Heathens Read Online Alta Hensley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Forbidden Tags Authors: Alta Hensley Advertisement

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Since we all adored the snow, we’d taken a trip in the middle of the winter one year. We spent our time racing each other on snowmobiles, skiing down the mountain through inches of fresh powder, and traversing the slopes on snowboards. But we’d also taken a couple of days and gone down to the cape, thoroughly enjoying the fact that we practically had the place to ourselves. I had taken my thirty-five millimeter on our walks and had gotten some great shots of the sea, and even better candid photos of Storee as she stared off into what she called heaven.

Next to the picture, I also had a picture of Storee with the ocean highlighting every delicate and beautiful feature she had.

I had been teasing her unmercifully about how bundled up she was, so she’d knocked down the hood of her jacket, and I had caught her at a moment I always thought of as most herself—turned back toward me, away from the sea, her hair streaming out behind her, a big as life grin on her face that made me ache to smile back at her—even years later.

I was sick of feeling the way I had since Gabriel’s death—cold and empty and lonely. I missed his friendship, but I also missed the sense of family I’d had with him and his daughter. It was even getting to the point where I was sick of work, which was absolutely unheard of for me. Rising in power was everything I strived toward. Or at least it had been.

I was also sick of the guilt.

I should have saved Gabriel.

I shouldn’t have let him die.

And I sure as hell shouldn’t let his murderer go unpunished.

But I was a flawed man in so many fucking ways.

Where did I even begin to redeem myself?

I’d always been a loner. Like Storee, I’d also lost my father to murder. I’d grown up with my mom as a single parent. I had ended up having to spend an inordinate amount of time with the wrong kind of people trying to prove myself in the underbelly of the world for the sake of my father’s memory. I knew I was quiet and serious even from childhood, and it wasn’t until I grew up and filled out that I began to get much in the way of attention from anyone else. Once my shoulders began to broaden and my voice dropped sexily, nearly every girl in school ran after me.

But I had none of it.

I’d seen my mother’s battle, working herself to the bone to run a struggling household with only the help of her young son, trying to make a decent life for him and get the things he wanted. I had made up my mind early on that I was going to make enough money that my mother wasn’t going to have to work anymore, and I’d run and grow an empire to its full potential no matter how dirty my hands had to get to get there.

And my hands didn’t just get dirty—they got filthy.

But I was determined to be the man that my father and his father’s father would be proud of.

The Hartwell name would not be lost, and I would keep their memory alive. The name would be synonymous with power.

My dreams had been realized to an incredible extent, due to some smart business moves and connecting with the right people. I had been able to keep my mother comfortable until the day she peacefully passed. I had made her proud regardless if it was crime money that paid the bills. It’s all she ever knew, and she never once judged me for it.

The only thing that had been missing in my life was a special woman. I wanted an equal partner.

I wanted a strong woman—strong enough to submit and allow me to protect her at all costs. To fully trust that her man would do what was right and always have his woman’s best interest at heart.

I would also dominate the woman I loved and then fuck her brains out after—although this wasn’t something that I revealed to every woman I dated, and there were definitely some who could have used a good session with my belt. I had let those ladies go with absolutely no regrets. I didn’t want a bratty woman. I didn’t want a woman to act submissive.

No. I wanted a woman who craved it.

I was into some kinky shit when it came to sex, and the right woman had yet to come along to feed my desires.

I was an alpha asshole and had no shame in admitting it.

That wasn’t to say that I hadn’t had a lot of women in my life. I had. Ever since I’d gotten smacked upside the head with the load of testosterone that was puberty, I’d had almost more women hanging around me than I could deal with. In high school, the girls would practically stalk me. And the older they got, the subtler they became, but there were no fewer of them. And when they knew I was connected to the mafia, assassins, thieves, and just overall bad guys, they should have been smart and run away.

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