Alphas Read online

  Alphas

  A Small Collection

  Matilda Martel

  Copyright © 2019 by Matilda Martel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  The Trophy Wife

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Disciplined in Paris

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Big Daddy: Tale of a Hot Wife

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Follow Me

  The Trophy Wife

  I’ve always led a pretty boring life. That’s not a complaint, it’s just a statement of fact. There’s nothing wrong with boring, really. I grew up in a nice suburb just outside New York to parents who gave me pretty much everything I needed—I wasn’t spoiled, I just don’t remember having to go without very much. Like I said, there is nothing wrong with boring. Most of my life was pretty much planned out as soon as I made my appearance 19 years ago in a small hospital in Westchester County. I went to a private Catholic school, followed by a prestigious private high school which was meant to ensure I was accepted into the family alma mater, Yale University. Both my parents attended Yale, and my grandfather and my great-grandfather and so on- I am a legacy. But my father would have considered it bad form if I didn’t have the grades to get in on my own merit—it would have been dishonorable. When I got my early acceptance letter, there was a huge sigh of relief at the dinner table and they happily went back to fussing over my younger brother.

  The whole college experience was something that never appealed much to me. I truly just wanted to get in and get out as quickly as possible. I didn’t pledge to a ridiculous sorority, go binge drinking or go boy crazy from finally being let off of my short leash. After my first year, I was allowed to move off campus and my parents were so impressed with my grades they offered to help me get a place, but I declined. The dorms were fine. My one extracurricular activity had been to volunteer as a Resident Assistant to help incoming freshman get settled into campus life and living in housing made my job easier. It was this decision that would change my boring life forever.

  During Welcome Week, all R.A.s were assigned to different houses to help incoming freshman girls arriving with their parents get settled into their rooms. These were long days filled with anxious parents and excited girls who all eventually complained about the state of the old dorm rooms on the New Haven campus. Between fielding questions, listening to arrogant grumbles and trying to make each parent understand that I could not personally look after their daughter day in and day out, I was exhausted. I didn’t think it could get any worse, but on the last day of move-ins, a young girl arrived with her parents towards the end of my shift. Her name was Justine Kleber and she had an asterisk by her name. Anyone with an asterisk had already been pegged as difficult either because they had proven hard to handle earlier in the week or because they or their parents had been calling in their criticisms ahead of time. In Justine’s case, it was her mother, Mrs. Alice Kleber-Ross.

  Justine arrived with her very tall, elegant mother wearing diamonds to help her daughter move in and a man introduced to me as Angus Ross, Justine’s stepfather. I knew him by name, his tech empire was notorious for swallowing up smaller companies and had driven a few of my father’s friend’s out of business. While I put on my happy face to welcome Justine and Mrs. Kleber-Ross, Mr. Ross slowly followed the ladies, staring curiously and hanging on every word I said. He was incredibly tall—I felt like a child standing next to him, but by the look in his eye, he found my 5’2 frame endearing. Every time I drew close to him to point something out, he peered down at me and smiled, as if he wanted to pet the top of my head. His eyes were bright blue, which almost sparkled against his pale skin and dark hair. By the end of my tour, I found myself becoming strangely attracted to him, but I shook my head and pushed that silly thought out of my mind. He was an older married man and I was obviously just in need of male attention. Maybe my long-dormant sex drive was finally beginning to make its overdue appearance. Being a 19-year-old virgin had to be some kind of record.

  When I finally left them alone to help Justine unpack, Mr. Ross followed me out into the hallway. “Miss Burns? Peyton?” His previous air of confidence rapidly disappeared.

  “You can call me Peyton. Is something wrong, Mr. Ross?” I was genuinely concerned his wife had requested something else.

  “No, nothing’s wrong and please call me Angus. Thank you so much for all your help today. You’ve been exceedingly patient and I apologize for my wife’s behavior.” He smiled and extended his hand.

  Shaking his oversized hand nervously, I giggled flirtatiously, unable to control the butterflies in my stomach from fluttering.

  “No worries, I’m sure she’s just nervous dropping off her daughter. We get that a lot. I’ll be in the office if you need anything—if not, have a safe trip home!”

  Feeling like an idiot for not coming up with something cleverer, I scurried down the hall to get away from his piercing stare as soon as possible. Just before I turned the corner, I took one more glance behind me and found Angus Ross still standing by Justine’s door, gazing provocatively at me without the least bit of thought to his wife standing a few feet away. If I hadn’t been so turned on, I might have been offended.

  Chapter 2

  As you can guess, that was not the last I heard from Mr. Angus Ross. On the contrary, he was just getting started. The day after we met, I received three dozen pink roses and a thank you card from him. It was a lovely message and he was very eloquent and sweet—but very married. I hadn’t held on to my virginity all through high school and a year into college just to give it up to a married man in his forties. Well, actually I’d just been too busy to get close enough to anyone to give it away-- but in the end, it was all the same. He was taken and I wasn’t a home-wrecker. Except, none of that appeared to bother him very much.

