The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

Ginrummy

His cell phone beeps. It’s eight p. m., and he’s still at SeCure, but that isn’t unusual. It isn’t unusual for half the employees there. They work flex time, and a lot of programmers do their best work at night.

It’s Mr. X calling.

Yeah, seriously. The asshole calls himself Mr. X.

He doesn’t know how many people he has under him or behind him. He did his best digging and all he came up with was that Mr. X doesn’t exist. He’s part of some powerful organized crime ring.Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

Well, whatever. He’d do his part and become a rich man. Maybe he would even warn Kylie back into hiding before the FBI pick her up. Or not. He still hasn’t made his mind up about her. He is both more attracted and repelled by her now that he’s met her in person.

He swipes his screen. “What’s up?”

“Looks like your threat wasn’t convincing enough.”

Not a surprise. She is Catgirl, after all.

“How do you know?”

“Her bags are packed. We picked up the old lady she lives with, though. We’ll take it from here.”

His breath stalls in his chest, and he feels sick to his stomach. Well, duh. Of course these guys wouldn’t be above kidnapping. Jesus, they probably aren’t above murder, either. A chill runs through his limbs. What will they do with the old lady? What will they do with Kylie?

Fuck.

He doesn’t want to be a part of all this. But he does want the fifty million dollars and safe passage out of the country promised to him. And this is why he’s partnered with men like Mr. X. They are willing to do the hard stuff. All he had to do was write the code.

And it’s too damn late to back out. Yeah, he has a feeling the only way out of this now will be through a bullet in the head.

~.~

Kylie

My legs wobble as I step into the shower. I may still be wet, but I’m sure as hell not cold anymore. Holy finger fucking, Batman. And now I see the advantage of a real live sexual partner. They do things to you you didn’t know are possible.

All this time I’d been perfectly content with watching porn and using my battery operated boyfriend. I shimmy out of my wet jeans and take off my bra and panties.

Who has seen you in these cute-as-hell panties?

Did he really turn agro over some imaginary other man? A shiver runs through me, and I step under the spray of water. Is that a total red flag? Maybe he is as creepy as I’d portrayed him in the elevator. Would he keep me locked in a closet for whipping?

Oh God. Just the thought of confinement in a small space makes my solar plexus twist. I erase the thought, focusing instead on the whipping part.

He spanked me.

A grin splits my face and I reach back to palm my ass, which burns a little under the spray of warm water.

Yummy.

Seriously, that was the hottest thing that ever happened to me.

Okay, yes, it’s the only hot thing that’s ever happened to me.

My V-card has never been punched. I’ve lived such a strange existence, never able to trust anyone. I started college at age sixteen, had a few unsatisfying hook ups in which I abandoned my goal of punching the card and gave blowjobs instead. So, yeah. That’s my sex life in a nutshell.

Total virgin, finger fucked by Jackson King in his bathroom after confessing to hacking him as a teen.

The fact he satisfied me and not himself is an argument against the creep factor. But who or what stopped him when I was ready to suck him off? He heard something in the house.

Does he have a roommate? Secret girlfriend? Housekeeper? Pool boy?

Even though I didn’t enjoy either of my early experiences with men, I was so ready to blow Jackson’s mind. My mouth watered to taste his cock, to pleasure him like a porn star.

Hopefully there will be another chance. I run my hands over my ass again, replaying the spanking. Leaning my forehead against the tile, I bring my fingers between my legs.

Ohhh. I’ve never been so slick and swollen. I imagine Jackson stepping into the shower with me, his huge frame crowding me back against the wall. He’d order me to place my hands on the wall and slap my ass until I beg him to stop, then he’d grip my hips and plow into me from behind. I pull up on my fingers, undulating them between my legs.

A second climax rips through me, and my head swims from the heat. I breathe deeply until the stars clear then I shut off the spray.

When I step out, my wet clothes are gone, and a towel and a neatly folded MIT sweatshirt sit on the counter.

