Page 47 of Rocked By the Alpha
He smiles, thinking of that visual. His music is hardly PG13-safe. It’s raw, dirty. It’s why that song about the girl in the red dress, and all the sordid things he wanted to do to her, caused such a storm.
At the time,Sweet Desire’snew video was going viral. Each member wrapped in a bright jewel coloured dress. Nat green, Tanya blue, Ruby red.
He’s always been elusive about who the woman in the dress was but rumours started and her band wasn’t happy.
Yeah, the song was pretty damn dirty and raw. Like him. Perhaps he keeps it hidden beneath the laid back facade, but it’s in there.
The buzzer blares and he shakes his head, coming back to himself. For a moment, he holds the guitar, then places it carefully beside him and rises to his feet.
His steps to the intercom are slow. Got to keep the pretence, the show. He’s a very efficient actor, the act perfected. So good he forgets sometimes where it ends and where he starts.
He presses his thumb against the button, and Ruby’s face appears on the grainy screen.
“Evenin’,” he says, “can I help you?”
“Let me in, asshole.”
He whacks the gate button and goes to grab his jacket and his wallet.
She’s waiting for him at the front door when he opens it, dressed from head to toe in leather. His gaze slides down the black sleek material and he blinks.
“I know I said we were going somewhere casual but—”
She thumbs over her shoulder and he steps around her to look at the Norton motorbike parked in the middle of the drive.
He whistles low, stepping towards it. “This yours?”
She grins widely and comes to stand next to the machine, running her palm over the sleek and gleaming metal. “Yes, this is my baby. My pride and joy.”
He whistles again and shakes his head. “You kept this quiet.”
She shrugs. “Men tend to get jealous of what we have going on, don’t they, baby?” She leans down and kisses the seat tenderly.
“And so what? You’ve come to tell me we can’t go on this date, because you’ve chosen him over me? Or are you inviting me on some kind of threesome?”
She swings her leg over the bike and pats the seat behind her.
“You coming? Or you got a problem being driven by a woman?”
“I’m not turning down the opportunity to seat you between my thighs, Ruby.”
“Pervert.”
“You’re the one kissing a bike.”
He locks up the house and then walks back over. Gripping her by the waist, he swings his own leg over the bike and sits himself down.
She revs the engine. “Listen, he even purrs like an Alpha.”
He shuffles closer, so that his body presses flush against hers, and whispers in her ear, “But can he make you come like I can?”
“Feel that vibration …” she says. “Where are we going?”
He gives her the address and she raises her eyebrow quizzically. Then she kicks her heels up onto the bike and glides it down the drive and through the gate.
The wind whips through his hair as they scoot down the quiet roads, and he can feel the way her thighs tense and relax against his, guiding the bike as they weave up and then down the valley, the other lights of traffic flickering in his vision.
She’s a good rider, if a little reckless, weaving easily in and out of traffic, and speeding up whenever she can. The bike hums beneath them and around one wide corner, their weight shifts and they tip right to the side, the tarmac of the road seemingly dangerously close. He leans in further to her, following the lead of her body as she sways this way and that.
