Announcing Wooing the Alpha, a fourteen-part erotica series
It’s 2021, and I’d like to announce an upcoming serial release for the year. Wooing the Alpha: a series of fourteen sexy shorts.
So, here’s the first cover and blurb and a sexy little excerpt.
Back Blurb:
Thirteen Clans. Thirteen Males. One prize.
Winter Jarl is the most notorious female warrior of her species. Her father is chief, and he’s dying, so he’s cashed in on a promise she made long ago: he’s setting her up with an alpha from each of the thirteen clans before she takes over his position.
Sentenced to a year of isolation, she will spend twenty-eight-days alone with each man. By the end of it, Winter must choose one to stand beside her.
The challenge? She must be in love to produce an heir.
Cycle One: Chasing Winter
When Winter’s oath comes due, she isn’t ready to give up her freedom, her body, or her future. Too bad her nature won’t be doing her any favors.
Thunder is young and inexperienced and the first to encounter Winter Jarl’s deadly sexuality. But he’s got a bucket list of positions he wants to take her in, and he’s willing to face her wrath just to check each one off.
***
Meet Winter:
Winter carried the box to her new bed, redressed before she made her way upstairs, probably before she arrived at the manse. Her father’s departure slammed the dread back across her shoulders, and for once, she wasn’t afraid of their slumping forward in defeat.
Her fingers trembled as she cut through the tape with her thumbnail. The puff of sweet powder came with the pulling back of a flap—the scent distinctly her mother’s. Winter closed her eyes to it, dropped back into her youth and the comfort of her mother’s breast.
Inside the box, the contents surprised her. A few jars and bowls, a couple of scripted sets of instructions with them, for her cleansing rituals. Cleaning implements in various shapes and sizes, including one that was not-so-vaguely penial shaped. She would have to cleanse herself everywhere.
Ointments and slaves and salts and candles and sage: all of her mother’s favorite tinctures and herbs to keep our home safe and free of negativity—not an easy task having Winter within the walls.
A letter tucked into the back corner under some of the herbs and incense and candles and crystals. Winter wasn’t ready for the surprise message. Not yet. Instead, she unpacked the rest of the contents and laid them out on the altar by the north window, the one that overlooked the village.
Step one, a bath. Everything was spelled out and numbered for her. A bottle with salts and herbs, a vial of oil, and one of the more phallic loofas.
The claw-foot tub filled with steamy water as Winter dropped in the additives and thumbed the sponge. It wasn’t as rough as she’d expected, even though the instructions noted as much, especially after she coated it with the minty-hinted oil. If she hadn’t had the message, the directions were obvious. It was why she didn’t fill the tub as high as she would normally. Plenty of other soaks would offer her the luxury, but too much movement with too much water would mean a mess she didn’t want to clean up after.
Winter squeezed the soft but firm curve of the loofa, trying to remember the last time she’d sought any kind of true release—from a male or herself. It had been a while.
Shedding her jeans and loose t-shirt, Winter’s feet slipped into the heat. It erased the trepidation deep in her bones as she slid her hips down. The hot water shot fervor through her center, cupping her in a way that reminded her of the long-suppressed desires.
Her back met the cold porcelain, and she let the salts soak into her tight and tired muscles.
Dropping down, the herbs floated between her breasts as her knees breached the cold air. The contrast spouted goosebumps along her thighs and hardened her nipples. Winter let her hands glide over her wet skin, smooth under her callused fingers.
The line of water ebbed and dripped along her curves as she moved, grasping the stiff sponge from the tub’s edge. With the sun dipping low on the horizon, shadows creeped into the bathroom without the lights. Next time, she might light some candles, but the darkness amplified the intimacy of this ritual.
A clear handle and tip, it delighted Winter as it curved between the apex of her legs, where her hips bent. A spiral of pleasure arched her back and shoved her hips up so that the shaft slid along her sex. The oil smeared across her folds, promising an easy entrance even as the water soaked the sponge. Heat swelled the tip as it pushed against her entrance; lifting her toes to the edge of the tub, Winter spread her knees and guided the shaft inside herself, gasping at how real it felt.
Water cupped her throat as her hips shifted up to take half of its length. The mint tingled, waking every nerve. A moan gasped through her lips as she pushed the loofa deeper. Herbs reacted with the mint, and each thrust mixed them more fully, saturating the cock and making it weighty. Everything amplified as Winter found a rhythm, slamming it to the hilt and dragging the bulbous handle across her clit.
Her breasts tightened, nipples aching as water caressed and receded across them.
The touch of her own hand brought desires she didn’t typically acknowledge—how much better it would be to have a male’s hands take hold of her, how badly she wanted to dig her nails into a pair of shoulders as she held on, and how she couldn’t replicate the natural thrust of hips.
A spark still shattered through her as she pinched the nub between a finger and thumb. It arched her back, sending another splash of water up her body, soaking the sponge as she drove it into herself.
Winter tried to imagine a male hovering above her, but failed to conjure one with any defining characteristics, not even a copy of one she’d slept with in the past. Her mind twisted to the last one—a dark tome of a man with wide shoulders and a low grumbling voice. A gentle giant, careful and soft with her as he tossed her around. Winter couldn’t remember his name, but the way he’d filled her was easily mimicked by the loofa in her hand.
Toes curling on the tub’s lip, her legs shook and spread, core squeezing water from the spongey cock, still slick from the oil and her juices. The angle sharpened, and her hand slipped up to cup her sex, rubbing it at odds with her other rhythm.
A new moan gargled from her mouth, slipping through the water in bubbles. Trembling tapped her knees against the porcelain, and she held on as long as she could before succumbing to pounding against her cervix. Crashing, she wavered, plunking back into the warm water, leaving the comforting weight inside. Thighs squeezed together, and she came up for breath.
Renewed heat shot through her, grabbing the breath gasping from her lungs.
The mating heat that so many wolves talked about had always lacked for her, even amongst her frustrations that sent her seeking out partners. Her hips shifted, moving the sponge and sending phantoms of her spent orgasm through her. Burning flames ignited low in her guts.
Was this what the need to mate felt like? Something deeper than she’d ever felt before, a need to attach herself to someone, to lose herself, to succumb to pleasure and pain and vulnerability.
Winter shook herself free from the thought, dislodging the loofa and letting it plop and swell in the bottom of the tub.
