Alpha’s Obsession: An MC Werewolf Romance (Bad Boy Alphas Book 5)
Alpha’s Obsession: Chapter 11

Sam

“Come on,” I grab Layne’s hand as we leave Nash’s house. Laurie, Declan, and Parker are still drinking the nasty smelling liquor Declan scrounged up from who-knows-where. I almost feel sorry for Nash, and then I remember how his claws felt in my chest.

A little drunken Irish singing might be good for the lion. He can always throw them out.

“Where are we going?” Layne asks, tromping beside me. I lead her to a bike—an old Triumph Declan’s been working on. He made me swear on my liver I’d get it back to him in one piece.

Wavering strains of “All for Me Grog” reach us. I doubt Declan will notice if we’re a wee bit late.

“A motorcycle? Really?” Layne lights up.

I hand her a helmet. “Have you ever ridden on one?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“Hop on, sweetheart.” When she’s settled, I pull her arms around me tight. “You all right?”

“Yes! Shouldn’t you be wearing a helmet?”

I shrug, and let the bike roar forward, reveling in her delighted squeal. We go fast, taking the scenic route to La Jolla beach, stopping only for food and at a store where she can buy a bathing suit.

“Thank you,” she squeezes me before hopping off the bike. I follow her like a puppy, wearing huge dopey grin, but I don’t care.

A few hours later, I’m thinking taking Layne to the beach wasn’t my brightest idea.

Seeing her dancing in the waves of the ocean in that tiny blue bikini is putting serious strain on my willpower. I keep staring at the triangle covering the place I want to be.

But this isn’t about me.

Layne’s anger yesterday brought home the stark reality of her life—it won’t be long.

It won’t be long and she’s hardly lived it. She’s been cooped up in a classroom or lab her entire life.

So I decided enough is enough. We may not have a future, but we have this moment.

Today.

I owe her big time after upsetting her with yesterday’s fight. I can’t put away my mission to rid the world of Smyth’s evil, but I can see that Layne experiences some of the joys of living in southern California.

I run down the beach and pick her up by the waist, carrying her deeper into the water.

She shrieks and wraps her legs tight around me, exactly the way I’d imagined. I stop as a wave crashes around our waists, then carry her deeper still. Our lips meld. She smells like salt and sun and the sweet jasmine scent that coats her hair.

“I never imagined I’d be here,” she confesses.

“Where?”

“Not where. Doing this. Having a romantic romp on the beach with my boyfriend.”

The word boyfriend shouldn’t send rockets shooting in the sky all around me. I’m a wolf—we don’t date, we mate. But I’m so fucking proud to be that for her, my newly repaired heart almost bursts.

I press my forehead against hers. “Is this romantic? I was hoping, but I wasn’t sure.” There I go again. No game. An alpha male would never admit weakness. Even to his female.

But Layne hasn’t seemed to mind that I’m not an alpha.

“You know what I can’t understand?” I ask.

“What?”

“How every male in a thirty mile radius didn’t beat your door down to claim you. Do you have any idea how hot you look in that bikini?” I’d bought our suits at a swim shop when we arrived, since neither of us had beach provisions.

Layne’s thighs tighten around my waist and she kisses me again. All I can think is that only a scrap of damp fabric is keeping me from exactly where I want to be.

I groan. “Seriously, sweetheart. You’re going to have to stop unless you want me to put you on your hands and knees in the sand and drive home until you scream for mercy.” I let her hips fall lower, bringing the notch between her legs over my hardened cock.

Her inner thighs squeeze again, nipples harden into beads. When she jacks her hips to rub herself against me, I nearly lose my footing. “On second thought, don’t stop. You keep grinding that sweet pussy over my cock and I’ll find a way to let you finish.”

I carry her back toward the shore, scanning the landscape for somewhere, anywhere, I can get her alone, but the beach is packed with people. I change direction and head back in the water, wading until the level reaches our chests. A wave splashes over us and I jump to keep our heads out of it.

“What about here?” I palm her ass and help her grind harder over the bulge in my swim trunks. “Did you ever imagine you’d be fucking your boyfriend in broad daylight in the ocean?”

“No,” she pants. “Is that what we’re doing?”

I search her face, but I see no sign of alarm or reluctance. Only bald desire. I lick the salt water from her neck and thrust against that patch of blue fabric. “I don’t have a condom with me,” I admit reluctantly. I’m not sure it would hold up in the salt water anyway. “But I’ll bet you a hot air balloon ride I can make you come.”

