12 Alphas 12 Months: Contemporary Sensual Romance Calendar
(Boxed Set)
Publication date: July 7th 2015
Genres: Adult, Romance
Publication date: July 7th 2015
Genres: Adult, Romance
LIMITED TIME ONLY! .99
USA Today, Amazon and Multi-published Bestselling Authors bring you sensual contemporary romance stories of…ALPHAS: Military/Vets, Shifters, Blue Collar, Business Men, Athletes, Smoke Jumpers, Doctors and more… Ladies this is the YEAR of your dreams. 12 Alphas 12 Months come and get your calendar men!
All New Stories…with a connection. That’s right. These stories all have a main theme that unites them. Tamela Harvin is a nationally syndicated radio host who left the glitz and glamour of Hollywood to use her fame helping out those less fortunate. She loves a cause. When she contacted by a listener about a grave concern close to her heart; widower fathers struggling to find emotional support and care for their children after a lose of a wife, Tamela gets to work. Calling in all her community activist across the continent and one sharp photographer, Braden Niles, she creates a calendar of hot sexy men to raise money and support.
From one story to another, men are stepping up, and taking it off to help fathers and children in need.
Don’t you want to do your part? One click and your in. .99 cents for a limited time.
Meet your men:
Mr. January
Beg for It by Angie Daniels
Three wild erotic nights will have her begging for more…
They
followed the beat of nineties music with her high-heel, lime-green
pumps echoing on the concrete floor. The popular tunes alone were
enough to take her mind back ten years to a bleak period she’d
rather forget. When they neared the gym, she noticed the former
students standing in the hallways, laughing and talking. Jayla
ignored the appreciative male gazes that followed them toward the
door. Just any man wouldn’t do, and even then, the last thing she’d
be interested in was something romantic. She no longer engaged in
relationships. A weekend fling… that was a horse of a different
color.
Together
they stepped into the gymnasium that was already crowded. Classmates
were already mingling, taking photographs, and heavy laughter
circulated the room. One guy who looked vaguely familiar whistled as
she sauntered past and yet Jayla rolled her eyes heavenward. Ten
years ago he wouldn’t have given her the time of day, therefore,
she didn’t even give him the satisfaction of looking his way.
Instead, she tilted her chin and continued her stride through the
doors and over to the registration desk, decorated in the purple and
gold school colors, where a very pregnant woman was seated.
“Welcome
back to Dixon High!” she greeted in a high-pitched voice. “Names
please.”
“I’m
Kat James and this is my cousin Jayla Parker.”
“Hi
Kat!” she squealed. “I’m Hannah. We use to have American
Literature together.”
“Of
course,” she said and then batted her eyelashes, which Jayla knew
was a clear indication her cousin was lying. Kat had a better chance
of remembering some gorgeous guy she’d met in line at the
supermarket.
Hannah’s
blue eyes studied Jayla before a puzzled frown marred her forehead.
“Jayla… hmm, I’m afraid I don’t remember you.”
Oh
course she didn’t. What was there to remember?
Quit
running in the halls before I have to give you a citation!
Spit
out that gum!
Jayla
gave herself a mental shake, then stood off to the side as she waited
for her name-tag. She would not allow anything to drag her mind down
that dark path. Instead, she would do what she had done for
years—focus on reinvention and elevation. Dedication and hard work
had eventually paid off. And as a result, she was no longer that
frumpy hall monitor who lurked the corridors, instead she was the
new, beautiful, free-spirited version Jayla Parker.
Jayla’s
eyes traveled around the large space the reunion committee had
transformed into a night club. Strobe lighting. Two cash bars. A
dozen waitresses working the floor. While looking over at a table in
the corner, something caught her attention.
Someone.
Jayla
swallowed. There he was. Stefano Ortiz.
Jayla
recognized him immediately. Former track star. Mr. Popular. Even
after all these years, he was fiercely sexy, and muy
caliente.
All it took was one sweep of his dark eyes and heat flooded through
her so suddenly she nearly stumbled back. Kat was calling her name,
but Jayla was catatonic and her feet felt glued to the floor. How was
it even possible for Stefano to be more handsome than before? she
wondered. And yet the proof was sitting right in front of her. The
years had only intensified his fine qualities. His Latino features
were so mesmerizing, she felt her tongue sliding across her lips.
