Page 3 of An Alpha’s Guide to Finding the One

“Hello? Earth to jockstrap!” She snaps her fingers, drawing my attention to her fingernails. One of the lights flashes on them just right, letting me see their vibrant neon hue. Each nail is long, sharp, and painted a different color with a halo of darker color around the edges. I’ve never cared to notice a girls nails before, but these are hot as fuck.

Remembering she said something, my eyes snap to her face. If I thought she looked angry before, it has nothing on the death stare I’m getting now after checking her out. “Sorry, kitten.” I smirk. “Guess my reaction to meeting an angel is forgetting every word I’ve ever learned.”

Her eyes roll so far back her body actually tilts with them. “All ten of them?” She snarks. I bark out a laugh, appreciating the bite in her tone.

No one has ever spoken to me like this, and it’s turning me on in a way that a therapist would have a field day with. If little miss huckleberry isn’t careful, I’m going to come in my jeans and end this night before it even begins. “I’d use at least eight of them to tell you how pretty you are,” I flirt shamelessly.

She rolls her pretty eyes again, cocking that hip out again with the sassiest look I’ve ever seen aimed my way as she scans the jersey covering my chest. It’s one of my old ones that I cropped to wear out, and I know it shows off the v of my hips in a way that drives women wild. When her eyes skim over the tattoos there, her gaze darkens, desire-tinged scent blossoming around us. My dick is hard enough to cut glass from that look alone, but throw in her scent? I might be in real trouble. “Careful, ball boy. I could walk you like a fucking dog and you’d thank me after.”

Did I say I was hard before? That was nothing compared to now.

I fist my hand in the front of the scrap of fabric she’s wearing as a dress and haul her up so she’s flush with my front and I can grind my erection into her soft lower belly. It takes considerable effort to stay focused when all I want to do is moan at the sensation. “Is handing you my leash enough, or do I need to get on my knees and bark for you, too?” I’m practically panting, heart thundering so loud behind my rib cage I wonder if she can hear it over the music.

Her eyes widen slightly with shock before a dirty smirk tilts her lips, heat replacing the surprise in her expression. I know what she’s going to say before she even parts those sultry lips, and hell if my cock doesn’t leak at the thought. “Bark for me, Alpha.”

Now normally if one of my friends was going home with a man they just met, a football player no less, I’d stage an intervention and have a three-page speech ready to tell them how dumb they were. So tell me why I’m following this idiot out of the club without even asking his name? Blame it on the way his sweet peppermint scent scrambles my senses, or those sexy as hell matching lightning strikes tattooed on either side of his hips. They’re perfectly aligned with the ‘v’ of his muscles and draw the eyes downward to where I’m pretty sure I felt an impressive erection straining against his jeans.

And out here under the moonlight, the man is even more gorgeous than he looked in the club. He’s got at least a head on me in height and though he’s lean, every inch of visible skin is tight with corded muscle and covered in a patchwork of tattoos that are impossible to make out at a glance. Curly brown hair and piercings in his ears and nose top off the hot alt jock look that would likely turn me into a simpering mess if I weren’t so jaded.

Nothing about him has shocked me, since he gives off playboy vibes all over the place. What was surprising? The way he reacted to my bitchiness. It’s my first line of defense against a man, but this man didn’t just ignore it or walk away like so many others before him, he liked it. Played into it like he was the instrument and I, the musician.

It rattled me.

I’m so used to men backing off or throwing the word “bitch” at me like it’s some kind of live grenade, that I have no idea what to make of this walking contradiction. Is he always like this? How far can I push before he decides one night isn’t worth dealing with my attitude problem?

Because regardless of the way my pulse flutters when he looks at me, that’s all this can be. One night of letting myself get wrapped up in hard muscles and a scent that makes slick drip down my thighs. One night of fun before it’s back to reality and the painful truth of everything collapsing around me faster than I can stop it.

Large, warm hands cup my face, dragging me out of what was sure to be an impressive spiral. It’s still too dark to tell for sure, but the light shining above us shows glittering hazel eyes peering down at me, concern echoing in their depths. In the few moments I was zoned out, ball boy has led us to the football house. I’m pretty sure they have some gross name for it, but I don’t particularly care to ask. “You alright, kitten?” He asks softly.

I step back out of his embrace, adopting my usual persona. “I didn’t follow you all the way back here for a therapy session, ball boy. Are we doing this or what?” My tone comes out a little shakier than I’d like, and he notices.

Lucky for me, he lets it slide and opens the door before holding his arm out with a flourish. “Up the stairs and last door on your left, m’lady.”

That draws a snort out of me that I barely manage to stifle. The last thing this guys ego needs is me laughing at his antics.

God forbid I let a man think he’s funny.

I don’t stop to take in any details of the house since I don’t plan to stay longer than absolutely necessary, instead making a beeline up the stairs and to the last room on the left. I’m not sure what I expected to find from a cocky jock, but an immaculately clean room with two perfectly made matching beds was not it. Quirking a brow behind me, ball boy chuckles. “My roommate has a thing for organization. You should see his locker.”

“Thanks, but I’ll take a hard pass on that little adventure.”

He laughs again, louder this time, before stripping off his shirt and dropping to his knees in front of me.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “What the hell are you doing?”

He feigns confusion, and if it weren’t for the amused twinkle in his eyes I might buy it. “You told me to get on my knees and bark for you.” He bites down hard on his bottom lip to stifle a grin before letting it free and winking at me. “Woof.”

A genuine laugh escapes before I can stop it, but I wasn’t expecting him to actually follow through. I decide then to see just how far he’s willing to let me push. An alpha letting an omega take control in the bedroom is practically unheard of, but I want to try, anyway.

He’s close enough to me that it only takes one step for me to be standing between his spread legs, and without giving myself time to think it through, I spear one hand through his beautiful curls and tug sharply until his eyes meet mine. The whimper he lets out is better than poetry, and with the way his eyes darken with lust? It really is too bad this can only be one night, because I think this alpha would be so much fun to play with.

I plan to make the most of the time we do have.

“Look at you, following instructions,” I coo. His jaw goes slack, showcasing perfectly straight teeth. The tiny dress I’m wearing is a-line, so when I push the pencil-thin straps off my shoulders, it drops to the ground with no resistance, leaving me in a minuscule pair of neon orange panties and a pair of heart shaped pasties that say “Eat me” on them.

What can I say? I was manifesting.

I watch, amused, as his eyes widen and a startled giggle leaves his plush lips. He looks like he has no idea what to make of me, which is exactly how I like it. Those hazel eyes darken with need as his scent explodes around us. His hands move to the band of my panties, but he pauses, looking to me for permission. “I’m already on my knees, and I think I’d like to stay here a while,” he rasps, toying with my panties.