A flush of embarrassment washes through me. Did he come in while I was masturbating? I grab the towel and dry off then pull on the warm sweatshirt. It’s huge on me, falling to mid-thigh like a sweater dress, which is good, since he didn’t leave me any panties. I love wearing something that belongs to him. I pull it to my nose, breathing in his faint scent.

I can’t stop thinking about his thick fingers moving inside me, and I’m suddenly dying for the full package. Getting my V-card punched by Jackson King would be the ultimate hacker girl fantasy fulfillment. But no, this isn’t about checking a box, or having a famous person.

It’s about the sheer animal attraction between Jackson and I. I felt it in the elevator before I even knew who he was. I loved the take-charge way he handled me there as much as I loved being bent over his bathroom countertop for a spanking.

I search for a brush, but this seems to be a guest bathroom. There are no personal items anywhere, just cleaning supplies and toilet paper. I tear my fingers through my wet hair and head out.

The house-mansion, really-is enormous. I follow the curved staircase downstairs and follow sounds of movement to a huge, open kitchen.

The man standing behind the enormous granite-topped island eating cold cuts from the container with his fingers isn’t Jackson, though.

“Oh, hey,” I say inanely, giving a small wrist wave.

He’s young-my age or younger-with blond hair that is straggly and wet like mine. The lean muscles of his arms are covered with tattoos, and both his ears are stretched with rings. He has the still bearing of a predator, and he watches me approach without moving.

I tug down the hem of Jackson’s sweatshirt. “I’m, uh, Kylie,” I offer, hoping to get an introduction back.

“Sam.” Somehow I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.

Fuck. Is Jackson gay? “Are you and Jackson…?”

His cold demeanor cracks with a flicker of a smile. “He’s my brother.”

I gape. Clearly not a blood brother. They look nothing alike. “Looks like you were, um, out in the rain, too.”

The young man doesn’t answer.

“I see you’ve met Sam.” Jackson’s deep voice sends tremors through my body, like after-quakes from my climax. Climaxes. Plural. Because he was certainly responsible for both.

I look from Jackson’s huge mountain man frame and dark hair to the lean muscled fair man, and I’m not convinced they’re not lovers. Especially because Sam shoots Jackson a What the fuck? look.

Why does that make me desperate to stake my claim on Jackson? But it’s not my right. I am in big trouble with my employer and my blackmailers, and we need to make a game plan.

“Do you want to see what’s on that thumb drive?” I ask. The envelope with the threat and thumb drive disappeared from the bathroom while I was showering. Even though nothing terrible has happened yet, I’m still not sure I made the right choice coming here. Trusting someone other than family. I remember how badly that turned out for my father.

Jackson gives me a cool nod. “Yeah. I’ll take a look at it,” he says dismissively.

I hate getting the dis on this. I mean, I’m a hacker through and through. I need to see the code, know what they were planning. Especially because it involves me. “May I see it?”

Jackson considers me for a moment. “You didn’t look before you brought it over here?” Despite the fact we just shared the hottest and most intimate moment of my life upstairs, he’s returned to Mr. All Business. His face could be carved out of granite.

I shake my head. “Want to look at it now?” I don’t add the together that’s on my lips.

“I want to look at it first,” he says. “Alone.”

Alarm bells go off. Did I make a mistake bringing this here? Not handling things on my own? Now my fate is in his hands, and I still don’t know how he’s going to play things. “I’m pretty good with hacks, too.”

His eyes narrow. “So I recall.” He looks at Sam. “My new employee turns out to be the only hacker who ever busted my code.”

I can’t figure out if he’s still pissed or if I detect a note of admiration there.

“And she allegedly just received a blackmail letter asking her to install malware into our system in exchange for silence about her hacker identity.”

Allegedly. The blow hits me like a hand grenade in the solar plexus. He doesn’t believe me? Of course not. Why would he? Just because we both would like to get each other naked doesn’t mean we should trust each other.

Except I do want to trust him. And it’s probably just my misguided teen crush, but I desperately want Jackson to trust me back.

But hell, maybe his plan is to turn me over to the cops just as soon as he knows what he’s dealing with.