He Marked Me.

~Iris

I spent hours staring at the blue lights strung across the ceiling, watching them glow softly in the darkness.

Alice had fallen asleep almost immediately, mumbling something about how exhausting basketball training had been before drifting off.

I tried to sleep too, but discomfort clung to me. When my eyes finally opened again, the room was still wrapped in darkness.

My throat felt dry.

Careful not to wake Alice, I slipped out of bed in the thin tank top and shorts I’d borrowed from Alice and padded quietly toward the kitchen, guided more by memory than sight.

The house was vast and unfamiliar, I reached for the tap, and then I froze.

Someone was humming a song.

Soft. Absentminded. A male voice.

I stayed perfectly still, my heart pounding as I turned slightly.

I could only see his back, illuminated by the faint kitchen light. He was tall, broad shouldered, his frame filling the space effortlessly.

A large tiger tattoo stretched across his back, inked with startling detail. He wore no shirt, only a pair of dark shorts, and he was calmly peeling onions.

Alice’s father.

The Alpha.

Something about the scene felt too intimate, too quiet, like I had walked into a moment I wasn’t meant to witness.

My pulse raced. I took a step back. Then another.

Before he could turn, I retreated fully, slipping into the small storeroom beside the kitchen. I pressed myself against the shelves, holding my breath, my heart thudding so loudly I was sure he would hear it.

I should go back upstairs. I should forget I ever saw him like this.

But I didn’t move.

I stayed there, hidden in the dark, watching the man who’d already started unraveling me without even knowing I existed.

I froze, back pressed against the pantry shelves, heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Then, crash.

My elbow caught a copper pot hanging from the rack. It tumbled, clanging loudly against the tile floor.

I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the scream.

Heavy footsteps approached slowly.

I couldn’t breathe.

He stopped just outside the door. I could see the shadow of his broad frame through the narrow crack.

“Rats,” he growled low, the sound vibrating through the wood.

My shoulders sagged in relief, he hadn’t seen me. He turned, footsteps retreating. I heard him close the pantry door behind him, the latch clicking shut.

I'm trapped.

I should have panicked. Instead, the darkness wrapped around me like a secret. I was alone, hidden, and he was out there, shirtless, humming again, knife moving over onions.

The faint sizzle of oil in the pan drifted under the door, along with the rich scent of garlic and spices.

Nothing had ever felt more forbidden.

My hand moved before I could stop it, sliding down my stomach, past the waistband of the borrowed shorts.

I tugged them aside just enough. My fingers found me wet, swollen, already aching from the sight of him earlier. I bit my lip hard and slipped two fingers inside myself.

I covered my mouth with my other hand, trying to stay silent, but the first thrust drew a soft, involuntary whimper.

I kept going, slow at first, then faster, matching the rhythm of his movements beyond the door.

Every time he shifted, I imagined the flex of those tattooed shoulders, I imagined myself underneath him, pressed down on my neck with his strong hands, getting pounded with his huge cock while I cried for mercy.

I moaned again, louder this time.

The chopping stopped.

Footsteps returned. Closer. Heavier.

I should stop. I should pull my hand away, fix my clothes, and act like a normal guest.

Instead, I thrust harder, eyes fixed on the door, watching the bulge in his shorts grow as he approached. Thick, unmistakable, straining against the short, fighting its way to be freed.

The door flew open and light spilled in.

I stared up at him, wide eyed, fingers still buried inside my pussy, cheeks burning, chest heaving. My thin tank top clung to me, nipples hard and obvious, no bra to hide the shooting nipples.

He looked down, expression unreadable at first. Then his eyes darkened.

“Are you the new maid?” he asked, voice rough, low.

I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare at the corded muscles of his forearms, the sharp cut of his abs, the way his cock twitched visibly in his shorts, thickening as he took in the sight of me.

The realization hit me like fire, I’d done that. I’d made him hard.

And that thought more than anything made me clench around my own fingers, a fresh rush of heat flooding through me.

“Goddamn it,” he growled, voice rough and low. “I told that idiot guard to bring me an old nanny, someone plain, someone who wouldn’t tempt me. Not a young, sexy, full figured little thing like you. It’s like they’re testing my discipline on purpose. And when it comes to sex? I’ve got none left.”

Before I could process the words, his big hand shot out, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me out of the pantry into the light.

He kissed me hard, claiming, no hesitation.

His mouth devoured mine like he’d been starving for it. At the same time, his right hand slid down between my legs, finding my soaked fingers and replacing them with his own.

Two thick fingers plunged deep inside me, stretching me, curling exactly where I needed.

I gasped into his mouth.

He didn’t stop there. With one brutal tug, he ripped my thin tank top in half, the cloth tore like paper, cool air hitting my bare breasts.

The sound alone made me shudder.

“Ouch,” I moaned, the word half pain, half plea, as his fingers pinched my nipple, sharp, possessive then he dragged it into his mouth.

He sucked hard, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, while his other hand circled my clit with slow, relentless pressure.

Pleasure crashed through me so violently I thought it might actually kill me.

My knees buckled, but he held me up with his body, fingers thrusting deeper, mouth working my nipple until I was trembling, whimpering, completely lost.

He was everywhere, his scent, his heat, his taste and I was already ruined.

What the hell was this?

A heat bloomed low in my belly, spreading through my veins like wildfire.

It wasn’t just lust, it was deeper, primal, binding. Like something ancient waking up inside me.

Mate bond?

The word hit me like a slap. No. Impossible. I was an omega, barely twenty one, and he was the Alpha, my best friend’s father. It couldn’t be.

Before I could even form the thought, his teeth sank into the side of my neck.

Pain exploded first as he tore the skin and drew blood. I screamed, the sound muffled against his shoulder.

Then the pain melted into something else, dizzying warmth, a pull so strong it stole my breath. My vision blurred. My legs gave out.

He licked the wound once, slow and deliberate, sealing it with a low growl that vibrated through my bones.

Did he just mark me?

When he pulled back, his eyes were molten gold, pupils blown wide with hunger and fury.

“Who are you?” he demanded, voice rough, almost accusing.

“I’m…” I started, voice faint, eyes fluttering.

He didn’t let me finish.

His hands gripped my shoulders and forced me down. I dropped to my knees without resistance, thighs trembling on the cold tile.

He shoved his shorts down.

I stared.

His cock sprang free, thick, veined, impossibly long. The biggest I’d ever seen. It bobbed heavy in front of my face, already leaking at the tip.

I reached out, fingers wrapping around the base. One slow stroke. Then another. My mouth watered.

I leaned in, lips parting, and tried to take him.

I couldn’t. Not even close.

He didn’t care.

One hand fisted in my hair, the other braced on the counter. He thrust forward, pushing past my lips, filling my mouth until I gagged.

Tears sprang to my eyes instantly. Saliva dripped down my chin as he fucked my throat, slow at first, then harder, relentless.

My nose brushed the coarse hair at his base, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only feel him stretching my jaw, claiming every inch he could reach.

My eyes watered, vision blurring with tears running down my cheeks.

He groaned as he watches me struggle to take him, watching me choke and still try.

“Good girl,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Take it. All of it.”

I couldn’t. But I wanted to.

And that terrified me more than anything.