And
cream inching down her inner thighs.
He
had eyes black as the midnight sky, a shadowed face with lean cheeks
and a strong nose. His hair was dark and thick, cut a little too
short for her taste and yet her fingers itched to stroke his head,
and then there was his beautiful dark skin. However, what penetrated
into her soul, like an explicit dream, was the memories of the deep
accented timbre of his voice when he spoke Spanish.
Her
nerve-endings were firing in a way she had not experienced before and
Jayla quickly hauled her eyes away. Back in high school, all of the
girls, especially the cliques, whimpered with desire when he walked
by. Stefano was used to girls wanting him, and a little twist of
bitterness clenched inside her at the memories. Back then, he hadn’t
given a girl like her the time of day.
But
now she was a woman. And tonight, all was about to change.
Mr. February
Got your Six by Erosa Knowles
In the end, the only words he needed were hers in Reclamation: Got your Six by Erosa Knowles.
Max
cupped her cheeks while staring into dark eyes. His fingertip grazed
her full lips. The love in his heart reflected in their depths. Max’s
heart squeezed in gratitude.
“No.”
She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “This is perfect. You’re
perfect… for me. Love you, babe.” Leaning in, she kissed him
softly, Max gloried in the feel of her lips on his, deepening their
connection. Tamara threw one leg over his and moved closer.
Smiling,
he watched her maneuver on the narrow lounger until she lay on top,
hands planted on his chest. Tamara met his gaze with a wicked gleam.
“I’m on top,” she stated the obvious.
Max’s
hand moved beneath the light fabric and rested on the small of her
back, grateful she wore boy shorts and a tank top. Nothing felt as
good as her soft, warm skin.
“Okay.
Now what?” Max wiggled his brows and ran a palm down to her firm
ass. “Nice pillow.” He slapped one cheek and then squeezed both,
enjoying her squirming. “Hope you know what you’re doing with all
that wiggling.” Max lifted his hips slightly, pressing his hardness
into her.
“Yes,
I do.” Tamara turned toward the sliding glass door. “How long
before Kevin wakes up?”
Max
bit back a groan. Hearing your kid’s name was a sure-fire way to
deflate your boner. “An hour or two, maybe less, so let’s hurry.”
Tamara
sat with her hands on his stomach and her legs hanging on each side.
The morning sun surrounded her like a halo, kissing her mocha
complexion and confirming his belief she was his angel.
“Hurry?”
Tamara shook her head slowly and placed a hand on his lips. “Sorry,
don’t do … hurry or fast. Not with you.” She rolled her hips.
Black chin length hair moved against her face, providing cover. Her
eyelids drooped half-way.
Max
gasped as pleasurable tension shot through his core. Perhaps he
should rethink that angel classification. The delicious torment
wreaked on him leaned in the opposite direction. His heartbeat raced.
“Babe,
what are you doing?” Max asked, trying to catch a breath.
“Nothing,
just checking things out from up here.”
Closing
his eyes, he dropped his head onto the lounger, allowing his lover to
do her thing. Lately, a project at work had kept her tied in knots,
and being a stress reliever had awesome benefits. Four days at the
beach seemed the perfect remedy to rest and reconnect. Tamara’s
knuckles grazed his cheek.
Max
opened his eyes half-mast, watching, and waiting.
“I
love you so much,” she whispered.
His
dick jumped. Not because of what she said, but how the longing in her
voice crawled inside his skin. “I never thought… never expected
to meet someone like you. Not after… well, Eugene.”
Max
tamped down the burgeoning irritation at the mention of that bastard
into this special time.
Tamara
rubbed against him, coaxing his cock back to life and robbing his
mind of thought. His grip tightened on her ass, holding her close.
“You
are so much more. A great father, friend to so many, and most
importantly…” she whispered, and then kissed him lightly, again
and again. Her tongue brushed against his mouth and slid between his
lips.
Eager
to join with her, Max’s body hummed with expectation. His
fingertips trailed between her legs, seeking entry. “What? Most
importantly what?” he asked when she stopped moving.
