Alpha's Desire
Volume One
Alpha’s Desire
An MC Shifter Romance
Renee Rose
Lee Savino
Burning Desires
Contents
Volume 1
Alpha’s Desire
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Want More? Enjoy this Excerpt from Alpha’s War
Please Enjoy this Bonus Book - Alpha’s Temptation
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Book 2 in Lee and Renee’s Bad Boy Alpha series is coming soon!
Want FREE books?
Bonus Short Story
Other books in the Boy Alphas Series
About Renee Rose
Check out Renee’s Zandian Masters Series!
Other Titles by Renee Rose
About Lee Savino
Excerpt: Sold to the Berserkers by Lee Savino
Also by Lee Savino
Copyright © March 2018 Alpha’s Desire by Renee Rose and Lee Savino
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Published in the United States of America
Renee Rose Romance and Silverwood Press
Editor: MJ
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book contains descriptions of many BDSM and sexual practices, but this is a work of fiction and, as such, should not be used in any way as a guide. The author and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained within. In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!
Alpha’s Desire
She’s the one girl this player can’t have. A human.
I’m dying to claim the redhead who lights up the club every Saturday night.
I want to pull her into the storeroom and make her scream, but it wouldn’t be right.
She’s too pure. Too fresh. Too passionate.
Too human.
When she learns my secret, my alpha orders me to wipe her memories.
But I won’t do it.
Still, I’m not mate material—I can’t mark her and bring her into the pack.
What in the hell am I going to do with her?
1
Jared
Three months I’ve been hard for this human.
I know, woe is me, right? Try telling that to my cock when she’s up on that box in her miniscule shorts doing her little go-go dance for all the patrons of my Alpha’s nightclub.
Angelina. The red-headed dynamo who single-handedly transformed Eclipse into the happening place in Tucson on Saturday nights.
And right now some asshole just put his hands on her thighs.
I shove my way through the nightclub, ready to pound skulls. Lucky for me—unlucky for the handsy asshole—that’s my job.
Heat comes off the crowd in waves. The music thumps. The clubbers part to make room for my hulking frame. I carry two hundred and twenty pounds of solid, tattooed muscle. Not many try to mess with me or any of the other bouncers at Eclipse.
We don’t even have to pull out our shifter strength to show force.
Garrett doesn’t appreciate his bouncers getting overly aggressive, but dialing it back is an impossibility for me when I see Angelina’s annoyance at Handsy’s unrelenting come-on.
I shove my body between him and Angelina’s go-go box and fold my arms over my chest, mostly to keep me from closing my fist around his fragile human neck.
“Whoa, whoa!” He throws his offending palms up with an affronted air, like I’m overreacting.
“Hands off the dancers. You do it again, you’re eighty-sixed.”
“O-kay. Jeez. I was just saying hello.”
“You want to argue with me?” I challenge. Of course I’m pretty much dying for him to say yes, because wiping that attitude off his face would almost be as satisfying as receiving the grateful look Angelina’s sending my way.
Come on into the storeroom after closing and I’ll let you thank me properly.
I wish. Not that she hasn’t given me the signals. Not that I haven’t fucked at least a hundred human girls in that storeroom since Eclipse opened.
But I’m a little too hot for her.
And humans are off-limits for relationships. At least they were before Garrett decided to mate one.
Besides, she’s totally out of my league.
Fresh-faced and passionate, she’s a dance major from the University. She couldn’t be more clean-cut and innocent.
Meanwhile, I’m motorcycles and tattoos.
And a shifter.
Definitely not the right guy for her. And if I fucked that hot little body? I’d ruin her for everyone else.
Not to sound conceited about my abilities, but I pay attention to what a girl likes. I’m over-the-top rough and dominant, but I never force, never harm. I just coax their surrender and show them the way of the wolf.
Trey calls it Jaredizing. Once a girl’s had a taste, she keeps coming back for more. And then I have to end things, feelings get hurt. Something Angelina never deserves.
Handsy backs away, smarter than he acted at first. “No, man. I’m not arguing. Sheesh.” He shakes his head as he turns and ducks away into the crowd.
I look up at Angelina. “You okay, baby?”
Fuck if she doesn’t run her fingers over my closely cropped hair, her wide smile revealing one deep dimple. “Thank you,” she shouts over the music. “You’re my knight in shining armor!”
The music shifts to Lady Gaga’s latest hit. Angelina jumps up and down, clearly thrilled with the DJ’s choice. “Woohoo!”