She laughs, her smile lighting her beautiful face. “A hot air balloon ride?” She cranes her neck up as if she might see one now.

It’s what I have planned for the afternoon—a sunset flight over Del Mar—but I need to make sure she’s not afraid of heights or something.

“Bring it on, wolfie,” she murmurs, voice husky.

I shift my hands, which is easy with the water carrying most of her weight now. One palm cups the crack of her ass and I bring the thumb of my other hand to her clit. “You hang onto my neck, sweetheart. If you need to sink those nails into me, feel free. If you want to bite, it’ll only make me work harder for your orgasm, baby.”

Her lids droop. Beads of water cover her face, glistening like diamonds on her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips. She’s a sea-goddess now, the feminine divine.

I wedge my middle finger between her ass cheeks, over her suit fabric, until I find the tight muscles of her anus.

She treats me to a hoarse cry the moment I make contact and I press my advantage by vibrating her clit. She bucks, riding me like a bronco. I alternate teasing her anus and her clit, until she’s moaning, rubbing her fuck-perfect tits against my chest, nails scoring my back.

“Sam.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Say my name before you come. Remember who marked you.”

“Sam, yes, Sam!” She squeals, convulsing against me, eyes squeezed shut, then flashing wide, as if the force of her orgasm surprised her. “Ohhh, oh.” She moans when it passes, her body relaxing against mine. She bites my ear. “What about you, wolfie?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about you using a nickname Declan coined,” I observe dryly, but a smile tugs at my lips. I carry her out of the water and up the shore, to settle her on the beach towels I bought.

I sit quickly to hide my wood. “I’m going to exact payment from that hot little body of yours later,” I promise.

Her eyes dilate and she licks her lips. “I love it when you make me pay.”

I open the bag of food I bought for our picnic to distract myself from my need to claim her twenty times in rapid succession.

In front of everyone on this beach.

Down, boy. This day is for Layne. I open a carton of strawberries and feed her one, watching the way the juice pools and trickles down her lips. I lick it off, then feed her another.

“I haven’t been in the ocean since my mom,” Layne says.

I go still. “No?”

She shakes her head. “My mom loved the ocean. She used to take me to Baker Beach. We’d stay all day and play in the waves.”

I pick up her hand and squeeze it. “Is it hard? Being at a beach again?”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s perfect. Everything about this day is perfect, Sam. Thank you.” Leaning forward, she kisses the side of my mouth.

I unwrap a sandwich and hand it to her. “There’s more.”

“There is? What?”

“Remember our bet?”

~.~

Layne

I had no idea there a swimming pool could be shaped like a baby grand piano. But there it is. I’m in a hot air balloon looking down into the yards of the rich and famous. Turns out the piano shaped pool was put in by Liberace, but he sold the place years ago.

I hook my hand around Sam’s elbow and stand on my tiptoes to peer over the edge of the basket. “Look at that one!” I exclaim for the forty-fifth time.

Sam’s not looking at the view, he’s watching me. And he’s got this soft, happy look on his face I’ve never seen before.

I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. “Thank you,” I whisper. There are other people in the basket and I don’t want them to hear our private moment. “I know what you’re doing.”

He pulls me up against his lean, powerful frame. “What am I doing?”

“Checking off bucket list items for me.”

His grip tightens and he sucks in a sharp breath, but says nothing.

“If I had a bucket list—which I don’t—meeting you would be a the top of it,” I murmur.

I’ve never been one to spill my guts so easily, but it’s like I can feel the clock ticking down—to my demise. To Sam’s. Because I have a feeling he’s not out of the fray yet. There’s no time to play small. If I want to experience a relationship—experience love—before I die, now is the time.

I’m in a hot air balloon with the most incredible man I’ve ever known.

Sam doesn’t answer, but his breath is labored, as if he’s having a hard time with his emotions. I know my illness is a bitch to accept.

I lay my cheek against his chest and watch the scenery glide by as we float just below the clouds.

“Me too,” he rasps at last.

I look up at him. His blue eyes are clear, but that world of pain I read in them the first time we met is even deeper.

“So our lives are fulfilled.” I’m trying to lighten the mood, but it falls flat. We both stare at each other.

Something inside me is screaming, I’m not done yet! I have more of my life to live! But I don’t get that choice.

I can’t choose it for me, and as much as I want to, I can’t make Sam choose it for himself, either.

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