Teach Me How to Please, Alpha

(16) ONLY THE VERY BAD STUFF

Ryder

“Ryder, you feel sooo good, so big,” C panted as I thrust into her p***y from behind. “f**k, I’ve missed this.”

Her hands dug into the covers and her shaky knees buckled, giving out.

I was forced to support her body weight, my grip on her hips tightening. She was spent, I could tell.

She has come thrice already and her body was practically begging for respite yet I couldn’t find my release.

Three times I’ve been at the brink of orgasm, but had paused when I’d seen Isla’s doe green eyes, her sinful words echoing in my ears:

“Teach me what you like in bed too, Ryder.”

“Only the very bad stuff.”

“I could even call you, Alpha.”

I couldn’t bring myself to come while thinking of Isla. It felt like crossing an irrevocable line that I’d never recover from.

So I forced myself back to this bed, with this woman and her bleached blonde hair, sacrificing release.

Again and again and again.

But when C cries out again, I could tell that even though she loved being on the receiving end of my c**k—had all but mauled me the moment she saw me at her doorstep—she must now more than anything want me to find my release and end this.

Just once, I reasoned to myself.

No one would have to know.

So I closed my eyes and thought of Isla.

Isla riding me, bite marks on her bouncing t**s, her face a cross between pleasure and shame. She hated how much of a glutton she had become for my c**k. She begs me not to let anyone know, saying she’d do anything if I hid how easily she creamed my c**k.

Isla on my bed, sleeping peacefully until I covered her mouth, climbed on top of her, moved her panties to the side and slide my d**k inside of her. She parts her legs wider and wider while she begs me to stop.

Isla on her knees, her lips wrapped around me, her eyes desperately on mine seeking my approval, hoping I like the way she gagged around my c**k. And what a beautiful sight she’d make, the pretty choked sounds that’d escape her, her little moans…

When I pulled out my d**k, I push down her thin camisole and come all over her huge perky t**s. She loves it, she wants it. She is my greedy c*m slut.

And I’m exploding inside the condom, while inside another woman.

“Holy s**t, Ryder,” C said breathlessly, when I finally pulled out of her. “You were amazing.”

I wished I could say same.

I silently rolled out of the bed, checked the bedside for her husband’s or mate’s expensive cigar stash—I still couldn’t figure out what C she was— and immediately lit a cigar facing away from her, while I felt like s**t.

I didn’t even stay behind for dinner regardless of how suggestive she had been about us going another round after.

The moment I had my clothes on, I grabbed my car keys and hightailed it back to the townhouse where I live with my future step sister.

It seems like I could not escape Isla regardless of how much distance I physically put between us or who was in my bed, so staying away was futile.

To aptly put it, I was f****d.

***

“Wake up, Ryder,” I felt a soft hand caressing my face. The heady scent of cinnamon and apple was all it took for me to know who was touching me.

“Isla,” I sighed and even though I was scared that she was a figment of my restless imagination, I slowly opened my eyes.

But she was real and in front of me. She was bent over the bed, tugging her lower lips in worry while she watched me.

I didn’t need to look around to know that I must have woken her up by destroying something again.

I moved backwards causing her hand on my face to fall. She frowned. “Please, don’t avoid me. I heard you loud and clear when you rejected my advances. I’d never mention it again.” She said, although her tone wasn’t convincing.

But that wasn’t the reason I found looking at her uncomfortable.

I wondered if what I’d done earlier today was written all over my face, how I’d seen her, used her…

How f*****g disgusted I was with myself.

I was not quite ready to face her yet. “Why are you here? I thought you’d hold out until I accepted your offer.”

“I almost didn’t come.” She whispered. “You told me you wouldn’t be back tonight. You hurt me.”

“Then why are you here?”

Her eyes pinned mine. “Because if the case were reversed, you wouldn’t let me be alone too. You’d be an asshole but you’d keep me company all the same. Scoot over, Ryder. Nightmares are less frightening when there’s someone holding you.”

“But this isn’t a nightmare,” I whispered.

It was my wolf trying to unleash itself even while I was unconscious. It was torture. It was a curse.

“I know,” her eyes roved over my face. “But it feels better not giving it a name that suggest permanence.”

I silently moved. She lifted the covers and laid beside me.

There were several seconds of shuffling and turning as we both adjusted so that she was in my arms, her head against my chest while my hand was draped lazily around her back.

We were both quiet for minutes even though her heartbeat suggested she was still awake. It was fast and pounding.

“I can’t sleep,” I finally admitted. How could I? When her soft body was pressed against mine and my nose was filled with her scent.

“I can tell you a story…” she trailed off unsure.

I frowned. “Like a lullaby?”

“That’s a cradle song. I meant more like a bedtime story.” She corrected.

“I wouldn’t know the difference. My mom died giving birth to me so I was never lulled to sleep.”

She stiffened. My friends always gave me s**t for how flippantly I made remarks about the loss of a mother I never knew.

Apart from the fact that she was yet another thing my father might secretly blame me for, I didn’t see why I had to handle the situation with gloves.

She moved so her upper body was raised and she was looking up at me. “You know I don’t buy it.”

“Buy what?”

“Your indifference and your arrogance and how depraved the rumors make you to be.” Her voice was small. “I see you too, Ryder.”

She didn’t end up telling me a bedtime story.

And even though the moon goddess had never answered any of my supplications, I fell asleep moments after praying that at least with her… I could be the man she thought she saw.

Not the beast.

Not the disposable playboy.

Not the toxic, hateful rattlesnake I became, lashing out at everyone around me when I could no longer contain my own venom.