Tamara’s
lips hovered above his. “Mine. All mine.”
Mr. March
Succulent by TJ Michaels
Twilight Teahouse ~ Choosing something decadent from our menu…
Did
it really mean nothing that the documents she’d accidentally seen
proved that he’d changed his itinerary and cancelled the next four
yoga conventions so he could get home to her and stay there?
Well…did
it?
By
sheer force of will, Madison pushed all of her concerns to the back
of her mind and refocused on the event at Twilight Teahouse rather
than her marriage. God, it was like having to continuously re-latch a
shudder that kept blowing open in a storm. She really wanted to keep
thinking about her husband rather than the duties she needed to
perform for their place of business right now.
Ugh.
A
quick press of the intercom button on her phone was followed by a
quick, “Dani, I’m getting dressed for Hinamatsuri
now. I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
“Yes,
ma’am.”
“Thanks.”
Out
of her chair, she kicked off her high heels and headed toward the
gorgeous outfit hanging on the back of the closed door. The morning
fog was finally beginning to burn off and the muted glow was giving
way to a bright sparkle of sunlight off the Sound. That same natural
light streamed in through the large windows and brought out the true
colors of the kimono she would wear today.
Removing
the protective plastic, Madison ran her hands over a purple and pink
silk kimono that was a gorgeous exercise in Japanese couture so
beautiful, a sigh of appreciation left her lips.
With
the push of a button, all of the blinds closed, leaving her office in
shadow. When she’d gotten in it had been pitch black outside. Even
now it was still quite early but even with the blinds closed, there
was still a pleasant glow off the glass and steel building so her
office was pleasantly dim rather than midnight dark.
With
a tired sigh that had more to do with where her mind was rather than
any kind of physical issue, Madison yanked her royal blue shift over
her head and off.
Then
she just…stood there.
Eyes
closed, the image of her husband, who was out taking care of her
to-do list, filled her head. In nothing but her bra and panties, she
stood in the middle of that floor, stocking-clad toes wriggling in
the plush carpet, and thought on the man who’d caused hope to
spring up in her chest. Hope that he was truly serious about being
here, being with her.
She
plopped down in her leather executive office chair, still warm from
her body heat, and let her mind go where it willed.
Kinson.
Kinson Lee. Yogi extraordinaire…who had taken a red-eye home,
rented a car and drove straight here from the airport, sent her
breakfast, and canceled his upcoming yoga retreats where he’d been
scheduled to teach.
Totally
capable of running her life and her business on her own, it didn’t
change the fact that she needed him in her life as her partner, not
just in her bed…though the bed would be nice. God, when was the
last time she’d truly enjoyed a raunchy, messy, all-over-the-house
romping good time with her man?
And
he was so drool-worthy when he’d stuck his head into her office
just a little while ago. Even with the dark circles under his eyes
and the exhaustion rolling off of his body, he was still the epitome
of delicious.
But
there was more to Kinson than looks. The man was steadfast and
capable. When he was paying a-fucking-tention, he was as giving a
lover as she could have ever asked for. And he could handle her
bullheaded tendencies with a loving stubbornness of his own. In fact,
he was probably the only person she knew that could successfully get
her to rest.
“Madison,
sit your butt down somewhere before I turn it another color. Work
will be there tomorrow. It’s not going anywhere.”
How
many times had he told her that over the years? Well, not lately, but
still. Her skin heated at the thought of his wonderfully-delivered
spankings—just enough sting on this side of pleasure that she
couldn’t really call it a punishment. As tension coiled between her
shoulder blades, Madison lifted her hips and eased her underwear down
and off. A chuckle escaped when she caught them on the tip of her
shoe and kicked them across the room.
Her
hand eased beneath the cup of her lacy demi-bra to palm a full
breast. Madison moaned at the contact, even as her head filled with
images of her husband, naked, ready and willing.
When
his hands were on her skin, it felt nothing like when she touched
herself. His touch was electric. Alive. Made her blood flash beneath
the skin.
She
twisted and rolled a nipple until it was a ripe berry between the
fingertips. The other hand dipped low and teased the plump lips of
her sex until the flesh tingled, eager for more.
