sex?” he asks, refusing to give up.

  “Mister Bernier, I don't feel like answering any more of your questions.” There's a firmness to my tone that clearly shows he's upset me.