I stay, grinning up at her like an idiot, because this girl draws me like a magnet.
I see the glint of excitement in her eyes right before she launches herself at me. Straddling one shoulder, she pumps her fist in the air.
Holy Mother of God. My hand snaps up to her back to hold her in place as she fucking rocks her pelvis, dancing on my shoulder.
At least I think she’s dancing. My brain tells me that’s what this activity is, but my cock is certain she’s begging to be fucked. Especially considering her pussy is inches away from my face.
I sink my teeth into her inner thigh.
She screams and grips my head with both hands, which only makes my dick think she wants more.
Yeah, this isn’t going to work. If I don’t put her back down on that box now, my mouth is going to go to town on the little scrap of fabric standing between me and that sweet pussy of hers.
I duck down to lower my shoulder and reluctantly let her slide off, back to her perch. I can’t resist slapping that
irresistible ass of hers before I turn and walk away.
I don’t look back—I can’t—but I’m satisfied knowing I left a good handprint on that bare flesh she’s been shaking for everyone tonight.
And seriously, I might have to tell her to come with her ass covered next week.
No. I can’t. Because:
A) The short shorts that only cover half a girl’s ass are in style. All the college girls are sporting them.
B) The go-go dancers and their delectable asses are part of why the club goes over-capacity every Saturday night. Garrett would not approve of me making changes to their costumes. Not that we have any artistic license over their act.
It’s Angelina’s show. Her brainchild, her proposal, her execution. She brought her crew of dancers and they make the place pop.
If only she didn’t leave me so blue-balled every time they performed.
Angelina
Oh, lordy.
Jared, the beefy bouncer with the tattoos and dark flirty manner has me all a-flutter. My butt stings where he smacked me and I don’t have to look to know he left a big, red print for all to see.
I have a feeling that was his intention.
Damn my fair, red-headed complexion, because the flush creeping up my neck and spreading across my face is probably visible for all to see.
I watch him disappear into the crowd, disappointed he doesn’t look back. The man is beautiful. A perfect specimen of raw masculinity. He’s rough-mannered and tattooed, but damn, he has enough charm to take all the edges off what might otherwise be an intimidating presence.
And wow, that little show of force with the guy who was bugging me?
Total turn-on. I’ve always had a thing for heroes.
I turn my head to catch the eyes of the other two dancers on shift tonight and the three of us go into a pre-arranged combination, changing from freestyle to synchronized movement.
Talya and Remy are both a little bit drunk, but we all know this routine so well we could do it in our sleep. Plus, professional or semi-professional dancers like us, with the amount of training in our bodies, can make anything look purposeful and choreographed.
The song ends and our set is over. We get the last hour to play—drinks on the house. That was the deal I worked out with the owner, another huge and quite intimidating man named Garrett Green. Fifty bucks each and free drinks in exchange for go-go dancing every Saturday night. Most of the girls on my makeshift dance team would do it just for the free cover and the attention they get up on those boxes.
Me? I don’t know why I do it. Not for the drinks—I don’t do well with alcohol. Just for the sheer joy of creation, I guess. It’s fun to insert real dance into everyday life.
Yes, I’m the type who loves musicals, where people suddenly break into song in public places. I’m the girl who rides her cart down the aisle in the grocery store, resisting an arabesque, choreographing a performance piece in my head for the shoppers I pass.
Don’t worry, I don’t actually execute it. Not that I wouldn’t, if I could talk other dancers into joining me.
I weave through the crowd, pretending I’m not looking for the sexy man-hunk, Jared. There. By the door to the back patio. I head to the bar because I don’t want to be too obvious. I don’t think he’s actually interested. I mean, I’ve given him the signal for weeks and although he gives me smoldering looks, he never actually asks for my number or suggests I hang out after hours.
Total disappointment.
I saddle up at the bar and order a tonic water with lime. It’s my stupid trick to make it appear I’m drinking a gin and tonic or vodka and soda, when really I’m just hydrating. My friends get their drinks and mingle and I pretend to play it cool. A guy comes over to me, but I’m not interested, so I give a polite smile and head to the bathroom.
When I get out, Jared stands there in the hallway.
“Come here, little girl.” He crooks a finger at me. I follow him through the staff-only door, into the storeroom, packed high with boxes of alcohol.
Damn, if a fraternity ever wanted a place to rob, this would be the jackpot.
My heart pounds, face heating even though I don’t know what he wants.