Kinson’s
name escaped her lips as her spine began a slow undulation that soon
became an eager grind of her hips as her fingers pressed into the
honey that began to gather at her entrance.
Her
legs were spread wide now, one over each chair arm. God, she wished
she had a battery operated boyfriend right now. Obviously she was
coiled up tight and needed the release.
The
soft click of the door closing followed by the deep rumble of male
appreciation had her jumping out of her skin.
“Damn,
that’s a sexy sight.”
“Kinson!
I told Dani I was not to be disturbed.”
“And
I see why.”
Stalking Nayla by Yvette Hines
Nayla is being hunted. Shimar has to keep her safe, but convincing her she’s his mate is the real challenge.
Hurrying,
she was at almost a run. The revving engine let her know that her
pursuers had picked up speed too. Coming to the end of the deck, she
saw an alleyway between the deck and the store. She considered
ducking into it, but thought against it.
That’s
how women get caught in movies.
“Bitch,
stop!”
Pressing
her hand to her chest to make sure the thin wallet stashed at the
side of one of her breasts didn’t pop out, she began to run. Her
low heels tapped fiercely on the concrete.
“Ah!”
She screamed and struggled as someone grabbed her arm and yanked.
Dragged
into the dark alleyway and pressed against the cool cement of the
store, she fought against her captor blindly.
“Let
me go, asshole!” She swung her fist and bucked her body as the grip
tightened on one wrist and the weight of someone angled into her.
“Calm
down—”
“You’ve
messed with the wrong woman!” She bucked. Her language ghetto and
menacing, evidence of her true roots. “Bastard, get off—”
His
strength overpowered her, as he kept a hand over her mouth. “I’m
not going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Mister
Amber Eyes was staring down at her. He had six inches or so over her
five ten height. She wasn’t sure where he’d come from, but a part
of her mind was glad he was there.
She
preferred this stranger to the group in the car, evidenced by her
body’s response to him. Yes, her heart was racing, and it would be
easy to see it as a fact of her running for her life. However, that
didn’t explain her taut nipples, the instant ache in her body or
the throbbing of her clit.
The
raw scent of cinnamon and sage drew her to him, made her crave his
naked skin sliding along her own.
What
in the hell?
This was no time for her to become aroused. There were men out to get
her.
His
own gaze was intense as he stared at her, hard. His muscles were
tense, not just from holding her, but bunching and flexing as if he
fought within himself. There was a deep V over the bridge of his nose
as if he were perplexed about something. She even became aware of a
slight tremor that shook his form.
With
his hand still over her mouth, she couldn’t question him.
There
was a wide arc of light coming from the street as the vehicle came to
the alley.
“She
went down there.” Someone shouted.
The
alley was wide enough for a garbage truck to pass through, allowing
the car plenty of space to pass.
She
wiggled, trying to indicate to her stranger that they needed to go.
Soon, the headlights would spotlight them and they’d be caught.
“Be
still.” His voice was strong, sure, husky. “Trust me?”
Unsure
why he questioned her on that since they hadn’t even really met, or
why she was nodding her answer that she did. But, at the center of
her core, her very being, she trusted them man.
The
car barreled toward them, the beam illuminating the walls and trash
littering the alleyway as it drew closer. Any moment the two of them
would be spotted.
He
leaned in closer and laid his mouth against her ear. “Forgive me,”
he whispered, his warm breath captivating her, seducing her senses.
Forgive
hi—
Like
a strike of lightning, his hand was under her dress and between her
thighs. He circumvented the edge her thong and was inside of her.
Two
thick fingers were thrust all the way in her sex.
Shocked
didn’t begin to explain how she felt. She squeaked and pressed her
fists into his chest trying to move him.
“Keep
still,” he growled the order.
She
froze, as the headlights landed on them.
“Where
the fuck is she?”
The
harsh rays kept her from seeing who was speaking as the car stopped.
I’m
right here. Why can’t they see us standing right here?
Three
car doors slammed.
Shivers
raced through her. We’re
caught.
Mr. May
Prescription for Love by Seressia Glass
She’s just what the doctor ordered in Prescription for Love
His
quiet assurances had more of an impact on her than flirting, driving
a need to deflect the curious squishiness in her chest. “You’re
just saying that because you want to get in my pants.”
