Alphas of Red Moon Ranch Complete Series Read online

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she choked on her laughter. She clutched her stomach as though she could feel the life blooming, glowing, a small seed that would change her forever. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

  Chapter 48

  She knew the exact day that it had happened, too. The moment of conception. She remembered it because they’d gone through a minor dry spell after everything that happened with Brent. Jacob had informed the rest of the clan over dinner that Brent was leaving over the next two weeks and even Holly could feel the heaviness of the silence that followed. Outcast. It was a harsh punishment, even harsher to impose on one’s own brother. But Holly had stood beside Jacob, silently defending him, even when she could feel the flurry of unease and discontent in the rest of the family.

  Holly knew his decision was heavy on his shoulders and heavy on his heart and she couldn’t blame Jacob for coming home exhausted and passing out in bed when his head had barely hit the pillow. But just because her head understood his need for space, it didn’t stall her body, and she was starting to feel pent up, burning for Jacob at the most inconvenient of times. Like late at night, when his body was warm and strong behind hers, his arm wrapped tight around her. Or when he sung under his breath in that low, gravelly voice in the truck (she was pretty sure he didn’t even know he was doing it). Or when he smiled—just smiled—and suddenly her whole body was thrumming with the need to feel those lips all over her skin.

  It got so bad that, one day, Holly lost herself in the middle of the classroom. She was sitting at the front of the rectangular setup of tables when it happened, reading out loud a passage from Robert Louis Stevenson’s novella, Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Dr. Jekyll was battling with his inner demons, lamenting about this monster—this Beast—inside of him. Only Holly was thinking about Jacob and the more she talked about this feral, ravenous split between Dr. Jekyll’s two sides, the more she thought about Jacob. How he kissed her as though he meant to swallow her whole, how his hands gripped her with delicate forcefulness, how his eyes seemed to burn with lustful fire when they caught on hers…

  Before she knew it, her breath was coming shorter after every sentence and her thighs slipped when she squeezed them together. Holly caught herself (control, she chastised) and tried to push back the blossoming blush that threatened to damage her composure. She chanced a glance upwards, flickering her eyes over the top of her book, only to find that her students were barely paying attention as it was—most doodling in the corners of their notebooks or texting under the table—and no one had noticed her slip-up.

  Well. Almost no one. A pair of sharp blue eyes fastened on her and a teeth-baring smile curved over Cayden’s mouth.

  Right. The cougar in the class. With a sudden flash of horror she realized that he—oh god—could probably…smell the sexual energy radiating off of her. Just like Jacob could. Her blush was unstoppable now and Holly self-consciously yanked her pleated skirt further down her knees, quietly furious with herself. “That’s enough of that,” she said firmly and averted her eyes from Cayden. “Now if you will open your notebooks…”

  In the rustle that ensued, student flipping pages and powering on laptops, Holly actively ignored Cayden’s Cheshire Cat smirk.

  Chapter 49

  Holly made it home in record time. Jacob wasn’t there yet and, while his absence was normally disappointing, this time it provided an opportunity. She jumped into the shower, washed the school day off of her (and her sweaty humiliation), and changed into a long, flowing dress, one that pushed her breasts up, presenting them like a meal on a silver platter. Then she fixed dinner—one of his favorite recipes she’d borrowed from Mama Mae—grilled salmon, roasted asparagus, and potatoes. While that cooked, she dimmed the lights and set the mood, igniting the fire with a whoosh.

  She pulled her long red hair back into a bun to keep it out of her face. Now she had nothing to do but wait. So wait she did, by the front door. She folded her legs underneath her and bowed her head. And waited. She’d been studying up, reading more about submission. Decided her Alpha needed a submissive wife every now and then. She’d read that this was where she was supposed to zone out—“sub space” or whatever they called it—but Holly had never been very good at meditation. So she grabbed her book and flipped it open on her knees.