  A week after classes began and well after my daily flower delivery had commenced, Angus Ross rode up next to me in his limousine while I walked home from the library. Rolling down the window and smiling at me, he apologized for catching me by surprise.

  “Miss Burns….Peyton…forgive my intrusion to your evening. I just had my driver bring me all the way from the city on the off chance I might catch you and here you are. May we speak?” I felt weak in his presence, too vulnerable to be trusted to be alone with him.

  “You can walk me to my dorm. I’d rather not get in there.” I stopped in my tracks but fidgeted as I spoke, pointing to my building and avoiding eye contact.

  I watched him step out of the car and instinctively reach for my book bag. He was dressed in a hand-tailored suit, maybe a Savile Row design, and when his cologne wafted into my nostrils, I thought my knees might give out. There was no reason for him to be stalking me and I was nuts to be playing along, but he looked so good and I’d been lonely for so long, how harmful was a little walk to my dorm?

  “Thank you for the flowers, Angus. But you’ve already thanked me for helping Justine.” It wasn’t in my nature to play coy, but he hadn’t really given me much of an explanation for all the extra deliveries.

  “I like you Peyton. I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable but there is something about you that I can’t get out of my head—like a song replaying in my mind and keeping me up at night.” He took my hand and nudged me towards his car. “Come take a ride with me. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

  Shaking my head, I reached for my bag. “Mr. Ross, you’re married. Believe me, I’m flattered, but I’m not that kind of girl. I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time coming here.”

  Taking my hand in his, he edged closer until he was looming over, gazing down at me from his great height. “I filed for divorce, Peyton. I’ll show you copies of the paperwork. I don’t expect you to take my word for it. I wouldn’t put you in this awkward position if my intentions were less than honorable. I like you and I’d like to get to know you better.”

  Unable to speak, I batted my eyelashes nervously, trying to gauge his sincerity. He was so beautiful, and he’d hardly left my thoughts in the last two weeks, but he was too old for me—he had to know he was too old for me. Stammering as I tried to come up with an appropriate response, I finally nodded and allowed him to lead me into the back seat of his limo. After he asked his driver to take us on a short trip around New Haven, he began asking me more about myself.

  “You’re a legacy? Your parents attended Yale?” He smirked as he asked, probably wondering if I would catch on how he knew that.

  I stuttered timidly, admitting that I was before realizing he shouldn’t know that. “How? Are you looking into my background?”

  “I did some checking up on you. I was curious. Like I said, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head and in truth, I had no idea who I was so infatuated with.” He handed me a folder and asked me to open it.

  “What is this?” I peeked inside but didn’t get a close look.

  “My petition for divorce. It won’t be final for two more months, but I wanted you to see that I wasn’t pursuing you as a married man. I am legally separated. Do yo
u have a boyfriend?” He cocked his head to one side and softened his expression.

  I shook my head and handed his folder back to him. “No, I wouldn’t have gotten in this car with you if I did. Mr. Ross…Angus…thank you for being honest with me and trying to be transparent, but we’re not exactly compatible. You’re old enough to be my father.”

  “Nonsense, your father is years older than me. Will you come here?” He patted the area next to him.

  My mouth twitched as I fought a smile. Although I was dying to sit closer to him, I felt weak and wasn’t sure I could trust myself. When I hesitated, he tapped the seat again, and gave me his best come hither look. Giggling like a schoolgirl, I jumped over and sat next him, unsure of what I was getting myself into.

  “Angus remember you said you’d be a gentleman. I really should get back to the dorm now. It’s almost 10.”

  “It’s 8:30. I have a watch too, Peyton.” Lifting my chin up, he gazed into my eyes and winked before softly grazing his lips against mine. As he gently licked my bottom lip, a chill traveled down my spine, making me shudder and lunge forward into his arms. Taking that as a cue to do more, Angus wrapped his hands around my waist and brought me up on his lap.

  I was stunned, but when he crushed his lips against mine, forcing my mouth open with his tongue and weaved his fingers into my hair to pull me closer, I meekly surrendered to his powerful embrace. Whimpering and moaning from the feverish rhapsody being played out on my mouth and neck, I attempted to regain some semblance of control.

  “Angus, you promised.” I squirmed on his lap, but all it did was make me grind down on the rock-hard erection jetting up from his trousers. Gasping with surprise, I pulled away from him only to have him lurch forward, digging his face into my cleavage.

  “Am I being ungentle?” He slid my blouse off my shoulders and proceeded to trail small pecks along my collar and arms.

  Partially exposed, knowing my lace bra did nothing to hide my nipple from his view, I leaned in closer, attempting to shield my chest from him. “Not ungentle, but I’m not ready for this, Angus. I’ve never….” I sighed knowing how infantile I was about to sound. “I’ve never been with a man before.”

