Alpha Bully (Wolf Ridge High 1)
“Oh!” I cry out in shock.
He squeezes the place he just spanked, rubbing away the sting. My whole body bursts into flames, sizzling under his touch. “You want to be punished? I get to be the guy who gives it. Not you.” He spanks the other side, just as hard.
I cry out again, but the pain instantly morphs into heat. Especially with his large palm massaging and rubbing. “Cole,” I whimper.
He rubs some more. “Fuck, baby. I love it when you say my name like that.”
I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, I vaguely do, but I’m still a virgin. And this is beyond Advanced Placement sex. This is graduate school level. Is this even sex? I can’t be sure, I only know that the thrills running through my body, the lust curling my toes, is enough energy to power a large city.
“Cole.” I can’t help myself. I don’t even say it because he wants me to. I just whimper because I want more. Need more. And I’m not even sure what more means.
“Say yes, Cole.” He strokes between my legs, but not over my slit. Off to the side, just brushing where I want him to be. He’s purposely teasing me. He delivers three hard slaps in a row. “I’m going to do the punishing. Tell me you agree.”
My stomach flip flops. Squirms. Excitement rages. “Yeah. Maybe,” I agree.
“Yes,” he corrects firmly. “You know I need to be the guy who punishes you. And you need me to do it. Right?”
Yes is on the tip of my tongue. He has me mesmerized. All good sense thrown out the window. But I hang on to a scrap of reason. “I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to.”
His hand strokes over my ass, kneading and squeezing, circling. He rests his other hand beside me on the seat cushion and leans down to meet my gaze. “I’m going to take care of you, Bailey.”
It sounds like a promise. Again, I’m not sure what it means, but I believe him. I believe his sincerity. “Okay,” I whisper.
Satisfaction lights his gaze and he pulls up, then slides a hand beneath my knees to pick me up and slide me behind the wheel.
I panic. “No.” I try to get out, but he blocks my way. “You’re driving,” he growls. “Tonight.”
My hands flutter to the wheel but I look up at him, pleading for mercy. “I can’t.”
He catches my face between both hands and kisses me hard. “You can. And you will.” He slams the door and walks around to the passenger side, then climbs in.
“Here.” He hands me the keys. “Do you know how to drive a manual?”
“Yes.” I drove a Subaru back in Colorado. My mom wanted me to learn on a manual so I’d have that skill. My hands tremble as I put the key in, press the clutch and brake down and start it. “What would you do if I didn’t?”
“Teach you,” he says immediately. Like it’s a no-brainer. He points to the street. “Take a right out of here.”
I draw in a shaky breath. His truck is so different from the Subaru or my mom’s car, that it doesn’t ignite the PTSD as badly. I check that the gear is in first and ease off the clutch. There’s a lurch that makes me scream, but then we’re on the road driving. I’m breathing hard, my heart beating as I nervously check and recheck the rearview mirrors, but it’s fine. There’s no traffic.
I’m driving!
Cole directs me up toward the mountains. At first I think we’re going to the same secret playground, but instead he guides me to an overlook. “Park it here,” he orders and I do, relieved to turn the truck off and collapse back against the seat.
“You did it.” Cole’s grin is boyish. Happy. It’s an incredible look on him, devastating, really. Shifting position to face me, he puts one knee on the long seat cushion and braces the other against the floor. “Now your reward.”
In a flash, he grabs my waist and pulls me to my back on the seat, my dress hiked up to my waist.
“Cole!” That seems to be the only word I’m capable of, and in the next moment, I lose the ability to articulate at all, because Cole shoves my panties to the side and presses his mouth to my pussy.
I jerk at the soft contact of his lips against my most sensitive parts. When he uses his tongue, I nearly pop off the seat. He has to pin my pelvis down, hold me in place as he strokes his tongue all up and down my slit, tracing my inner lips, flicking it at the apex, where the clit is supposed to be, but I’ve never really found it.
Doesn’t matter. Cole knows where it is. He tortures me, lapping, sucking, nipping. I squeal and wriggle. Moan and whimper.