The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

Sedona

Somewhere in my brain lies the urge to protest this unexpected turn of events. I’d planned to punish Carlos with my red dress and appearance in a bar, now he’s wrested all control from me.

But I’m not feeling weak. On the contrary, being the object of Carlos’ singular focus, seeing the dark need and lust swirling in his gaze sends power coursing through me even though I’m the one tied up.

He takes another pull off my clit, then rolls me onto my stomach, taking care to adjust the bra binding my wrists to keep my arms comfortable.

My mind may have a few reservations, but my body’s clearly on board with whatever Carlos is planning, because I lift my ass, giving him a better view of my most intimate parts.

“Mmm.” Carlos grabs a proprietary handful of one cheek, squeezing roughly. “You keep that ass rolled back for me, angel, show me you can take your punishment like a good girl.”

My insides turn liquid, heat building in my core. I love Carlos’ dirty talk-this game he’s playing with me. I expect him to crawl up and enter me from behind-I crave that, actually, but I hear him rummage in the bag he brought and the flick of something plastic, like the flip of a lid.

When he pries my butt cheeks apart, I freak. Tugging on my bound wrists for leverage, I pull my knees up under me, and crawl away.

Carlos grabs my calf and pulls me back flat on my tummy. “Ah ah, mi amor. That’s not taking it like a good girl.” He tries again to prise open my cheeks, but I list to the side, rolling to press my ass to the bedspread.

Amusement lights Carlos’ handsome face. He’s on his knees beside me, holding a tube of lubricant in his hand, but he drops the lube and grasps both my ankles. Connecting them in one large hand, he holds them high and delivers several sharp slaps to my ass.

I shriek in surprise at the spanks and the shockingly vulnerable position, my ass in the air, lady parts exposed. Carlos tilts my legs toward my head and dribbles some lube into my ass crack.

“Carlos.” I’m whimpering now. Anal sex is totally not something I’m prepared to give him, no matter how hot and bothered he has me.

He leans over and kisses my smarting cheeks. “Shh, beautiful wolf. You have nothing to fear from me.”

The flutters in my belly say different, but as I analyze the statement, I know he’s right. I trust this male not to harm me. Even so, I shake my head.

Carlos picks up what must be a butt plug-I’ve never seen one before, but I can guess at its use-and brings the tip to my anus. “This is your punishment, mi amor.” He lifts my ankles-not high enough to pull my pelvis up off the bed this time-and nudges the bulbous tip of the slender stainless steel plug against my back hole.

My anus clenches, then, against my will, my body opens for it. Carlos presses his advantage, easing the plug into me. The sensation is at once delicious and horrifying. I don’t want to like it, but I do. Pleasure floods me as he works the cool metal phallus deeper. It’s not too big, so while there’s a sensation of stretching and filling, there’s no discomfort, other than my embarrassment at having an object up my ass. He pushes it in until it seats, then rolls me to my belly and gives my ass a light slap.

I’m oddly disgruntled, not about having the plug in my ass, but now that it’s in, I’m needy and flushed, wanting more. “Carlos?”

“Madre de Dios, yes, Sedona. Keep saying my name in that throaty voice of yours. It makes me want to jack off and come all over you.”

A shocked little gust comes out of me-half laugh, half moan. Like before, I hike up my ass, offering an invitation for him to take what he’s already claimed.

Fates know I want his cock again, just as badly as I’d wanted it the night he marked me.

He groans. “Are you offering me that pretty little pussy of yours, angel?” He slips his fingers between my legs and strokes my slit.

My eyes roll back in my head. “Yes, Carlos.” I hardly recognize my wanton moan.

Carlos dips into my juices and coats my inner lips with my own natural lubrication, circling my clit with maddening slowness. Then, at the same time, he starts to move the slender butt plug in and out of my ass.

I shout with surprise, the intensity of pleasure and need catapulting me into overdrive.

“C-Carlos!”

“You like that, doll?”

“Oh fates, please!”

“Please, what, beautiful?”

“Please don’t stop. Please, faster-Carlos!” I try to convey my urgency by beating my feet on the bed, like a swimmer’s kick, only from just the knees.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Somehow, despite my lack of sexual experience, I’m quite sure that the only thing better would be penetration of my pussy, too. As if Carlos reads my mind, he glides two fingers inside me, pumping them alternately with the plug.

My moans meld into one long, guttural cry. Probably everyone in the damn hotel can hear me, but whatever. It’s Paris. “Carlos, Carlos, please,” I beg. I seriously want to weep-I’m so wound up, need release so badly.

Carlos starts plunging his fingers and the plug at the same time, fast, and stars burst before my eyes. I feel like I’m hurtling into a dark tunnel on a roller coaster. It’s Space Mountain all the way as everything in me shoots toward the finish line. It’s more like a portal, than a line, though, because the second I pass through it, my body tightens and squeezes, wringing every last bit of pleasure out while my mind, my consciousness, soars. I coast into outer space, flung so far and so high I can’t even remember my name. My age. My species.