“I’m
saying it because it’s true.”
She
placed the last of the food in the fridge. “So you don’t want to
get in my pants?”
“Of
course I want to get in your pants—I’m not dead. Or stupid.
Because I’m neither dead or stupid, I know just telling you how hot
and beautiful you are isn’t going to work.”
“What
do you think will work?”
“Being
real. Being honest.” Dark eyes swept over her as he stepped closer,
his nearness heating her skin. “I’m attracted to you, you know
that. It started with you smiling at me while you sang along to
Beyoncé. It continued with the verbal karate match we had at your
sister’s place. By the time you started flirting with me, I was
already hooked.”
“Wait.
I flirted with you? Are you sure that wasn’t the other way around?”
“I
was in the kitchen minding my own business when you glided in like a
goddess about to bless me.” He grinned, and her stomach clenched.
“Which you did.”
“Alex...”
He
cupped her cheeks. “I want you, Jasmine. I’ve made no secret of
that. I want to taste you, touch you, take my time exploring you. I
want to discover what makes you sigh, what makes you moan, and what
makes you scream. I want you even more now that I’ve finally had a
chance to kiss you.”
Goodness.
That...that wasn’t flirting. That was a bold-faced declaration of
intent.
Desire
pinched his features tight as he stared down at her. “Am I alone in
this? Am I alone in wanting to know how good we’ll be together?”
“No.”
The intensity of his gaze and the electricity of his touch combined
to steal all thought except one. “Need to kiss you.”
“Yes.
Hell, yes.”
Mr. June
Solomon’s Quest by Serenity King
He’s determined to protect her, but the secrets she keeps may destroy her.
Tabitha
swiped her room key, opening the door. Before she’d had a chance to
enter, Solomon had pushed past her to cross the threshold ahead of
her.
Following
swiftly on his heels—she opened her mouth to protest, but instead
collided into his back with a thud when he abruptly stopped room.
He’d gone stiff as a board. Tabitha could practically feel the
angry energy emanating from his being.
On
instinct, she shifted her gaze to see what had caused him to suddenly
stop in his tracks. Her eyes narrowed and moved with precision around
the room: left, center, right, and back again; right, center, left.
The room was in shambles. The covers from the mattress had been
tossed, all of the dresser drawers were open, and the contents of her
carryall were in a heap on top of the bed.
She
clenched her keycard in her hand—her knuckles straining against the
card; her body trembled with anger. It took everything in her not to
scream out the fury that she felt.
“Who
knew you were staying at this particular hotel?” Solomon asked, his
face expressionless.
His
words reverberated around the room, and she repeated them in her
head, Who
knew you were staying in this particular hotel?
That was a good question. Who?
“No
one. I purposely chose not to stay in the hotel with the bridal party
and the other models; however, I did book
a room there, and I also checked in,” Tabitha replied, her voice
somber.
Think
back Tabitha. What did you miss?
Again,
she scanned the room quickly, trying to commit everything to memory.
To her trained eye, nothing appeared to be missing—just messy. She
did, however, notice a lone piece of paper sitting in plain site in
the middle of the mess on the bed. Tabitha recognized the shape and
color of the slip of paper; she’d seen it often enough in the past
year. She hoped Solomon didn’t notice it too. Now she only had to
get to it before Solomon thought anything of it.
Tabitha
made to move and was quickly halted by the sharp piercing tone of
Solomon’s voice.
“Don’t
you dare move, Tabitha,” Solomon snarled.
“Nonsense.
I have to check my things,” she scolded.
“Not
before we call the authorities,” he countered.
“No!”
she said abruptly. Realizing that her tone may have been a little too
brusque, she spoke more softly. “I mean not yet. Please.” Her
eyes pleaded with him. She saw his hesitation. “Trust me Solomon.”
Tabitha
went to move past him, but his outstretched arm held her back.
“If
you’re trying to beat me to that lone piece of paper in the middle
of the bed, don’t bother,” he said knowingly, moving swiftly to
the bed to retrieve it.
She
hurried after him. It was the same as before. The paper was folded in
two and was of high quality—linen to be exact. Inside the fold was
a lock of brownish black hair. The scrawling on the paper was sharp
and precise. It read, Peek-a-boo
I see you.
