Alpha Asher By Jane Doe

Chapter 115

– I was only partially awake when I heard the bedroom door open. The cold draft in the
hallway whooshed into the bedroom, blowing Asher’s scent until it swirled around the room.

My nose twitched, and even in my sleep I knew when he was near. Fingers brushed my cheek. Just two,
trailing slowly to my jawline. The sparks, which could be overwhelming at times, turned subtle and

As his hand drifted lower, grazing my neck and shoulder, he gradually came to a stop. I could no longer
feel his fingers gliding over my skin, but instead knew where they hovered.

For months I pretended the crimson mark on my skin was non-existent, a nightmare that I had long ago
woken up from. Tristan was trying, working to make up for his mistakes and to preserve his people, but
I’d always have the physical reminder of what side he had once been on.

Even without his mark, as his Queen, I’d always have that faint connection to him.

“Is Zeke alive?” I mumbled sleepily.

“Alive and bailed out of the county j**l.” Asher’s reply had almost come a few seconds too late. My eyes
fluttered open, confusion and amusement written across them. It wasn’t surprising. Zeke with a bunch of
college students, things we bound to get crazy. “I’ll explain everything in the morning, after we both get
some sleep.”

My eyes opened just a sliver when I felt the rough palm of his hand against my stomach. A jolt of
awareness rushed through me, similar to adrenaline as I caught Asher’s swirling golden eyes, peering at
me through the darkness. The intensity of his gaze, the way he fixated on me obsessively. Was it
screwed up that I found that intoxicating?

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” He grunted, tugging on the hem of my tank- top with impatient

“Then undress me, Alpha.” I giggled sleepily, stretching my arms over my head as I watched pale threads
of moonlight stream through the c******s in the room.

Asher replied with a vicious snarl, and I knew that if I reached out, I’d be holding the stiff length of him in
my hand. He removed my tank-top with surprisingly gentle hands, toying with the fact that goosebumps
erupted wherever he touched.

Cold air enveloped me the moment my chest was b**e, the tank-top I had worn discarded on the floor.
My eyes were still shut, arms still splayed out above my head as I hovered in between sleep and
consciousness, that euphoric state where everything felt both sensitive and cloudy.

I could feel him watching me, peering through the dark as he devoured my b**e b*****s and soft curves.
Oh, we were playing this game again. Warmth blossomed between my legs, tightening my n*****s and
elevating my heartrate.

His fingers stilled at the top of the leggings I wore, teasing where my skin met the fabric with skilled

“Can I play with you, Lola?

“Mmm.” I sighed softly, turning my head on the pillow to get comfortable.

The haze had wore off as he slid my leggings off and tossed them onto the floor, leaving me hyper
sensitive and aching in all of the wrong ways. My b*****s bounced as I shifted in bed, my legs parting just
enough for Asher to slip his hand between.

“F**k, Lola. See how quickly you get wet for me?” I whimpered softly when his fingers glided through my
folds, collecting the wetness that coated my lips. As much as I tried to tone down my reaction, nothing
short of a miracle could keep my back from arching when he placed a thumb against my c**t, losing
some of his earlier gentleness. “You can try to pretend, but your body always gives away how much you
want this.”

I sank my teeth into my lower lip, silencing my reply. It was in my nature to fight, to revolt and thrash
against anyone who would hold me down. It was the nature of a werewolf, a Luna, and a Queen. There
had always been something about Asher that allowed me to let go, to forfeit the control I was always
seeking. Handing it over to him, it was exhilarating.

“You want to play quiet, sweetheart?” He chuckled low in my ear, his spontaneous nickname for me had
nearly broken my vow of silence.

There was nothing kind about the endearment. It was a challenge, a taunt, a promise. My eyes rolled
when I felt the blistering heat of him against me, the swollen head of his c**k nudging against my

His laugh was dark and bottomless, ” That’s fine by me. Don’t make a f*****g sound.”

Goddess, what had I gotten myself into.

One s****e of his length against me, his shaft gliding through my folds, grinding against my c**t until stars
danced in my eyes. The muscles in my legs and core clenched painfully, warning me how quickly my
o****m neared.