And then I’m back. Panting into the bedspread as Carlos eases both his fingers and the plug from my body. He trails kisses across my lower back before he disappears to the bathroom to use the sink.

I’m boneless, incapable of moving from where I seem to have melted into the bed. When Carlos returns, he releases my wrists and gathers me up into his arms.

“Okay, angel?”

Somehow I manage to nod. I try to make my lips move, to ask about his pleasure. I’d invite him to satisfy his earlier expressed fantasy of jacking off all over me, but no sound comes out.

Carlos presses a bottle of water to my lips and I drink.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs in awe.

I don’t need to be told-as an alpha female, it’s something I’ve always known, but he doesn’t seem to be saying it for my benefit. More like an observation he can’t help but make.

“Are you hungry, mi amor? I bought some snacks for us, too.”

I manage a weak nod. “When were you planning to feed me them?” I ask when he returns with a container of fresh strawberries, a baguette, and a jar of Nutella.

“I hadn’t figured that part out yet.” His rueful grin is humble and handsome and my remaining annoyance melts away. This is the male I remember from that cell in Mexico. The male I formed a bond with, whether I like it or not. He dips a strawberry into the Nutella and holds it up to my lips.

I take a bite, conscious of his gaze glued to my lips. A trickle of juice escapes my lips and Carlos lunges as my tongue flicks it away. He stops himself and swallows.

“Sedona. I-I have so many things I want to say, but none of them seem good enough. I’m sorry. I’ll start with that. I’m sorry.”

I look at him from under my lashes. “For what, exactly?”

“For what my pack did to you. I can never take it back. Never make it up to you. But the fates know I want to try.”

I draw in a breath. I have to ask this question. I need to know how much of what happened in Mexico was biology-the full moon and two alphas locked together-and how much is real. “What about what you said back in the cell-that you weren’t sorry it happened?”

Carlos clenches his jaw and busies himself with tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in the Nutella. He feeds it to me. “That’s also true.” His voice has the timber of a heavy confession, like he doesn’t want to admit it, but can’t lie.

I’m dismayed by how much lighter his admission makes me feel. How far have I fallen for this guy?

I’m loving the chocolate bread treat and I lift my chin to urge him to give me more. He does, immediately. I don’t have any comparisons, but it’s hard to imagine a more attentive lover.

“Sedona, I don’t wish to force myself on you. The last thing I want is to make this all harder. But I’m also incapable of letting you go. I’m not saying that to scare you, I’m just trying to explain why I’m here, following you like a stray dog who smells meat.”

My lips twitch at his comparison and I see relief seep across his expression.

“Let me serve as your escort on this trip. I know you came to forget me. To forget what happened. But I’ve been watching you for days, mi amor, and your melancholy hasn’t lessened. Maybe you need a… friend to share your travels. I speak a little French and I’m very good at holding umbrellas and keeping the flocks of fans away from soon-to-be-famous artists when they stop to sketch things.”

I arch a brow. “Friend, huh? Do you strip all of your friends naked and tie them to bedposts?” The minute I ask the question, I’m burning with jealousy. Has he done this before? He did seem rather expert at it. I want to poke the eyes out of every female he’s been with.

His lips twitch. “You brought that on yourself, blanca. You should know better than to goad my wolf.” He uses that authoritative tone that gets me wet.

“What’s blanca-white?”

“Yes. So what do you say, muneca? Will you let me stay? Be your companion?”

“That depends.” I already know my answer is yes. The heaviness that’s shrouded me since Mexico is lifting and European travel suddenly becomes as enticing as it felt when I first dreamed of coming here.

“Name your conditions, mi amor. I will respect them.”

I love the honor and respect he shows me. “When I say I need space, you back off. I’m not accepting you as my mate.”

He nods gravely. “Understood. I’m not asking for that.”

Suddenly shy, I snatch up a strawberry and bite into it. I love the hungry expression that creeps over Carlos’ face as he watches. I wonder if he’s going to demand his own pleasure or deny himself to prove he’ll behave. I’m tempted to confess to him that next time I’d love to try the butt plug and his cock, but I hold back.

He’s not my mate, he’s a companion. We still haven’t discussed how doomed and impossible any future relationship would be, but the subject looms over us.

“Maybe we should go to Spain,” I blurt to keep from jumping his bones.

“Why?”

“You speak the language. It might be more fun.”

He leans his forehead against mine as he presses another strawberry between my lips. “That is a wonderful idea, mi amor. We’ll go visit the haunts of Gaudi and Picasso. Dali. Miro. Who else?”

I beam at him. Though I’ve been the princess of my father’s pack my entire life, and many would call me spoiled, I always felt like no one knew me. Like I’m little more than an object or symbol. Carlos pays attention. He knows exactly what I like and I love the feeling of being truly seen for once. And the idea of visiting museums with him nearly makes me giddy.

I nestle my head against his shoulder, settling into the comfort he provides. For all my brave desires to do this trip alone, it’s much nicer to have a partner. Especially one as capable and caring as Carlos.