Tabitha’s
breath caught in her throat. It took all of her training not to cry
out in frustration. In the blink of an eye, she suddenly went from
shocked to furious. I
am going to get you, you crazed maniac. You and your minions,
she thought to herself.
“Since
you don’t want to call the authorities, you can’t stay here
tonight. I’ll get someone over here to clean this mess up,”
Solomon said tersely. “You are going to tell me what’s going on
Tabitha. This is personal. I know you’re a part of an agency. Which
one, I don’t know yet. This,” he said, holding up the note, “has
nothing to do with any agency. This is real personal.”
Tabitha
was relieved that though he was furious, he spoke in hushed, even
tones, as he’d done since they’d entered the room. He knew the
score.
She
watched as he walked over to the air conditioner and turned it on
full blast. He then walked over to the bathroom and kitchenette area
and turned on the water.
“I
can’t be seen with you Solomon.” Her voice shook.
“It’s
too late now. Undoubtedly, someone’s watching you. There are
security cameras all around. Anyone who really wants to know will.
Are you married to anything in this room?” he asked, over the loud
hum of the air conditioner and running water.
“No,”
she answered, her voice scruffy.
“Good.
I need to make a call,” he said, walking closer to her.
Mr. July
One Hot Dare by Michelle Monkou
When to serve and protect escalates into a sexy dangerous game.
The
cure, the final chance at a normal life, had failed.
There
were signs—shortness of breath, heart palpitations, weakness in the
extremities, and indescribable pain. These symptoms he’d paid to be
suppressed mimicked a raging viral attack. He was desperate to do
anything to stop the curse that ran through his blood.
Ken
Tenaka squeezed his eyes shut. A sharp pain zigzagged a lightening
path through his head, from back to front. Please let this be it.
What more could he do to get peace of mind? Sucking in deep breaths,
he mentally tried to push back the increasing surges of adrenalin
that scared the hell out of him. The turbo blasts to his system left
him lightheaded and winded, as if caught up on a malfunctioning
merry-go-round.
Mr. August
All The Small Things by Stephanie Burke
The more unbearable the pain, the richer the rewards
From
this point on, he could not lie to Tego and Tego would not lie to
him. The drive to please his alpha would almost be as strong as his
desire to pamper his omega.
“Who
are they?” he asked again, knowing this time he would get an
answer.
His
pate pulled back, his submissive whimpers turning into low growls.
“Who?”
Had someone touched his omega before? Had someone defiled his
perfection? He sniffed harder, lowering his head to sniff at his
crotch as his mate whimpered, again. “Who?”
“My
brothers,” his mate gasped, fear scent blotting out the joy scent
that once saturated his pheromones. “My re-responsibility. My baby
brothers—”
Tego
whimpered, his voice sounding apologetic as he shook in Daiki’s
grasp.
The
alpha nearly felt shame at his reactions, but swiftly pushed that
emotion aside. There was a lot he didn’t know about his omega,
about taking an American mate, and he had a sharp learning curve.
He
chuffed soothingly and lapped at the skin of his mate’s neck. It
was a simple misunderstanding.
His
mate’s fear eased, but the scent of worry remained. As he pulled
back, huge liquid eyes gazed back at him and Daiki could see him
force back the wolf and his humanity took over.
As
he watched, the meek shy omega...he assumed he now possessed...
turned into a snarling snapping demon within the blink of an eye.
“Get
the fuck off of me!” he roared, lashing out as he scrambled
backwards.
Instead
of being outraged, the alpha was shocked to find that his wolf
appreciated the fight in his mate. He looked down as a sting in his
chest registered and he discovered that now only was his mate strong,
he possessed more of a wolfly instinct that he had assumed. There
were four parallel rents that cut straight through his kimono and
haori that exposed the sluggishly bleeding scratches in his skin.
It
turned him on more than he thought possible. He felt his cock swell
and his already heated blood race through his veins.
Yes,
his mate was dangerous, protective, and knew how to use the weapons
that nature gave him.
