Page 46 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
I blink.
Isabella’s twisted her face towards me and is staring right at me. Her fingertips rest on my knee.
“What?” I say.
She gestures with her head towards my bandmate.
“I was saying …” Trey continues but I’m tuning straight out again, because my attention’s been caught by Isabella’s cleavage, by the curve of her tits disappearing under her dress, and what I swear is the tight bud of a nipple poking through the layers. What I’d do to that if I could only lay my hands on it …
Isabella pokes me in the ribs and I jerk back to attention. She leans in to whisper in my ear and I notice Trey’s given up on us and is talking to West.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “You seem a little … distracted.”
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth, my free hand a balled fist by my side.
“Am I squishing you? Do you want me to move? I can–” She starts to rise and I pull her straight back down.
“This is fine.” More than fine. “We need to look convincing for our audience, don’t we?” Her eyes dart to the other guests. It probably never even occurs to her that convincing everyone at this party that we are dating isn’t my true motivation for having her perched on my knee.
Unfortunately, the spell is broken a few minutes later, when West decides we should all play volleyball and pulls the omega off my lap and towards the sand.
“He’ll only play if you do,” he tells Isabella who grabs my hand and tugs me along with them.
“Girls versus boys?” West asks.
“No way,” his omega, Ruby, yells. “You’re twice the size of us and three times as strong. That’s hardly fair.”
“Okay,” West says surveying us all. “Hunter, Isabella and Trey on one team. Me, Ruby, Ash and Layla on the other.”
“There’s one more of you!” Isabella protests with her hands on her hips.
“But you have Hunter and he’s a walking giant and the equivalent of two men.”
“True,'' Isabella says, reaching up to kiss my cheek and making my skin tingle.
Maybe it’s true what they say about me, that I’m over competitive about everything I do. And maybe today I am even more competitive than usual, wanting to make every ball, wanting to win every point. Diving for the ball, sprinting across the sand, punching and hitting.
“Jeez, man!” Ash mutters when I smack another ball into the sand right at his feet and we win the point again. “This isn’t the Olympics.”
But Isabella just squeals, clapping her hands together and high-fiving me. It’s her I’m doing it for of course. I can’t fight that alpha instinct to try to impress her, to show her how much better I am than every other man here. No, I can’t fight that instinct when merely minutes ago she was practically sitting on my cock.
But I’m mindful not to exclude her from the game. I don’t want to be one of those dicks that steals each of her shots or cuts her up. Instead, I set her up to deliver the killer blow as often as I can, mostly because she flings her arms around my neck in joy every time I do.
After half an hour, we’re all panting hard, sweat racing down our brows and Layla has sunk into the sand declaring she can’t take any more.
Ash lifts her up into his arms and jogs towards the sea.
“What are you doing?” she cries.
“You’re all sweaty, Omega. I’m throwing you in the water.” She starts to scream and the others all race along behind them, shedding off their clothes and revealing their swimsuits underneath.
“You wanna go for a dip?” I ask Isabella.
“Uh huh,” she says, then with a smile adds, “last one in’s a smelly butt.”
“A what now?” I mutter, jogging along behind her. I could easily sprint past her, but then I’d miss the view as she strips off her dress. Her ass jiggles as she runs and she’s wearing those bottoms that are cut away at the ass leaving very little to the imagination. As if my Goddamn imagination needed any more encouragement.
My cock stiffens all over again and I race past her into the water not wanting everyone to see my hard on.
