Alpha Bully (Wolf Ridge High 1)

Then I figure it out. “You’re nervous.”

Of course she’s nervous. She’s a total noob and I laid a lot of expectation on this encounter—blow job, spanking—every fantasy I’ve jacked off to all week.

Vulnerability flickers over her face.

“Am I going too fast?”

She stops breathing altogether, still looking up at me with doe eyes. Trapped in the headlights doe-eyes.

I release her and pick up her hand. “We don’t have to do this. Come on, let’s go for a ride, instead.” The last thing I’ll do is pressure a virgin. That’s not me. I want a girl willing and enjoying herself.

Scratch that. I want Bailey willing and enjoying herself.

I have zero interest in other girls at the moment. And I don’t want to unpack what that means.

Without waiting for her to agree or disagree, I make the decision I know is right and grab the food and lead her out. I’ll save locker fantasy for another day.

Bailey

A mixture of relief and disappointment runs through me as we walk hand-in-hand to the parking lot. There are a few other cars in the lot—who knows, maybe they belong to the janitors.

Cole was right; I was nervous. Stupid me had to lay the expectation of a blowjob and now he’s expecting it and I panicked because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You lick it like a popsicle was the advice Catrina had shared a million years ago but somehow that advice seems a bit lacking now. Surely there’s more to it. And why didn’t I just GTS—Google That Shit—before today?

So now I feel a little bit foolish, mostly relieved, and a million times melty inside at how sweet Cole was about it.

Where’s the alpha-hole posturing? I thought he’d order me on my knees and tell me what to do.

Okay, actually, that’s hot.

And it might make all this easier than me pretending I know what I’m doing.

Cole releases my hand to fish through the take-out bag and pull out his burger as we walk. “This was really fucking thoughtful, Pink,” he say with his mouth full. I take the bag so he can use both hands and reach in for a single fry.

Cole shakes his head “You’re like a fucking kitten, all dainty with your food. Humans are so delicate.”

“Humans?”

“I mean girls.” He’s still woofing down the burger, which is almost gone. “It’s cute, Pink.” He pops the last third of the burger in his mouth. “You’re adorable.”

I try to hide the glow of pleasure his words bring. “Holy shit. Did you even chew?”

He grins. “I don’t remember.”

I pull his fries out and juggle the bag to put ketchup on them before I hand them over.

“You ketchuped my fries.” He sounds surprised.

“Oh. Sorry—do you not like ketchup?”

“I do like ketchup. I like you working to please me even more.”

I stop walking in exaggerated offense.

Cole shoots that lopsided smirk my way and holds out his hand to take mine. “Don’t get pissed, Pink. I promise all the rewards.”

I take his hand. We were heading toward his truck, but he stops and looks around the parking lot for my car.

“Let me drive your new baby?”

I fish my keys out of my purse. “Sure. Seeing as how you let me drive yours. Forced me, actually.”

“And rewarded you,” he reminds me with a waggle of his brows that brings heat to my cheeks.

And what a reward it was.

My body heats at the memory.

“Have you named it yet?” Cole asks as he swings into my compact car and adjusts the seat back as far as it goes.

I snort. “Do you even fit?”

“I’ve been asked that before,” he boasts and I roll my eyes.

“I haven’t thought of a name I love yet. What do you think?”

He turns the key, considering. “You could call it New Start. You know, for driving again and moving here.”

Grief rolls over me like a wave. The moments are shorter now. Quicker. I could lean into them and go back to the depressed state I lived in for the last six months or I can just let them pass through me and acknowledge that it’s part of the process. I let it pass and swallow. “New Start it is. Good name.”

Cole pulls out of the school parking lot, appearing pleased. I never would’ve pegged him for a name your car kind of guy, but he does seem to love his truck.

“What’s your truck’s name?”

“The Captain,” he says proudly.

“First name The, last name Captain?”

“That’s right, smart ass.”

“It’s a great truck. You rebuilt it yourself, right?”

“Yep. Bought it for one hundred bucks off Bo’s brother Winslow. Their uncle owns Wolf Ridge Body Shop—the one down on the corner of Mountain and McGee?”

I nod even though I don’t really have my bearings in Wolf Ridge yet. I only just started driving this week.

“I work there on weekends with Bo. Have since we were twelve. When there’s no paid work to do, I work on The Captain. It’s almost ready for a new paint job, but I haven’t had the money.”