He
looked back to his mate and grinned as he saw how he managed to put a
lot of room between them, looking like he was fighting against
himself as he glared balefully at him. The fear scent was gone,
replaced by one of anger and defiance as he deliberately brought his
fingers to his lips and delicately lapped the blood from his
fingertips.
He
smiled, exposing his fangs as he began to stalk his mate.
“Brothers,”
he spoke softly, watching as his mate suddenly looked weary as he
tried to shift to his feet. But his wolf was rapidly taking over as
his silver eyes took on a alight gold sheen. Still on his knees, he
backed away more, keeping a good distance between them. “How
commendable.”
“Mine,”
his mate hissed back. “My brothers. My Angels. My responsibility.”
“Will
you protect our cubs so diligently?” he wondered out load, an
amused smile pulling at his lips as his mate’s eyes read delight at
the thought of his own cubs before his human mind tamped down the
wolf.
“My
brothers. My responsibility,” he growled, lowering his head and
protecting his neck as if he imagined attacking Daiki if he made so
much as a move to harm his charges.
“Your
parents—“
“Dead,”
his mate growled and Daiki froze.
“Dead?”
he blinked back the wolf and startled as he scented grief from his
mate. “Your clan—“
“No
clan,” he answered, his eyes looking leery as he stopped retreating
now that Daiki had stopped advancing. “Just me.”
Daiki
whimpered in shared grief. As much as sometimes his clan annoyed him
or outright angered him, he knew that they would always be there for
him, would always be his pack. He could not imagine life along. Was
this common here in America or was there something special about his
mate?
He
suddenly understood the need for his mate to appear so powerful, to
have shorn his hair in the manner of an alpha, for his readiness to
attack at the mere thought of someone harming his angels. His mate
was a lone wolf.
He
whined in sadness and stepped closer to his omega, reaching for him,
pouring out the scents calmness and understanding as he approached.
His
mate, though still weary looking, allowed him closer, though his
hissed a bit and raised his hands in a defensive maneuver before he
got too close. Daiki stopped and dropped to his knees.
Even
here, he was taller than his mate, more intimidating thought he
thought Tego would feel some measure of comfort in knowing that his
alpha was larger than him.
“My
Angels,” Tego chuffed again, the wolf taking over as his body began
to tremble and push pheromones that read the need for protection and
comfort.
“We
will retrieve you angels,” he nodded once as he settled comfortably
and placed his hands on his thighs. “We will bring your angels to
safety.”
Then
an appalled thought crossed his mind. “Where are they? Did I take
you from them?” If that was the case, then he would rush down and
retrieve them. They would carry the clan scent from Tego... No. He
could not leave his mate. Pre-bonding had begun. If he left now,
anyone could come in and challenge him when he was most vulnerable
and steal his mate.
Human
and wolf selves vied for dominance. His thoughts were whirling. He
had to protect the mate, but he had to protect those under his mate’s
care. His brothers, baby brothers, he had said, were alone and
defenseless... but then so was his omega. He didn’t know what to
do. The wolf was goring inpatient and the human was getting angry.
There
was something he could do, someone he could call... but his Clan was
away and he only had his betas and...
A
touch to his hand brought his eyes up to see his mate had approached.
Posed to flee if necessary, Tego had managed to move close enough to
him to touch his hand with one single finger.
Though
his hands were larger than any omega he had ever touched, they
managed, despite their size, to hold the delicate look of an omega.
His nails were shiny and sharp, his fingers slim and narrow. He had
the most capable and vulnerable looking hands he had ever seen.
“My
brothers?” he asked, the wolf gold in his eyes retreating as if he
would flee if he didn’t receive the proper response to his request.
Daiki
blinked and his human-self pushed the answer forward as his wolf-self
marveled at his mate. Betas.
“My—our
betas... they will retrieve The Tenshi.”
Some
of the wariness eased, though his mate still appeared cautious.
“My
responsibility,” he muttered, looking lost.
“Our
responsibility.” He corrected. Yes, the beta who had seemed so
protective yet obediently when he used his sword. This beta would
retrieve the Tenshi.
Mr. September
Inferno by Aliyah Burke
Sometimes the flames aren’t meant to be put out.
A
woman stood outside on the phone, staring at him with a mix of horror
and shock. Or so he figured given her expression.