  She got a couple chapters in before she heard his truck splutter and stop outside their house. Quickly, like a little girl with her hand caught in the cookie jar, Holly pushed the book away. It slid across the hardwood and landed with a thunk against the door. She imagined Jacob coming in and catching her with it or—worse—walking one foot through the door and tripping on the slippery dust jacket. Would he punish her for that? Would he bend her over the couch again and spank her as he had before? The thought made her nipples tighten and stand out like small pebbles under her dress.

  She heard his heavy footfalls thump carelessly against the wooden planks of the porch before he slung the door open. Holly expected it, but she still jumped with the force of his swing and forced her gaze down, on the floor. Submissive. Her eyes latched onto her book, which was now stuffed between the door and the wall. A thrill of fear running through her, she buttoned her lips and kept her composure. She’d put a lot of effort into this and she wanted it to be perfect for him. “Welcome home, Boss,” she murmured.

  She couldn’t see his face, but his feet came to a stop. Then he crouched down until he was eye level with her. She could see the salt-and-pepper scruff of his beard, she could smell him (metal rust, engine smoke, pinewood, moonless night sky), but she kept her eyes averted from his. She could feel him watching her, though, and that intense dark-eyed stare burned straight through her.

  “What’s this?” he asked. His fingers cupped her chin and tilted it up until her eyes finally met his. When his gaze connected with hers, it felt like an electric shot straight through her bones, making her heart run an extra mile.

  “You’re my king,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice even, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “But what’s my queen doing on her knees?”

  That made a tremble run through the center of her body and settle between her legs. Sensual wasn’t exactly her forte, but she wanted to take this seriously. Be professional. “Worshipping you,” she said.

  His expression shifted at that—pleased, eyes darkened with carnal lust. He inhaled sharply, though, as if to quell his enjoyment. “You know you don’t have to do that,” he said.

  No, no, that’s not what she wanted. How insane she felt then—she’d spent so much time pushing the Beast out of the bedroom, and now she was practically pulling teeth to get his animal to come out and play. Now she craved it; she ached for the Beast inside of him to be inside of her. She wanted—no, needed—him to fuck her, hard, until her fingernails dug into his arm to hold on for dear life. Instead of throwing herself at him like every tingling inch of her wanted to, Holly disciplined herself. She settled back, placid, and held his gaze innocently. “I want to,” she said, her voice light.

  Jacob barely changed, but she swore she could see that amber hue flicker through his irises. Then, deliberately, he peeled back and stood up. Jacob walked around her, his boots clanking against the floor. Holly didn’t move—he hadn’t given her permission, after all. And he knew that. The realization: he was making her wait. He was claiming his territory. She could hear his boots come off, one after the other. Next, the rustle of his jacket, and then the slither of his belt. Her heart was pounding now, she was hot, too hot, and she could feel sweat drip between her swollen breasts. Holly shifted, just slightly, and her leg tingled, numb underneath her.

  She could hear his bare feet pad along the floor. Away from her. She heard him make himself comfortable. She heard him walk into the kitchen, she heard the refrigerator door open, she heard him crack open a beer. A flush rushed up her neck. What was he waiting for? Was he waiting for her to crack?

  Well. Two could play that game. She inhaled a de
ep breath through her nose, exhaled. She’d stay here all night if she had to. She knew he could smell how turned on she was, but that didn’t bother her. She also knew the effect that had on him, how it drove him wild.

  “Jacob?” she said finally, breaking the silence.

  She could almost feel his smug satisfaction, assuming this was the moment she would break down and beg. “Yes?”

  “Can you please...turn off the stove? I don’t want to burn dinner.”

  “Sure.” The bubbling mellowed into a low sizzle. “Smells good,” he said after a moment. “Why don’t you come here and serve it?”

  That was her cue. “Yes, sir.” She stood and the feeling came rushing back to her legs. Pins and needles tingled down her calves—that she hadn’t accounted for—and the graceful, sensual composure she strived for was ruined by her loose-limbed wobble through the kitchen.

  Holly stumbled straight into Jacob with a small yelp, and he caught her easily, hooking his arm around her middle. “You okay?” he asked and his eyebrows lifted, an amused smiled playing on his lips. His tone sounded concerned, but she heard: are you sure you’re up for this?

