The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

I carry her in through the back door, taking the steps two at a time. I blow past her apartment and slide the key into my lock, kicking open the door.

As I carry her inside, she starts struggling again. I shut the door and stride to the couch, where I plop down and pull her over my knee. Now that the idea’s in my head, I can’t let it go.

“Never, ever run from a wolf.” I deliver three hard slaps to her tight little ass. How I keep from squeezing it when I’m done, I’m not sure.

“Ow,” she yelps and kicks. “Knock it off.”

Her wriggling only turns me on more. I can’t resist three more spanks, just as hard. The scent of her arousal fills the room. The need to fuck hits me so hard, I have to pause with my hand splayed over her ass. And she waits, silent, draped over my knees like the good little submissive she is.

Got your number, princess.

I shove the short skirt up and nearly groan at the sight of her panties. Fucking pink satin. With tiny black bows at the bottom of each cheek. The curves beneath the fabric blush with my handprints. My wolf howls with satisfaction. “Oh that’s pretty, baby,” I murmur.

She starts to wriggle again, so I pick up spanking, slapping her panty-clad ass with slow, deliberate strokes.

“You never run from a wolf because it triggers our hunting instinct. You don’t want to be caught by the animal, baby. Not a delicate little human like you.”

She lets out a wanton moan and rolls her hips to and fro as I spank her pert little ass. Her hip rubs over my aching cock, torturing me with every small movement.

I pull her panties up into her crack, baring more of her cute ass. Her cheeks are already rosy from the punishment I’ve laid down, but, now that I’ve started, I’m in no mood to stop. Not when it feels so good to master her. Not when she loves to hate it. I can tell because the sweet nectar of her arousal fills the room, driving my wolf mad with desire.

I slap her bare cheeks, the sound laying down the beat for her vocalizations-the cutest little cries and grunts.

Only when one cry sounds a little too much like a sob do I stop.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

Shit.

Did I go too far? Wolves are physical creatures. We’re swift to issue consequences-usually physical. Females get spanked by their mates. But she’s not one of us.

I rub her reddened cheeks, lift her up, and sit her on my lap. Her curves fit perfectly. “And do not let me catch you endangering your life like that again. You scared the crap out of me.”

“I scared you?”

Her little skirt is up to her waist, bare thigh and panties filling my eyes. My cock aches, and I bite back the growl rising in my throat.

“Let go of me.” She writhes as if she wants to get up, but when I lock my arms around her, excitement blooms in her scent.

My good girl likes being restrained.

I’ve never been with a human who likes rough play. Bedding humans is allowed-as long as we don’t let slip who we are. But humans don’t usually interest me. Too weak, delicate.

Not this little she devil. If she doesn’t stop fighting me, I will pin her face down on the floor and take her hard from behind, make her scream for a different reason. A far better reason.

But I have the feeling fucking her wouldn’t get her out of my system. Whoever this female is, she means something more to my wolf.

“Do you know what I do for a living?” she grinds out, still squirming. “I’m an attorney, and I will sue your sorry-”

“You’re not going to sue me,” I drawl.

“I will notify the police and file a restraining order and-”

Amber

“Shh,” my neighbor-my werewolf neighbor-soothes. He runs his hand over my bare thigh. I go still. Part of me wants to rip his eyes out, but the other part of me holds its breath, trembling under his caress, waiting to see what he’ll do next.

“You’re not going to call the cops, and you’re not going to file a lawsuit.” He is annoyingly certain.

My bottom stings and tingles from the smacks he delivered but my pussy is molten. What the hell is wrong with me?

“You don’t want to get into a battle of wills with me, because you won’t win.”

“Is that a threat?”

He chuckles, his hand slipping around the curve of my knee and sliding up my inner thigh. “No. It’s a fact.”

His arm hooks around my waist, pulling me close as I straddle his knee. His big hard thigh presses against my pussy. I rock down on it and let out a puff of air then immediately stiffen.

“You are so…” His eyes rove over me, lingering at the line of my cleavage. Damn this bra. “Cute.”

I will sue you, buddy. Sexual harassment. Infringement of tenant rights. A litany of law marches through my head, but his next words scramble every thought in my brain.

“And naughty.” He kneads my ass, still bare due to the wicked wedgie he gave me. A wonderful wedgie that also stimulates my clit. I rock my pelvis over his thigh, grinding down to stimulate the little nubbin.

Garrett barks out a curse, and his hands tighten on my ass. His eyes look more silver than blue. He flips me around to face away from him, as if I weigh nothing. My knees drape over his thighs, spread wide.

“You need relief, baby?” His voice is thick and growly. His fingers zero in on the exact place I need them, rubbing my clit over the satin of my panties. Garrett’s other hand cups my breast, kneading and squeezing. My nipples pucker under my bra, breasts ache and pulse in time with my clit, which he circles with the pad of a finger. “I need you to answer me.”

