Her Alpha Lover: A Draken and Charli Boxed Set Read online

  "Sure!"

  "No problem!"

  "We'll hang in there."

  "Somehow!"

  She flushed, fisting her hands at her side, and after a couple of deep breaths, began talking again. After what he'd done to her nipples, her body was screaming its shame visibly. Each and every man there could see the signs: Her breasts were pink and swollen, her nipples were begging, and she could smell her own wetness.

  They knew what she wanted.

  Totally and utterly humiliating.

  Draken's expression was smug. Suddenly she quivered from head to foot with rage. Even more than rage, though, she wanted to throw herself down on the conference table and pull Draken down on top of her and damn the voyeurs. It was that bad.

  She shouldn't let him get to her. Any of them.

  It was just...she needed her nipples sucked. So. Much. Needed to claw her fingers into the muscles of that man's arms and chest. Totally needed the thrust of his cock. It didn't matter that she didn't know him from Adam, that she had never had a purely sexual experience in her life before—that she wasn't a player. She yearned for sex with Draken Almatto. Now. If he asked her, she'd do it just like an animal. Open her legs and bellow as he took her in front of a group of men.

  And ruin her fucking life.

  Hate you, Mr. Almatto.

  "Ah, Ms. Fontina, could you raise your voice? I'm having some trouble hearing you," somebody said.

  Charli nodded and made herself speak more loudly, which only emphasized the tremor in her voice. She had lost track of what ridiculousness she was spouting now. What time was it? Was it almost over? God, she just wanted to run away and hide. But no.

  Her breasts felt humongous.

  Pretend. Pretend everything is normal. She spoke faster, but that garnered only chuckles.

  No, no. It's too mortifying. They all know. They can see. They know your panties are soaked through. She looked aside, sucking in much-needed air as she began to hyperventilate.

  "Ms. Fontina," Draken said sharply. "Calm down. Things got a little intense for a bit. But we're not going to eat you, as much as we might want to. You're doing fine. Isn't she?'

  A chorus of voices rushed to reassure her she was doing very well.

  "You're giving an impressive performance today. Just a few more minutes and you're done," Draken said.

  Somehow Charli managed to curtail her panic. The atmosphere in the room seemed to soften. Now the expressions on the men's faces were a little sheepish.

  "Better, Ms. Fontina?"

  She nodded.

  "Good. You have kick-ass tits, by the way. Doesn't she?"

  There was a general assent. Charli couldn't believe it when she responded to the praise like a dog, all but wagging her tail. Draken's voice warmed. "They feel good, too. Nice to squeeze, and the nipples are incredibly responsive. Every guy here wanted to do what I did."

  Oh, God.

  Draken laughed. "No need to be embarrassed, Ms. Fontina. And your presentation isn't half bad, either. I would like you to go over a few points again, though." His gentle cadence was designed to calm her. "Can you do that for us?"

  "Yes, Mr. Almatto."

  "There's one more thing I need you to do first, though," he said, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it behind him. Heavens, his shoulders were broad. "Just reach under your skirt and stick your finger into your panties and rub your pussy. Then come around here and show us your finger."

  Her lips parted in shock. "Wh-wh-what?"

  "I think you heard me, Ms. Fontina," he said lazily. "Or actually—could I call you Charli?"

  Shit. Blushing. So much blushing. "No," she cried.

  His brows rose. "You want us to stay formal?" He began to laugh.

  "Yes—I mean no—what you said. No f-finger."

  His eyes gleamed. "So our deal's off?"

  "But it wasn't—we never talked about—"

  "Come on, Charli. Every man here just saw you practically have an orgasm just from having your nipples fondled. We'd love to see exactly what your pussy looks like right now, but we'll settle for a finger. Present it, or you void our agreement."

  The bastard. The utter bastard. His gentleness had been a ruse. He was trying to back out. Or was he bluffing?

  She wouldn't let him ruin this. She'd come too far.

  But to stick her hand...oh, fuck. Just imagining it made her juices squirt.

