The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

Kylie

I wake to the sound of Sam’s motorcyle pulling away and Jackson’s angry voice from the kitchen. “Who leaked it to the press? I will have their ass. Well, find out and terminate them before I get my hands on them. Understand? Good.”

Damn. Jackson’s shit storm just got worse if one of his employees leaked the situation to the press. I wonder if that means I’ve been named as the perpetrator? How long before the FBI is involved? I climb off the couch. The windows are dark, which means I must’ve slept all afternoon. I check the time on my laptop. Seven p. m.

Jackson’s starts up again-he must be making phone calls. “Get me Sarah, in PR.”

I jog upstairs, determined to take a shower and make myself presentable before he sees me. I fail miserably, because he walks out to the living room and watches me ascend the stairs while he yells at his public relations director.

I wince and give him a wave of surrender, mouthing the word shower.

He nods and continues with his tirade.

When the FBI gets involved, will he turn me in? I slip into his guest bathroom and the memory of what we did in there two nights ago comes rushing back.

I strip and climb into the shower, letting my fingers slide between my legs like last time.

I have another punishment coming.

I’m suddenly desperate for it. My time here may be limited. If the FBI is looking for me, I may have to leave in a hurry. And my business with Jackson feels unfinished.

I want his touch, his mastery, one more time.

Right, and he’s downstairs in crisis-control mode.

But maybe a little distraction is exactly what he needs, too. I could give him that blow job I didn’t get to start last time. It could be my penance for what I’ve done.

I rub my clit, excited by the prospect. But I don’t want to finish myself off. I’d much rather have Jackson’s skillful fingers there.

I shut off the water and step out, toweling off.

Yep, there’s only one way to play this. I wrap the towel around my waist and sashay downstairs, my bare breasts puckering in the cool evening air.

Jackson’s still on the phone, but, when he sees me, he stops speaking. He lifts one finger and points at me. I don’t know what it means, but I keep coming.

“You know what to do. Don’t call me until it’s done. Got it?” He hangs up. “Kitten.” His voice sounds strangled. “What in the hell are you doing?”

I play the coquette and bring one finger between my teeth, biting down. “Is it time for my punishment?”

“Fuck.” It comes out in a burst. His eyes look bluer than I’ve seen them-a pale blue. No sign of the green at all.

He points to the couch in the living room. “I’ll be right in.”

My palms are clammy. Despite my bravado, I have no idea what I’m doing. Seduction is a new game for me, and punishment is completely foreign. No, that’s not true. I’ve watched my share of fetish porn. But I’ve never experienced real pain. I’m not sure how I will like it.

Jackson returns holding a wooden spoon, and my stomach flips.

I bite my lower lip and work to keep my breath calm.

He sits down on the overstuffed brown suede sectional and pats his lap. “Lose the towel, kitten.”

My pussy clenches. I’m not sure whether I’m more excited or nervous, but either way, I’m going forward. I drop the towel to the floor and climb over his lap, offering my ass up for his punishment. I pray a wooden spoon isn’t the worst implement of torture in the world. It probably isn’t, since was used regularly on children’s butts in the days when spanking was considered a useful and acceptable form of punishment. Not that I agree with such measures.

“Oh, kitten.” It sounds like a lament, a groan almost. Jackson runs his hand up the back of my thigh and over the curve of one cheek. I feel his hard length press against my hip.

I part my thighs.

“Baby, I’ll take care of that ache between your legs soon. But, you’re right. It’s time for your punishment, now.” He gives my ass a slap, but it’s just with his hand.

“Mmm,” I encourage him.

He slaps the other side and rubs away the sting. A few more slaps right and left and I start wiggling, wanting more.

He leans over and bites my ass, and I shriek and giggle. He chuckles, too.

“Okay, let’s say… twenty with the wooden spoon.”

I have no idea if that’s a lot or a little, since I haven’t felt the spoon yet, so I keep my mouth shut.

He leans over. “If it’s too much, baby, I want you to tell me.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Yes, sir.”

He groans. “I love it when you call me that.”

“Is that why you became a CEO?”

He pops me with the wooden spoon. It’s definitely worse than his hand, but not horrible. “No, baby. I don’t want anyone else to call me sir. Just you.” He starts spanking rapidly, one side then the other.

I roll my hips, jerking with the impact.

“I only love it from you. The rest of them can go fuck themselves.”

I squeeze my ass together. It hurts. A lot. But then it’s over. Twenty spanks in twenty seconds. I’m almost sorry it was only twenty. Almost.

Jackson strokes his palm over my twitching ass, and I moan softly. “I’m not sure that was enough,” he muses. “I didn’t know how you’d take it.” His fingers delve between my legs, and my thoughts scramble.

“Should we do another round, kitten? Twenty more?”

“No.”

Heat flushes everywhere; my pussy weeps for him.

“No?” His touch is so beguiling, fingers sliding up and down my slick folds. My brain can’t compute that he’s threatening me with more of the wooden spoon.

