Page 7 of The Alpha's Gamble
When had I last tangled physically with another alpha? Not since I was a teenager, probably, and I’d been stronger…that time.
But MacKenna—he wasn’t just stronger in terms of his negotiating position.
He was stronger, full stop.
And that combined with the machine-gun-bullets to the chest effect of his words had me gasping in shock. His grandparents? What the hell had he been doing with a menial job here, even if his parents had—done what, precisely? Spent too much money, probably. Made bad decisions. I had a vague recollection of someone who worked at the Morrigan telling me, years ago, about how the previous owners of the place had gone bankrupt, and that had almost certainly been MacKenna’s parents. Gods, I could empathize with that, with having parents who cared more about looking rich and successful than about reality, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to establish any common ground.
Quite the opposite.
Fuck, he was wrong about me! He was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, but how could I explain that to him?
And he claimed he wasn’t forcing me? I didn’t have a choice, no matter how much it amused him to pretend I did.
I could see the headlines now, whirring through my mind’s eye like those newspaper montages in old movies.
Alpha Castelli Heir Arrested in Vegas.
Castelli Pack Embroiled in Scandal: Will the Family Business Survive?
Castelli Industries Stock Plummets as Blake Castelli Faces Fraud Charges.
At least this humiliation would be private, like all the ones that had come before it at the hands of my overbearing father. Once I’d…satisfiedMacKenna—and the huge, intimidating bulge in the front of his trousers now only a couple of feet from my face clearly showed me how that would happen—no one would know. My brother, the company board. They’d never know. I could still try something else to get my life back in order and get what I deserved from my family.
But I wouldn’t do it unless he spelled it out. Apparently I’d demanded that he blow me? Well, he could fucking come down to my level if he wanted me to submit to him.
“You have to say it,” I rasped, wincing as his fingers twitched around my wrists, fresh pain blooming in ten points of contact. “Explicitly. If you’re going to blackmail me, you should fucking say it.”
At that, he threw his head back and laughed, a pleasant, mellow sound that grated on every single one of my nerves. “Blackmail you? As if you have any bloody moral high ground. You’re facing the consequences of your own actions.”
“Suck your cock or go to jail?” I spat, forgetting how determined I’d been to make him say it first. Damn it all to hell, now he could truthfully claim it’d been my idea, not his! But I couldn’t take it back now. “That’s not much of a choice.”
He grinned, eyes gleaming with malice. “You said it, not me.”
Damnit.
“Because you—you—fuck you, we both knew what you meant!”
“You said it first. Ten years ago, and tonight.” Taunting. Cruel, so cruel, and I hadn’t deserved this… “You’re wrong about the bargain, though. The scope of it, anyway. Sucking my cock’s just for tonight. You think one probably terrible blowjob’s going to cover all your debts, financial and otherwise? Think again, darlin’.”
Stung and furious, I cried out, “Terrible blowjob? You fucking—” And then I stopped dead, my own words ringing in my ears. “It’s blackmail, and you’re a sophist,” I added weakly.
Because those should have been my objections from the start, not his opinion of my likely skills with my mouth. My leg hurt. My wrists hurt. And I was sprawled at his feet, barely able to pull in a full breath. That had to be my excuse for my brain going haywire.
“Oooh, ten dollar word,” he drawled. “And I’m sorry to cast aspersions on your abilities, Castelli. I’m done talking about this. You’re mine until I say otherwise. You’ll do what I say, when I say, and we’ll work out the details of how long you’ll be paying me back once I see what you have to offer. If you’re any good at it, maybe you’ll be able to work it off in a few months.”
“A fewmonths?” I gaped at him, aghast. “This—I can’t possibly owe you—you didn’t even cash the check!”
“I’m going to let go of you, and you’re going to open your pretty fucking mouth and take what I’m giving you. Or it’s prison for you, Castelli.”
His flat tone told me his patience had run out. The back of my neck prickled with sweat, and spots swam in my vision, nearly obscuring his harsh face and powerful body curled over mine, the fly of his pants with his hard cock behind it.
I couldn’t go to jail.
Without a word, because I couldn’t imagine anything I could say that’d make him have a little mercy, I struggled up enough to get my other leg under me and kneel properly between his feet.
I opened my mouth and waited.
I still couldn’t remember most of that night when I’d apparently ruined his life, temporarily anyway.