“I don’t even have to f**k you to make you scream for me.” He grunted in my ear, just as breathless and
lust-stricken as I would’ve sounded. His c**k felt like steel as he thrust it against me, the hand he used to
pin my hips down left small bruises that would heal all too quickly. The feral need that boiled in him, it

showed me how much he enjoyed this. He cursed under his breath, “You’re going to come, all from
rubbing that little pu*s* on my co*k.”

He was right; at some point I had begun moving my hips, matching his rough strokes as the head of his
c**k grinded against my c**t. My eyes fluttered open just in time, latching onto his as my p***y spasmed
and a desperate moan was ripped from my throat.

“Remember what I told you?” His eyes were blazing, orbs of molten gold that swirled and churned. I had
never seen him like this, this feral. Like the most savage parts of his wolf were rising to the surface. His
thick head parted my lips, pressing against my entrance. He slammed the full length of himself inside of
me, just as he clasped a hand over my mouth. “Don’t make a f*****g sound.”

I wasn’t sure I had ever screamed like this before. My p***y stretched until it was almost painful, wrapped
around his c**k as every brutal thrust made my eyes roll. Every whimper and plea for more, they were
muffled against his hand.

“That’s it, take my c**k.” Asher snarled, his words delayed as he cursed and rolled his hips against my
own. Every time my p***y throbbed around his shaft, he let out a husky grunt. “You can’t help but scream,
can you?”

There had to be something wrong with me. The feeling of his hand over my mouth, while he cursed and
shuddered in pleasure, it sent me spiraling over the edge.

At the last moment, his hand lifted from my mouth. His name was the first thing I cried out, sinking my
nails into his shoulders as I went loose and taut. He held me close, his pace still brutal as he found those
last moments of pleasure buried inside of me, His lips latched onto my bouncing b*****s, and I could feel
the moment he snarled my name against them, thrusting deep as his seed filled me.

Curled up in Asher’s arms, with everything blissfully sore, I had the best sleep I’ve managed in weeks. It
should have been common sense that with a good night’s sleep came a long and stressful day.

The next morning, I found myself perched on top of the marble counter in the kitchen. Standing between
my legs, smirking down at me as I devoured my third bowl of cereal, was Asher.

This was our first time living together, without the company of either one of our families. That alone made
it difficult, with our wandering eyes and greedy hands never getting enough of one another. In fact, we
were well on our way for round two when Asher’s cellphone began buzzing.

Zeke’s name flashed on the screen, accompanied by a picture he had to have taken himself. Asher
flipped the phone over, making me snort.

“Don’t ignore him. Who knows what he’s gotten himself into after last night, which you still have yet to
elaborate on.” I pointed out, flipping the phone back over.

Asher sighed and answered the call, while I ate another spoonful of cereal. He pressed the speaker
button, and immediately I began laughing at the whine that was Zeke’s voice.

“Don’t make fun of me, Lolaaaa.” He groaned, his voice extra gravely in the early morning hours. I swore
there was still a slight slur to his words, even though it should be wearing off by now.

“What do you need, Zeke? Party too hard?” Asher asked dryly.

“Ugh, can you come get me? I think I drank the liquor store.” He moaned miserably, “It even hurts to
mind-link you. I left my car at the lake. Some of Carson’s gymnast friends drove us to the afterparty.”

“Sure, we’ll be there. Text me the address.” Asher’s reply brought a grin to my face. Even brooding and
grumpy, he was a good friend.

“How was that after party, Zeke?”‘ I asked.

“Which part? The one where I figured out that college parties charge you for alcohol, or when I figured
out they’ll let you have a tab, but only if the Alpha is your best-friend.” Clearly, he was still somewhat

intoxicated, because sober Zeke usually had an easier time filtering what he said. “Or when I joined
Carson and her little gymnast friend for a little–“

“The first two parts, Zeke! The first two!”‘ I said hastily, placing a hand over my face.

“I’d like to hear more about that tab, and exactly who will be paying it.” Asher said, rightfully so.

If there was one thing all college students had in common, human or werewolf, was that they could throw
back some alcohol.