I mean, I know what I hope he wants.
And I shouldn’t hope for it.
From all accounts, Jared is a player. He hooks up with girls and never calls. That’s what everyone says, including his best buddy, the other bouncer, Trey. I’ve been warned off this guy, but I still can’t stop the thrills of excitement fluttering through my body.
Jared picks up one of my hands. Before I have any clue what he’s doing, he spins me around to face a wall and slaps it there. Then he picks up my other wrist and stacks it with the first, pinning both with one powerful palm.
My breath clogs my throat as his hand crashes down on my backside. Like before, he catches the underside of my butt, the bare part below my short shorts.
I gasp, but don’t protest, way too turned on to want it to stop.
He smacks the other cheek, just as hard. “That is for wearing shorts that make every guy in the building want to fuck this juicy ass.”
I’m pretty sure I stop breathing. I’ve never been spoken to in such a rough and dirty manner, but I’m definitely not complaining. My lady parts squeeze and swell, planning a party for whatever else Jared has to offer.
He spins me back around to face him. My butt hits the wall and I lose my breath on an exhale. His hand goes right to the notch between my legs and he cups my mons.
“And the next time you put this pussy so close to my mouth—” He undulates his hand, pressing over my shorts in tandem from clit to anus. I gasp and rise up on my toes. “—you’re going to find out just exactly what I’d like to do with it.”
A shiver of epic proportions runs through me. More like a shudder, only that sounds bad. And what I’m feeling is really freakin’ far from bad. My insides turn liquid, heat pours down my thighs, straight to the arches of my feet.
I now understand where the phrase he curls my toes comes from.
He slowly slides the firm contact of his fingers over the fabric just above my slit, which has completely dampened my panties. “Understand, beautiful?”
I swallow. “Yeah.” My pussy clenches.
His fingers delve under the crotch of my shorts, into my panties and I mewl.
“Baby, you wear these shorts to Eclipse again, I’m gonna take you back here and spank this juicy ass so red every guy watching you dance will know you’ve been claimed.”
He jerks his head back and shakes it, as if he’s surprised by what he just said, but his fingers glide, glide, glide over my slit. I moan softly, my gaze staying at the level of his chest.
“Eyes on me, baby,” he commands and I obey without thinking. Dancers are by nature obedient creatures. We’ve spent our lives molding our bodies and minds to do anything and everything a director or teacher asks of us. Any dancer who doesn’t gets weeded out fast. There are always ten more waiting to take your spot if you’re not willing to give five hundred percent.
He holds my gaze as he screws one finger into me.
I whimper, not out of pain, but out of need. I’m not a virgin but I’ve literally never been so turned on in my life. My nipples poke against the tight fabric of my shirt and my pussy is sopping.
I writhe against his hold on my wrists, grind down to take his finger deeper.
He leans his head down by mine, so we’re temple to temple. “You okay, angel?”
It’s a little late to be double-checking for my permission, but I appreciate the ask. “Yeah,” I breathe.
“Good.” He shifts and wedges a second finger inside me.
I buck my hips, rising up on my toes.
“You’re dancing for me now, aren’t you, baby?”
“Oh God,” I moan.
He’s worked both fingers deep inside me and now he stops moving. Just stops!
“Wh-what at are you doing?”
His grin is all shades
of sexy. “Just making sure you really want it.”
I roll my hips. “I said I did.”
He pumps slowly. Too slowly. “Say it nicely. Tell me who you’re dancing for.”
“You. I’m dancing for you,” I cry, growing desperate for release.
“You want more of my fingers, angel?”
“Jared,” I pant.
His eyelids droop.
One part of me gets pissed. Is he making a fool of me here?
He must sense my resistance because he says, “Nah, fuck it. I should be begging you. I can’t wait to watch you go over the edge, beautiful.” He pumps his fingers in and out until my shimmying legs are ready to give out. “Come for me, Angelina. Show me what you’ve got.”
I have no idea what he means by that, but, again, my body follows his command. I give into his skilled torture. The moment my muscles start to squeeze his fingers, he shoves deep and waits, letting me tighten and ease in waves of pleasure and release.
“Aw, fuck, baby.” He leans his forehead against mine as he eases his fingers out. “That was even better than I imagined.”
I’m not sure what he means, since I’m the one who got off, but it still inspires a giddiness that revives me from the relaxation coursing through my muscles.
The doorknob rattles and Jared jerks away, releasing me and tugging down the hem of my shorts just before the door swings open.