  He suddenly stopped his groping and looked at me wide-eyed, stunned by my admission. Pulling my sleeve back up he kissed me gently and leaned his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I got ahead of myself. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Feeling like he was judging me or rejecting me for being a virgin, I hopped off his lap and went back to my seat across from him, all while fighting a visible pout. Sensing I’d been misunderstood, he took my hand and pulled me back.

  “Peyton, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just feel a bit like a cad trying to take advantage of you. I still want you, maybe more than ever—but I’ll take it slower, I promise.” Caressing my face, he kissed my nose sweetly and exhaled in frustration. “It’s not going to be easy, but I’ve always known what I want the moment I see it. I know you’re for me, Peyton Burns.”

  “I don’t understand, you don’t really know me.” I traced my finger along his Adam’s apple, teasing him while I kissed his chin and jawline.

  Groaning with lust, he caught my hand and kissed it. “I know enough. You light up the room little girl and you make me feel like a caveman coming up here to claim you before any of these ridiculous teenage boys try to take what’s mine.” He made a teasing growling sound and mocked biting my neck.

  “Thank you for coming to see me, but cavemen don’t ride in limos and you have no claim over me, Mr. Ross.” I grabbed my bag and jumped off his lap.

  “But I will, Miss Burns. You’re going to be mine. I’ll be back on Saturday to take you to dinner.” His driver stopped in front of my residence and I furrowed my brow, annoyed by his presumptive attempt to confirm plans before asking me out.

  “I never agreed to dinner!”

  “Peyton, are you going to be a bad girl? Say you’re having dinner with me on Saturday.” He smiled wickedly and stepped out to walk me to the door.

  “Pardon me? I am a very good girl.” I huffed as I took my bag.

  “Good, then I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  Chapter 3

  For the record, I knew things were going to get out of hand as soon as he showed up wearing a suit with no tie. I could see his muscular chest peeking out from the few unopened buttons and was held captivated even before we reached the restaurant. As for me, I tried not to dress provocatively, but I only had so many dresses available on hand. One of the girls I worked with helped me fix my long brown hair--she called it beach waves, whatever that means-- and I managed to squeeze my ample behind, the product of genes and 100 squats a day into a short black dress. There was no hiding my tits, but I was hoping the boatneck collar would make them look smaller and not so “in your face” if you know what I mean. It was too humid to wear hosiery, so I strapped on some high-heel sandals, since our 15-inch height difference gave me plenty to work with and hoped for the best. I could tell almost immediately, he was pleased.

  Before dinner, we took a short helicopter ride back into the city. A bit ostentatious but a great way to get me sitting close to him, hanging on for dear life. He took me to his favorite place, a small restaurant in the Upper East Side that I suspected was near his home. We talked about all kinds of things, art, the city, his childhood in Virginia and why he was getting a divorce. Although he admitted I was the catalyst that finally made him file, he said his 7-year marriage had been over for years.

  “Were you very much in love?” It seemed like a legitimate question. He’d married her with a young daughter, and she seemed like a pretty lady—at least on the outside.

  “No, I thought I loved her, but I realized soon after I never really did, not the way you’re supposed to love someone. She’s not a very nice person and I’m not sure how I didn’t notice that before we were married. I’d like to think she was pretending, but it’s on me for not seeing through it.” He sipped his martini and gazed at me dreamingly.

  “Have you ever been in love, Peyton? Or thought you were?”

  Smiling and looking away embarrassed, I shook my head. “No, it never seemed like I had much time to even take much notice of boys. Me getting into Yale was so important for my parents, I feel like I’ve been working on it my whole life.”

  “But that’s your parent’s goal, not yours. What’s wrong with Columbia? It’s right here in the city.” He knew what he was doing, driving a wedge between my family and I, but it was only the first of many. Angus wanted me to transfer and he was not above manipulation to get his way.

  “Columbia is fine, but it’s not Yale.” I smirked, knowing what he was doing. “Where did you go to school?”

  “I went to Harvard, but that’s not why I have a problem with Yale. It’s just that you said it was so important to your parents. You failed to say how it was important to you.” He let the waiter take our order and allowed me to stew briefly before answering.

  “I should have said it was important for me too. That’s my fault. It means a lot to me.” I tried to look away, annoyed, but he took my hand and kissed it.

  “Whatever is important to you, is important to me.” His lying little face leaned in closer and nudged me to kiss him. If he hadn’t smelled so good, I might have held out longer than 30 seconds.

  By the end of dinner, we couldn’t keep our hands off of one another. Whether it was stroking a forearm, petting a thigh, caressing a cheek, leaning against a shoulder or holding hands, Angus and I were acting like spellbound teenagers anxious to get the check and go somewhere private.

  He convinced me to walk over to his new penthouse—he’d moved out of the place he shared with Alice, but I was still afraid to be alone with him.