“Y-yes.” Panting, I reach down and yank the gusset of my panties aside for him.

Garrett groans. “Oh yeah, baby. That’s it. Offer that sweet little pussy to me.”

His digits are huge. They glide over my slit, which is embarrassingly wet. I tip my pelvis down to meet his touch, urge him on. He works his middle finger inside me.

It’s been forever since I’ve had sex, and I’m sure it shows because I’m almost orgasming the second his digit pumps inside me. I don’t recognize the sounds coming from my throat.

Garrett adds a second finger, stretching me.

I throw my head back on his shoulder, crying out with pleasure.

He thrusts them in and out, uses the heel of his hand against my clit until I’m nearly weeping with desire. When he abruptly pulls them out, my pussy clutches on emptiness. He delivers a sharp slap, right between my legs. “Naughty girl,” he growls in my ear.

My hips jack up.

He spanks my pussy again. A third time. Then, like he knows I’m about to blow, he shoves two fingers inside me and fucks me hard and rough, not holding back, delivering the intensity and speed I need to crest the peak.

I shriek and throw my head back on his shoulder, digging my nails into his forearms as I ride his digits, my hips bucking, pussy clenching, toes curling. My orgasm goes on and on while Garrett holds his fingers wedged inside me and I come all over them.

God help me. I’ve never lost control like that. Never allowed anyone to give me so much pleasure or to see me out of my mind.

He eases them out as I coast down the other side, my body going limp against his. His lips find my shoulder and he smooths my panties back in place. “That’s it, naughty girl,” he murmurs in my ear, then rearranges me to face him once more.

He brushes a strand of hair back from my face. “My naughty little human.” He emphasizes the last word, looking me in the eye, and it all comes rushing back. He’s a werewolf, and he knows I know.

I tense. What’s he going to do?

But werewolves don’t exist. I must have been off my rocker. “I’m not crazy,” I blurt.

His stern look softens a fraction. “I never said you were.”

“Are you… you’re not-”

He arches a brow. “Not what?”

“Werewolves don’t exist,” I repeat my assertion from earlier, but my gaze falls to his tattooed knuckles. The phases of the moon.

Oh God. He’s definitely a werewolf.

I try to bolt again, but he holds me easily, his arm like a steel band around my waist.

“Wh-” I clear my throat. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know. First I need you to answer some questions for me.” He sounds serious now.

“Like what?”

He shifts me to the side. Taking my hands, he turns them over, examining my arms. “Are you hurt at all, baby?”

Biting back tears, I shake my head. There he goes, taking care of me again.

“Good.” He lifts me from his knee and sits me on the coffee table in front of him, holding both my hands in one of his big paws. The intensity of his gaze makes me blush again. At last, he asks, “How did you know?”

I try to jerk my hands free, but he holds me fast, adding his other hand almost like he’s comforting me, rather than holding me captive. I pull harder.

“Hey,” he says. “Settle down. I’m not going to hurt you, but I do need you to answer me.”

“There is no answer,” I rasp. I don’t talk about my visions, ever. Last time I did, I was thirteen, and it cost me my foster home. I learned quickly that people don’t like having their secrets spilled for them. I don’t know how I let my knowing slip this time.

Garrett just waits, holding me without effort, saying nothing.

I slump. He’s not going to let me go until I tell him. “Sometimes I just know things,” I mumble. “I see them, like fast-forward pictures.”

“What do you mean?”

I stare at a hole in his jeans, wishing I had just stayed at Foxfire’s place. Sent a moving company to get my stuff, found a way to avoid Garrett for the rest of my life.

But I didn’t. Because, deep down, I wanted to see him. Needed to know if the vision was true.

“Amber?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I really don’t. Sometimes I see stuff I wish I hadn’t. Like dead people or the future-usually something bad, like accidents or deaths.” I remember asking my foster mom why the two buildings in New York caught fire and fell-two months before the 9/11 attacks. That family returned me in a hurry after it came true. “I don’t do it on purpose. I hate it, actually.”

“You’re psychic.”

I jerk my hand out of his and swipe at my face. My hair’s fallen out of my updo. I probably look a mess. Crazy Amber, the psychic. All I need is to carry a deck of Tarot cards, wear flowy skirts, and cover my apartment with crystals. Oh, and burn incense. Then I can hang up a shingle and tell fortunes.

Garrett’s watching me, stone cold serious. I swallow hard. I know he’s a werewolf. Probably something he doesn’t want getting out.

My fear from earlier returns: I might die tonight. But no, if he wanted me to die, he would’ve let me fall off the balcony. Unless he needed to question me first.

“Did you tell your friend?”

Right. This is what he needed to know. “Foxfire? No. She passed out on the way home.”

“Are you going to tell her?”