  She looked around wildly. The men looked delighted and amused and a bit sympathetic. Definitely lustful.

  "None of you better breathe a word," she choked out.

  "Not a word," Draken answered flatly. "Anyone refers even obliquely to this and he can kiss not just this job but his career goodbye. Everyone in this room knows that."

  "Draken may be eccentric, but he's got a code," someone piped up.

  "We're cool, Ms. Fontina."

  "Mum's the word."

  Well.

  Damn.

  The trouble was—the really horrible thing was -

  She wanted to do it.

  Charli gnawed at her lip. And then it was like she was someone else. She felt her skirt slide up her legs but wasn't aware of lifting it. She sensed the eyes watching, but she pretended it wasn't her they were watching. It was another girl. Another girl who reached into the waistband of her panties, keeping the skirt covering her hand while she dabbed between her pussy lips in front of eleven staring men in business suits.

  Reality crashed into her. This was her, Charli, not somebody else. For as her finger brushed her clit, it was so slick and sensitive she could not control her moan.

  Hurriedly she whipped her hand out. For a moment she stared at her hand. Then she squeezed her eyes shut painfully and held up a finger.

  "Holy fuck," someone whispered.

  "We're over here, Charli," Draken said roughly. Like an automaton, she walked around and displayed her finger, glistening with her fluids. One by one, the guys checked it out, and she absolutely could not meet their eyes.

  "That's a fucking wet pussy, Charli," Draken said when she came to him. "Reach in there again and get some more of that."

  She didn't argue this time. She just lifted her skirt and stuck her finger through the crotch of her panties.

  As she made contact, she simply couldn't help but rub back and forth across her clit. Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God. She needed this. What a disaster. She couldn't stop. They were all watching, and Draken was right there inches from her, and she couldn't—

  Stop. Stop. Are you insane? You're going to lather up to an orgasm right here, right now?

  She yanked her hand free with a tiny whimper. And raised it up, showing Draken, practically snarling at him.

  And he, the fucker, grinned.

  "I've seen it," he said. "Show the rest, Charli. Guys, I think we've finally managed to relax our PR rep. She's definitely not as nervous now. In fact, I'd even say she's feisty."

  "Fucking adorable," someone else agreed.

  "Can't fake that," another guy laughed.

  By the time Draken allowed her to return to the front of the room, she could barely see through her fury. The worst part was, the more Draken tried to shame her, the more her arousal heightened. Would this awful meeting never end?

  "Go ahead and suck your finger clean now, Charli," Draken said. "Then you can finish the program for us with a recap and a Q&A."

  Without a word, Charli put her finger in her mouth and sucked it. Then she took off her glasses and wiped the steamy fog from them and replaced them on her nose.

  Then she gave the requested information. By the time Draken indicated she should wrap it up, the room was quiet again.

  "Thanks for entertaining us, Charli. You did great. You turned yourself on and I know you turned us on. Didn't she do great?"

  The men grinned and clapped, hooted and hollered. God. It was like she really was a stripper.

  Draken straightened in his chair. "Er...Ms. Fontina? You might want to get dressed at this point, unless you particular
ly enjoy flashing us...?"

  Her mouth gaped open at his disingenuous tone. He winked at her. Damn him to hell and back. She caught the bra he tossed at her. Then she turned her back and scrambled to put it on.

  "Hey, don't turn away," Draken protested. "This is the best part."

  Chapter 4

  Her movements jerky with outrage, Charli managed to face the men as she stuffed herself into her unattractive bra. She found putting on her clothes even harder than removing them. Her glasses kept falling off her nose, for some reason, and she kept pushing them back. The men watched attentively, seeming to relish this part of the show. Or maybe it was her frustrated red face they were relishing.

  Every man here knows you would have done anything to be fucked a few minutes ago. Anything.

  As if her clothes going back on were a signal, the men around the table began to straighten and adopt their usual professional demeanor. By the time her jacket was on, they were chatting to each other about their plans for the Labor Day holiday.

  As if what had just happened weren't a big deal. As if most of them weren't sitting there with hard dicks. Normality had returned.