  Holly gave his arm a light squeeze and straightened up, peeling off his (admittedly warm, solid, irresistible) chest. “I’m fine,” she said stubbornly and began plating the food.

  “This looks too good to end up on the floor,” Jacob said and took the two plates once she’d filled them. “I’ll grab these. You just get your pretty self to the table.”

  “Okay,” she said and followed in his wake, but not before taking his beer with her (she’d wanted to get it for him, after all, and was disappointed he’d beat her to the punch on that one). He set the two plates down on the table (Jacob at the head, Holly at his side) and she set his beer down beside him.

  Just as Holly sat down, Jacob said, “What’re you doing?” The tone of his voice—like she should know better—made the hair on her arms stand up and Holly stilled. She looked over at him, owl-eyed and at a standstill.

  There was that cocky grin. He was enjoying this too much, wasn’t he? He tapped his thigh and said, “C’mere.”

  Holly did, obediently, and eased herself into his lap. Jacob reached around her and cut up a bit of salmon before saying, “Open your mouth.”

  When she did, he fed her the bite, and then cut up a piece for himself. He took turns, feeding Holly, and then himself, a couple more times before Holly said, “This is for you, you know.”

  “And you’re supposed to do what I want, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, maybe I want to spoil my queen a little.”

  That sparked a new warmth in her, this one radiating from her heart, making it swell too large in his chest. How could one burly, rough-and-tumble man be so positively soft around the edges for her? She wanted to curl up in the heat of his body and stay there forever, safe. Loved. In their own private world.

  He cut up another bite and reminded her, “Open.”

  She did, this time leaning forward and pushing her hips back into his lap. She wiggled just enough to be rewarded by a light sigh in her ear. His cock was slowly but surely waking up underneath her and she made sure to sit back in just the right way to rub the curve of her ass against his long length.

  His fork clinked against the plate. He made sure to clean off his dish and then hers before he finally set his utensils down. “How was your day?” he asked between bites.

  “Good,” she said. She was trying to let him initiate and lead the conversation, but had to add, “I missed you.”

  “How badly?”

  “Terribly.” Another bite.

  “I missed you too.”

  Her head tucked in the shelf of his clavicle, she felt safe here. In the “real world,” outside their doors, Jacob could be intimidating. Big, strong, stern Alpha. But here, curled up in his lap, Holly felt nothing but openness from him. No judgment, no expectations, just pure, unconditional love. Which was the only reason why she felt open enough to murmur against his chest, where his plaid shirt opened to bare skin, “I’ve been looking deeper into that medallion…you know, the one Robin Hoyte was wearing?”

  Holly had found out about Robin Hoyte, the hunter who’d claimed to eradicate all the bears in Etna, in the archives of the school library. Even though Jacob had finally admitted that he needed her help—and her researching skills—to find a cure for his moonlust, he still clammed up every time Holly brought it up.

  “Uh huh,” he said, predictably. He wasn’t even monosyllabic—he’d gone full caveman, speaking in grunts and sounds.

  She took another bite of salmon off his fork and then toyed with the white and black specks of scruff on his chin. “I think it’s some kind of…Wiccan thing or something. The six-pointed star can mean anything—there’s the obvious Judeo-Christian symbolism, but it goes further than that. Mark of the Beast, even new age religions latch onto it, but the gem in the center…stone, or glass, or—oh.”

  Holly’s words came up short when she felt Jacob’s strong hand ride up her thigh and under her dress. He began stroking his fingertips over her panties, petting the damp, silky fabric. “Tell me all about it,” he encouraged, his voice dark and syrupy.

  “It’s…uh…” Her voice came out in small, breathy gasps as his fingers tickled between her legs, playing her like ivory piano keys. “I tried looking for more about Hoyte, but it’s like he…he appeared out of nowhere and then—”

  Holly gasped sharply. Jacob’s fingers dipped underneath her panties and pressed into the warm velvet of her pussy. She felt him inside her suddenly, one finger, then the other, crooking and pressing against that spongy place inside of her. Pleasure rocketed through her and her legs snapped closed around his wrist, desperate to keep him there—right there—and she moaned loudly.