“Yes?” I say.

He growls, low and sexy. More like an approving rumble. “I like spanking you, kitten. Love having you spread across my lap for punishment.”

“Who else?” I choke, because, for some reason, I’m a jealous bitch when it comes to Jackson.

He stops moving. “Excuse me?”

“Who else have you spanked?”

His low chuckle goes straight to my erogenous zones, tightening my nipples, making my pussy squeeze. “Just you, baby. Only you.” He picks up the spoon again and pops me with it.

I definitely don’t like it this time, since I’m already sore from the first spanking, but I’m also not willing to say it’s too much. He applies another rapid-fire round, and I squirm and squeal over his lap. “Ouch, please!” I shout at the end, but he was stopping anyway.

His fingers immediately slip between my legs, and I can tell I’m three times as wet as before. I guess I did need a second spanking.

“Jesus, this cute little ass bobbing over my lap makes me want to do this all night.”

“Noooo,” I moan. I’m definitely not down for round three.

He chuckles and flips me over. He’s a big guy, and I know he’s strong, but I swear he makes it seem like I weigh less than three pounds. With one huge palm wrapped around my thigh, he pulls it open and lifts my hips. His mouth hits my core, ripping a scream from my lips.

Holy cunnilingus, Batman. His tongue circles my inner lips. He sucks and nips on my labia, suctions his lips over my clit.

I buck and claw at him, closing my mouth around the screams that won’t stop coming.

He growls, penetrating me with his thumb as he continues his earth-shattering torture of my lady parts.

I come unglued, a climax ripping through me with enough power to fuel a rocket ship.

“Fuck, kitten.” Jackson removes his mouth and pumps his digit in and out of me, watching my face as I finish.

One part of me thinks I should be embarrassed that he’s seeing my O-face, but the rest of me doesn’t care. Or, rather, believes he deserves the privilege, since he’s the one to produce it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” There’s desperation to Jackson’s tone. His eyes glow light blue. He flips me over again, this time onto my knees on the couch with my torso hanging over the arm of the sofa. He slaps my sore ass, and I hear the rustle of clothing.

I realize I’m about to lose my V-card. Things are moving so fast. Jackson’s breath is erratic, his movements jerky. He rubs the head of his cock over my sopping entrance. I don’t think he put a condom on. Part of me is thrilled to have inspired this much passion in him. The other part is-ouch.

I gasp, tears spearing my eyes when he shoves into me, breaking my resistance.

He freezes. “Kylie, no.”

I’m still holding my breath.

“Baby, no.” His torso covers mine, and he strokes my hair back from my face, trying to see me. His cock fills me, stretching my opening. Now that the initial shock of pain is gone, it feels good. I want him to start moving.

“I’m so sorry. Did I just-”

“Yes. I’m okay. Go on.”

He curses and eases out.

“Don’t you dare,” I snap. “You’re not taking this from me. Finish what you started, big man.”

He strokes my hip. “Kylie.” I hear the regret in his voice, and it pisses me off. I’m not a fucking china doll. Or maybe he doesn’t want to have sex with a virgin. Maybe it’s a total turnoff and he’s lost his erection.

“Don’t you dare,” I whisper again, and my voice breaks.

“Kylie.” His hands are gentle this time. He lifts me and tries to set me on his lap, but I’m too humiliated. I lurch off and run up the stairs. My nudity isn’t sexy anymore. It’s just…vulnerable.

Jackson’s right on my heels, but, to his credit, he doesn’t touch me. “Kylie. Kylie, wait. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I run into my bedroom, but when I try to shut the door in his face, he stops it with his hand.

Tears of frustration leak from the corners of my eyes.

“Kylie, please.” He puts his entire body in the doorframe, so there’s no way I’m closing it. I give up and walk to the bed, pulling on my day-old clothes.

“I’m sorry. I totally lost control. I didn’t even have a fucking condom on, and I had no idea you were a-”

I whirl around and glare at him, which stops the word from coming out of his mouth.

He shakes his head. “I never planned to have sex with you. I was just going to give you a little pleasure. But you were so fucking hot, and I lost control.” He shoves his fingers through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. “It’s better this way, kitten.”

Why does he look like he’s breaking up with me? I want to throw something at his sympathetic face.

“I’m glad something stopped us. I… can’t have sex with you.”

What in the hell is this? First, Sam tells me it’s not going to work, now, Jackson.

Why can’t he be with me? Why? Is he married already? Subject to seizures? I just can’t fucking figure out what makes it impossible for us to be together.

But I’m too fragile to drag it out of him now.

“I need to be alone, now,” I tell him.

His face falls. “Right. Okay. But, are you hurt? Promise me you’re not hurt.”

I lift my chin. “Definitely not hurt.” Not physically.

Jackson, on the other hand, looks like he’s in enormous pain. I notice his cock still bulges in his khakis.

Well, good. Serves him right for stopping. I hope those blue balls hurt him all night long.