  So surreal.

  "All right, let's wrap this up," Draken interrupted them. "Anybody have any final questions for the lovely Ms. Fontina?"

  Tattoo guy's hand raised. "Yeah. What made you decide to become a stripper, Charli? You're hella good at it."

  Charli bit her lip. She wanted to save face. Yet any of these guys could look her up easily. "I didn't. I'm not a stripper."

  Her confession caused a stir.

  "I do actually represent—my company. H-he hired me. Your boss. To—to liven up the meeting. Because it was boring."

  The room erupted into laughter.

  She flushed.

  "Well, you're killer at it," someone said. "Better than you are at presenting."

  "Maybe you should consider a career change," someone else said helpfully. "With tits like those."

  "And that wet pussy."

  There was a spontaneous, inoffensive discussion about the pros versus cons of a stripper having a wet pussy.

  They were looking at her kindly.

  Her face flamed. There was nothing to say.

  Unfortunately, there was still one more part of this scene left. Charli walked around and shook each man's hand. They looked a little startled, but amused. She gave Draken a wide berth, saving him for last.

  When she approached him, her chin was up, her jaw tight, and her eyes shooting daggers.

  "Well," he murmured, shaking her hand crisply. "That was supposed to get you out of my system. Too bad it didn't work. You know, I'm stunned. I didn't think you'd actually do it—not all of it, not go the whole hog. Brava, Ms. Fontina. What did you think?"

  "It was vile," Charli lied. I loved it beyond anything. I'm grieved it's over. I want an orgasm yesterday. And I kind of like you, even if you are an asshole. "Hand it over, Mr. Almatto. Twenty thousand."

  The indrawn breaths around her made it clear what the guys thought of the sum Draken had offered her to spice up their last meeting before a long weekend.

  Draken Almatto slipped a check into her hand. She looked at it. Thirty thousand.

  "Ten thou bonus for the extras," he said, stroking her palm with his thumb. "That wet pussy was a surprise. A very, very nice one."

  She flinched. "Don't touch me," she said sharply. "We're done!"

  Then immediately regretted it.

  Then regretted regretting it.

  But rather than comply, he closed his large hand over hers and jerked her onto his lap. "Thanks for playing, guys. Have a good weekend," Draken growled.

  In seconds the room had cleared.

  Charli's blood was roaring and her heart galloping to find that Draken was not letting her go. She straddled him, her skirt riding up her thighs. This close up, his features were a little blurry through the lenses of her glasses, yet even more devastating, especially his penetrating eyes. He smelled unbelievable.

  "You, Ms. Fontina, are beyond what I expected. You'd have let every one of those dudes fuck you just for the thrill of it, wouldn't you?"

  "No. No, of course not! You were cruel," she muttered. "You deliberately tried to humiliate me."

  "Cruel? If you hadn't gotten off on it, I wouldn't have gone so far," he taunted. "Admit it. Even now you're squirming. You need cock, don't you, Charli? You don't even care whose it is."

  She raised her chin, refusing to admit it aloud.

  And actually, it wasn't quite true. It was his cock she wanted. It was just that she was currently so desperate, she'd probably fuck a unicorn's horn at this point.

  He smacked her upper buttock. "Tell you what, I've got some time, baby. I can take care of that for you. Climb up on this table."

  Her heart lurched. "But you said you weren't going to—"

  "Oh, but that was before, relationship girl. Seems that in the end, you're not as hung up on meaningful interactions as you thought. I'd say you need a new status update, wouldn't you, Ms. No Sex for Me Fontina?"

  "M-maybe."

  His smile widened. "And news flash—after you did what you did here today, Charli, there's no way I'm not going to have you. And it will be on my terms, little girl."

  "Really?"

  "Really." He smirked. "Now do as you're told. Our meeting's not quite over yet."

  She scrambled off his lap and debated with herself for all of a moment before the need inside her made the decision for her.

  His terms. Sex without a relationship. You don't have to do it.

  She ignored her sensible voice and hoisted herself up onto the table.