  Jacob’s other hand took her knees and coaxed them back apart. He splayed her thighs and secured them there, free hand on her leg, his ankle hooked around hers.

  “And then?” Jacob said, goading her on. He had a strange way of making her feel utterly helpless and wildly powerful at the same time; trapped this tightly against him, she could feel his bulge grow more demanding against her ass. She longed to free it, feel it inside of her, but she was at his mercy now, drenched in waves of pleasure.

  “And then…um…” Her thoughts scattered as he curved his fingers inside of her, pumping them in a strong, languid pace. But even a slow torture like this was enough to make her crazy. Holly was so pent up, burning up with lust, that she felt like she would reach her orgasm from even the smallest touch from him. She tried to squirm away from his practiced fingers, maybe get a second to breathe, but his touch followed, merciless and coaxing her to the edge of her sanity. “And then…I forgot what I was saying,” Holly said, breathless.

  “You forgot?” She could hear the amusement in his tone, and then she felt his lips brush against the side of her neck. He drew his teeth over her scar there, which ached suddenly, and when he bit in, just a little, the mix of pleasure and pain made her cheeks blush hotly and her pussy gave a small, preorgasmic pulse around his busy fingers. “Not very teacher-like of you, huh?”

  “I’ve got a very distracting pupil,” she murmured, and she hooked an arm behind her and caught a handful of his long, thick hair, gripping it tightly and keeping him to her.

  “That what I am?” She felt his grin against her neck. “Teacher’s pet?” With his index and middle finger still inside of her, Holly felt his thumb begin drawing circles underneath her sensitive clit. It felt swollen and his thumb (slick with her desperation) flicked it again and again, shooting sparks of pleasure through her blood.

  “No,” she whined. “You’re my king…my Alpha…”

  “And you’ll do whatever I say?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said fervently. Anything to get just a little more so she could break over the edge and crest around his fingers. She was throbbing, soaking, right there—

  “Don’t cum,” he ordered.
r />   “Oh God,” she whimpered. Anything but that. “Please…”

  “Not until I’m inside of you,” he told her. Which was the worst thing he could say because just that, the thought of his dick deep inside of her, made her tighten around his fingers, body trembling with need.

  He didn’t stop there. Instead, he kept her teetering on the edge, fingers coiling inside of her, thumb bumping her protruding nub, for what felt like forever but was probably closer to five, ten minutes. Only when she was truly a writhing, pleading mess did he finally pull his fingers out of her. Holly whimpered, relieved that she could finally catch her breath, her pleasure borderline agonizing at this point, but at the same time, she ached for him to be back inside of her. Her body buzzed with unspent need, her nipples tight and aching; even her mouth felt dry from hanging open with each gasped breath.

  “Get up,” he whispered in her ear.

  Holly got up, as ordered, but just barely. Her legs were trembling, weak, and she had to perch herself on the edge of the table just to keep upright. There, she took a small sip of cold water from the glass on the table. As she set it back down, her eyes fell on a large, dark spot on his jeans, right on the thigh where she’d been sitting. When she realized that she’d done that, dripped all the way down through his pants, Holly felt a blush rise up her neck and flame out into her cheeks.

  A mistake. He saw her blush—she knew he did, because he got that look in his eyes, that dark, carnal look. Jacob’s eyes didn’t leave hers—not once—as he unbuttoned his pants, raised his hips and pushed his jeans and boxers down off his feet. His shirt went as well—dropping to the floor behind him—and Holly’s breath caught. Every. Single. Time. His naked body never ceased to amaze her. That broad chest, thick with curly hair that tapered down his body like a flock of geese in perfect v-formation. That muscled, defined stomach. And—finally—his impressive cock, standing (rightfully) proud. Beet-red with the blood that pumped through it, tip already glistening.