“I
don’t know,” she said as he neared. “I’m giving it five more
minutes then I’m leaving. I don’t care, Regina, not even for the
tiniest little fuck.”
He
winked at her. Cute little thing even with the scowling disposition.
She had a pale pink leather newsboy on her head, an oversized
zippered gray hoodie with Shreveport written across the front. Her
jeans fit snugly, showing off nice legs and an ass. She had tennis
shoes on, toes turned in toward each other.
Exasperation
filled her features as her phone call continued. With a curse, she
pulled it from her ear and shoved it in her pocket then stormed back
to the door. He lengthened his stride and reached the door the same
time she did and held it for her.
“Thank
you.” Her tone was short.
He
entered and scoured the area for his grandfather. The old codger sat
in the back. Striding up to him, he slid over the naguahyde bench
seat. They stared at each other until his grandfather yawned.
“Have
you gone to see Ma and Da?”
“No.”
Such
finality in that single word.
Bastian
poured himself some coffee, using one of the overturned mugs. Adding
a liberal dose of sugar and cream he stirred it until the liquid
appeared properly mixed.
“You
said you needed my help. I’m here. What with?”
“I
promise friend you help.”
An
itch between his shoulder blades was born and grew as quickly as a
fire could turn. “Doing what?”
He
shrugged and Bastian groaned.
“very
well. Where is your friend?”
His
grandfather pointed and he turned in the seat to see. The same woman
he’d held the door for was on her way back outside.
Facing
his Pops again, he lifted one eyebrow. “Really? You befriended a
young black woman?”
“Why
shocked? I no racist.”
“Because
you’re an old crotchety ass.”
His
lips thinned below his mustache. “Go talk. Her name, Jazz.”
Bastian
finished his drink and pushed to his feet. Suspicious? Definitely.
His gramps used to speak English well. I’m
going to regret this.
He paused on his way to the door, pausing once to glance over his
shoulder. The old man shooed him along with a gesture. Back outside,
he maneuvered behind her. The phone was back to her ear.
“Because
I’m not happy, Regina. I’m not even sure what his grandson looks
like. I’m surrounded by hillbillies.”
He
cleared his throat. She turned slowly before her eyes widened as she
gazed him over.
“I
have to go,” she muttered, then returned the phone to her pocket.
“Can I help you?”
Her
voice was husky with an accent which was familiar but he couldn’t
quite place at the moment.
He
almost smiled. “I believe I’m the hillbilly
supposed to help you.”
Mr. October
Wicked Games by Maureen Smith
Some games are too dangerous to play.
Mr. November
The Ultimate Goal by Di Topaz
Will Justice and Angelique put their difference aside and go for the Ultimate Goal?
Angelique could not believe the feeling that caused her body to
tingle. She’d had orgasms before, but none that compared to the one
she’d just experienced. It was so massive it could, from her
perspective, count as more than one. She could not move. She wanted
to lift her body onto her high bed, but that was a task she was not
ready for as of yet. Her legs were still unstable. When she’d
purchased the bed she thought of how sexy it would be. Never did she
think she’d be too exhausted to get into the bed.
When she finally opened her eyes, she looked down into Justice’s
face. He still sat kneeling before her. She focused on his eyes and
they had darkened with passion. She reached down and rubbed her hand
across his face. He tilted his head and kissed her hand. The slight
movement melted her heart. That was the motivation she needed to
finally stand on her own.
Pushing away from the side of the bed, she reached for his hand. He
placed his into hers and finally rose to his feet. She was quickly
reminded that his bottom half was still covered with clothing.
Placing her hand at the waistband of the sweatpants she pulled them
over his hips. His member sprang forward ready for action. She had
never been one of those people who believed in stereotypes. He was
blessed with both girth and length.
“I have condoms in there,” she said as she pointed toward the
nightstand.
Justice wasted no time. He quickly stepped out of his pants and went
to retrieve them. The shocked look on his face was enough to have her
wondering if she’d left her magic mike there instead.
“What in the world?” he asked.
He lifted his hand from the drawer holding several packages of
condoms. All sizes and styles rained from his fingers. He looked at
her with raised eyebrows.
“Hey, a girl can’t be too careful,” she laughed.
Mr. December
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