  "You did that easily. Do you work out?" he said conversationally.

  "Volleyball in college and softball pitcher in high school." She straightened to her feet and teetered precariously on her heels.

  "That fits," he said. "I'd like to have seen you spiking the ball."

  "I'm short, but I can jump," she said defensively.

  "Which is precisely the part I'd have enjoyed watching. Especially if you did it without a bra." Draken grinned and tipped back his chair, his hands going behind his head in the same pose that had first disconcerted her. Without his jacket on, the action stretched his shirt over his chest. It was impossible to stop staring at the muscles outlined there. Holy pectorals, Batman.

  "That's great, Charli," he said pleasantly. "Now take off that ugly skirt."

  "Draken—"

  "Calling me Draken now?" he interrupted, quirking a brow. "It's Mr. Almatto to my business acquaintances."

  "Your staff calls you Draken," she pointed out.

  "Business acquaintances I fuck call me Mr. Almatto. Starting now."

  "If I do this, Mr. Almatto, I want to make it clear it's only a one-off," she announced.

  That stopped him for a moment. "What did you just say?"

  "It's what you said. You don't want a girlfriend, and I don't want you as a boyfriend. So we can...we can do this. This meaningless sex thing. But it's just this one time."

  "Right." A tic began in his cheek. "Absolutely, we're on the same page. One screw and we're done. Now strip. Leave only your shoes on. And Charli?"

  She gulped, recognizing she'd royally pissed him off. "Yes?"

  "When you're naked, come to the edge of the table and hold your pussy open for me. I mean wide open. I've been curious about that pussy since you showed me your dripping finger, and I intend to examine it thoroughly."

  Oh, God. Stripping off her clothes like this was a sexy ordeal she couldn't have tolerated if not for the lascivious way he was looking at her, casually rocking back in his office chair.

  In the sterile conference room, Charli found her own nakedness intolerably risqué as she inched forward to the edge of the table. His eyes licked over her breasts and down to her hips and legs, then back up again, leaving her shivering as if they really had licked her.

  Tentatively, she brought her fingers in front of her and shyly parted her labia.<
br />
  "Wider, Ms. Fontina. Present that clit. Let's see it."

  Squeezing her eyes shut for courage, she parted her flesh crudely. Just the awareness of what she was doing—her, Charli Fontina, the girl her senior class had voted Least Likely to Embarrass Herself With Boys—made her abdomen clench.

  When her eyes finally opened again, he was tilting his head and stroking his chin.

  "That's what I like to see—an enthusiastic pussy," he teased. "Did you know you're literally dripping down your thigh, baby?"

  She bit her lip and shook her head.

  "And your clit...shit, Charli, your clit." He shook his head.

  "What?" she asked, cringing.

  "Let's just say if I knew you were that turned on, I'd have had you strip off your panties and finger yourself while you gave your pitch and we all watched," he said huskily. "Fucking pretty, with your clit throbbing like that and peeking out of its hood. What was that, baby?"

  Because she'd gasped, only without her vocal chords functioning. Her mouth moving like a fish, she managed, "N-nothing." While silently, she thought, Take me. Take me now. Fucking stop teasing me and take me.

  She forced herself to stand there patiently waiting while Draken tapped his foot on the floor and contemplated things.

  Maybe he wasn't sure he really wanted to fuck her. At the notion, she grew even more frantic.

  Hell. He couldn't change his mind.

  "Pretty," he said again, at last. And reached inside his pocket and took out his phone.

  And Charli watched disbelievingly as he made several calls, each one longer than the last. He never looked away from her pussy during his conversations.

  This was awful. Awful. She must have been standing here like this, displaying herself lewdly, for twenty minutes. She shifted, aware of her arousal climbing to a fever pitch. Pretty soon she was thrusting her hips forward in tiny little twitches she couldn't control and dancing her feet on the tabletop, like a restless filly.

  From his small smile as he peered up at her, he noticed everything. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what he must be seeing.

  Her neatly trimmed mound with its brown sprinkling of curls.

  Her pink inner lips swollen and glistening.