The Alpha's Lover

Little Pink Pills

Author's Note: This will be the last A/N that I put before the actual chapter.

Readers of The Alpha's Lover I need to drop you yet another warning..or caution...or whatever. If you are under the age of 16 (or 15) you might find the story disturbing. I'm never going to be r-rated when it comes to sex but there will be references to nudity only because I want you to picture what's going on in the story.  I'm just letting you guys know that the name is completely accurate. The main character is not a virgin(anymore), she is not being held with kid gloves . She is The Alpha's Whore...basically (but I didn't want to make the story so crass so I took Whore out and put Lover in)  I just really wanted to give you guys a head up about what I plan to do with the story. Also I want to avoid any comments that are along the lines of 'ew' 'omg why would you write that?' and 'you should have like totally warned us that that was going to happen.'

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I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat.  Washington was cool for the summer, but the heavy arm pressed against my breast like weights made it hard for the cool air to circulate throughout my body. I groaned and shifted to my right just so to rid my body of the arm--- and the person attached to it. When it didn’t budge I cursed under my breath and rolled my body to the right again. The sheets intertwined with my naked legs gave free.

Ivaylo grunted.

Like a lioness I watched him as I climbed down from the canopy bed. My hands grasped the hard edge of the mattress, I placed one foot gently on the cold embossed floor and then the next. Light drifted in from the skylight above and some slipped in from the exposed part of the window my velvet red drapes hadn’t covered. Ivaylo slept, a beautiful demon, wild and unruly with his legs stretched against my egg shell comforter. White against near white.

A strand of hair fell in my face, I blew it away and when that didn’t help pushed it back along with the remaining mass of wild curls. Ivaylo had tugged my hair free of its band last night, an act that I wasn’t too fond of but grew used to. It was an indication that he was about to get to business. He loved to press his hands in my hair, like claws and hold my head there to rub the cottony mass against his skin.

I found my band on the floor, bent over to pick it up and fastened my hair into a sloppy bun. I gave the sleeping figure a side eye before I made my way across the room and disappeared into my inner room, my massive walk in closet. It wasn’t fair to call it solely a walk in closet; it was much too big and encompassed more than clothes and shoes. A tiny room to left gave way to an elegant bathroom complete with a Jacuzzi bath and shower fixture, a quaint settee resided against the bronze north wall and a revolving rack of clothing with more than one hundred articles remained rooted in the corner between the south and east wall. It was crazy.

Who wouldn’t have enjoyed all of that?

I rolled my eyes and sifted through the rack for a simple pair of linen pants and a white tee. On the south wall I reached for a pair of  black panties and a bra. Being Ivaylo’s mistress, whore, or whatever else anyone called it had forced me to become lax when it came to nudity. Often he had me to parade in front of him as he sat on my bed like a child with his chin in his hand, his belly pressed against my comforter and his long legs crossed like an x in the air. He enjoyed it.

“Now walk that way,” he would say.

I’d steel my face and swallow any humiliation I felt and tug my hair down so that it hid the majority of my small breasts and I’d do as he said.

“Move your hair,” his eyes would glint and his smile would then reach up to his eyes as I imagined he laughed inside.

“I don’t want to,” it was the last amount of dignity I’d had, what more did he need?