Rejecting Alpha Dreads

Chapter5

We were spent and had run out of energy in the bathroom.

It was like running a marathon and finally deciding to catch our breaths. The boys had gone from handling me like something malleable and tough, unbreakable, to something fragile. I was an egg whose shell mustn’t get cracked.

I didn’t know what I’d tell my husband Alpha Dreads. He definitely must be back at the pack-house. Not like he usually cared if I was around or not. Some days, I just sat in my room and did my remote work without setting eyes on him the whole day. But he definitely would have felt me getting screwed. He must’ve felt me getting penetrated. He also must’ve sent out a search party to find me. It had been three hours here in the hotel with the cousins.

We had our bath properly, a cold shower despite the chilly weather, because of course our bodies had gotten all its needed warmth from our hot workout. My body felt good. Exercise never felt better. Everywhere still smelt like s e x. I felt special as they took turns washing the deep crevices of me, from under the folds of my breasts to the curves of my back where my hands couldn’t readily reach. I was asked to path my legs for careful, considerate washing at some point.

The younger Benson thought I needed a little shaving. “The hair isn’t really much, truth be told” he observed. “It’s like a savannah compared to the potential forest it could become if we don’t do something about it.”

“Some men say they prefer forests,” I said while positioning myself on the bathtub’s rim for him to do his thing.. “They love the hair to be as bushy as possible.”

Benson fetched a shaving stick and knelt before me. He gestured for me to part my legs as he moved his face closer to my kitty. He was looking very serious you’d think he was a lab technologist looking to take samples or so. “Why would anyone prefer it bushy?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Something to do with our ancestral instincts, I believe. You know, our werewolves within. Animals and bushes have always been one and the same.”

“You both are full of s**t,” George said exasperatedly. We had almost forgotten he was still in the bathroom. He was always the one to behave like an elder brother. He walked out with his towel, leaving me to Benson who handled his area of concern with extreme surgical precision.

It was like fingering me, only this time there was no penetration. The touch and total attention turned me on. I was a tap whose faucet wouldn’t stop oozing fluids. I couldn’t help the warmness and wetness.

All the while, I knew I was in trouble. Dreads would murder me. Yet I figured that if today was going to be my last, it was better to depart in style. Nobody would blame me for signing out with an erotic shave.

We were done an hour later. I felt squeaky clean and totally hairless.

George stood on his feet, stepped back a little and bent to admire the work of his hands with great satisfaction. I spread my legs further apart so he could observe without any interruptions. “Good?” I asked.

“Very good,” he said.

Already his pipe-length blubber had risen halfway between his legs, but if we went at it again, it would be him being inconsiderate. Time was running out and I should be out of the hotel by now.

I stood and jumped at him, feeling the good sensation of flesh touching flesh as he caught me in his arms. Dreads’ inconsideration had made the tiniest skin contact more meaningful to me than ever before.

My lover Benson carried me to the main room and dropped me on my feet. He walked towards the room’s wardrobe while I noticed through the window that the rain outside had subsided. It was now drizzling.

I didn’t bother wearing anything, not even a towel. My flesh felt like clothes. I was at peace as I stood watching the city through the wet window glass. There was always that insanely sweet, dreamy aura about the weather after it rains. The streets were purer, the tars were darker and shinier, the roads had fewer traffic on them and the earth felt healed. I was reminded of my father’s farm over again. At my original pack, I was a farm girl. I loved farming like I loved my life. At just ten, I could midwife pregnant cows, pulling stuck baby calves out of their mothers' bodies. I would wipe the babies' noses on my skirt so they could breathe properly, handing them back to their mothers to clean and feed afterward, then I’d walk up the paddock to see if there were any more. I wasn't raised to be fed fat by an alpha in a foreign pack house. I wasn’t raised to be a coward watching his own mate fck around with other women on her own matrimonial bed.

I was nineteen when they decided to do me dirty. One regrettable Friday evening, on my way to the farm market, a limousine cruised along in the slow manner limousines do. I paid it little attention until it halted and its back window glass rolled down to reveal our pack alpha’s head. He waved at me and I waved back and that was that. His limo eased along. Or so I thought. My father woke me up the following day with "a big announcement”. The alpha and council of elders were in our living room.

"What alpha?" I asked from sleepy eyes.

"How many alphas do you know?" Dad asked.

“What do they want?” I asked, wiping the sleep off my eyes with my palm when I found out dad was serious.

“Well, I don’t know yet,” Dad whispered. “But they asked for both our presence. Your mum is there with them. Rise up and come join me. Don’t the alpha waiting.”

When I eventually stepped into the living room, it was a gathering where people awaited an important person’s arrival. Only in this case, it was me, an ordinary farm girl. Everyone’s eyes traced me until I sat with them.

“So,” the alpha began by rubbing his palms together. “We all know we’ve been at war with Crescent Moon Pack for close to a decade, but right now we’ve been making treaties, just anything to make sure another chaos doesn’t come up in the future. Part of our plans is to offer the prettiest girl in our pack to their new alpha. Seeing as I don’t have a daughter, and your dad is my Beta, we figured you’re the right choice.”

“No,” I said bluntly as if denouncing a doctor’s diagnosis of me having few months left to live. “I’m not the right choice.”

My mother must have gotten the news before now, because she was already weeping in a corner of the living room, turning her back on me so I wouldn’t see.

“Priscilla darling,” one of the elders said with the sort of calmness that only came with age. “You’re being a hero. It’s a sacrifice you are making to keep hundreds alive.”

“I don’t want to be that hero!” I really didn’t. I had plans for the farm that morning. Definitely, a calf somewhere might be dying from cold. I must reheat it in a bucket of warm water, squirt colostrum down its throat with a syringe and be happy watching it bounce back to life.

“Your name will be sung forever,” the gray-hair elder continued as if he hadn’t heard my protests. “Do this for our sake, little darling. You will be rich, second in command to an entire pack. You could be our vital eyes there. Feed us with information in case they are planning something sinister against your pack and family.” Oh, I was now a spy. Sometimes I wouldn’t blame Dreads for treating me with disdain. He probably feared I wanted intimacy just to steal information from him to give to mine.

In summary, despite my tantrums and protests, I was given out. Me, the sacrificial lamb.

I didn’t know I was crying as I stood looking out the window until I felt arms wrap around me from behind. Without even looking, I knew it was Benson. He was still as completely undressed as I was, intentionally brushing his flaccid man on my soft behind. “Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t, but I am now,” I smiled at him and wiggled playfully out of his embrace. I didn’t want anything that would keep arousing me. I needed to get the hell out of there. Staying out longer from the pack-house was simply me compounding my potential problems.

Someone knocked on the door and my heart skipped. “Who’s it?” I quietly questioned George who was the only dressed person amongst us.

“Relax,” he smiled. “It’s most likely someone from the hotel’s boutique delivering your dress we ordered earlier.”

“What if it isn’t?” I whispered, panicking.

The doorbell rang again. “You know what?” George whispered to me. “Go into the bathroom until we know who it is.” He turned around at George and commanded, “Wear some clothes, m*oron.”

I flounced towards the bathroom while George slipped into his singlet and boxers. I could no longer see them at this point, but I could hear them from my hiding place.

It was indeed someone from the boutique and I breathe in and out, relieved.

It was time to leave.