Chapter 4

The low, heavy rumble of my dad’s pickup truck idling in the driveway shook the glass in my bedroom window, morning light leaked through the thin blinds, casting sharp, pale stripes across the carpet, i had barely slept two hours, every time I closed my eyes, the ghost of Marcus’s rough thumb against my jawline snapped me wide awake, setting my skin on fire all over again.

I threw off my blanket and stood up, my muscles aching with exhaustion, my phone lay on the bedside table where I had left it, i didn't even need to pick it up to know what was on the screen, the notification light kept blinking its slow, steady blue pulse, reminding me that the dynamic had changed forever.

Downstairs, heavy footfalls moved quickly back and forth between the kitchen and the front porch.

"Got the ice chest loaded!" my dad’s loud, booming voice carried straight up the stairwell. "Marcus, you sure you don't want to come out to the lake? Plenty of beer, and the bass are practically jumping into the boat this time of year!"

I crept out onto the landing, keeping my back pressed close to the hallway wall, looking down over the banister.

Marcus stood by the front door, wearing a simple dark blue henley shirt that strained against his massive chest and broad shoulders. His dark hair was slightly damp from the shower, combed back, and his jaw was freshly shaved, making the sharp line of his face look even more intense, he had a mug of black coffee in one hand.

"I'll pass this time, John," Marcus replied smoothly, his low voice echoing easily in the open foyer. "Got a mountain of paperwork to review for the security firm, and I told you I'd keep an eye on the property for you."

"Appreciate it, brother," my dad said, slapping Marcus hard on the shoulder, he grabbed his tackle box from the floor and swung open the front door, letting the cool morning air rush into the house, he looked up toward the top of the stairs and spotted me standing near the shadow of the hallway. "Hey! Look who finally decided to join the living! I'm out for the next five days, kid, do what Marcus tells you, don't break anything, and for God's sake, keep the kitchen clean."

My throat felt bone-dry. "Yeah. Have a good trip, Dad."

"See you Tuesday night," my dad called out, taking two steps out onto the porch, he looked back at Marcus and gave him a short nod. "Take care of him, he still thinks he's a grown man until something actually goes wrong."

"I'll make sure he stays in line," Marcus said softly.

He didn't raise his voice, but the words carried a strange, and weird feeling that made my stomach drop into a free fall.

My dad gave a quick wave, pulled the heavy oak door shut, and walked down to his truck, a second later, the engine revved high, the tires crunched over the loose gravel, and the sound of his vehicle faded down the long country road until total silence claimed the house.

Down in the foyer, Marcus didn't move immediately he took a slow sip from his mug, his broad back turned to the stairs, then, deliberately, he turned on his heel, he looked up through the wooden posts of the banister, his dark, sharp eyes locking straight onto mine.

"Come down here," Marcus commanded softly.

My legs felt like lead, but my body moved before my brain could process a refusal. I walked down the stairs step by step, my bare feet making no sound against the carpeted runners, with every step downward, Marcus seemed to grow taller, broader, his physical presence expanding until he completely dominated the entire room.

I stopped on the bottom step, keeping three feet of space between us, i forced myself to meet his eyes, trying to summon whatever pride or defiance I had left.

"My dad's gone," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound composed. "You don't need to play the family friend routine anymore."

Marcus set his coffee mug down on the small side table next to the coat rack, he took one slow step forward, closing the distance between us until the heat of his body radiated straight through my shirt.

"I'm not playing a routine," Marcus said, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that made my heart race wildly. "I promised your father I'd take care of you while he was away and taking care of someone means making sure they know their place."

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him that I was nineteen, that I didn't belong to him, that I was straight and this whole app thing was just a mistake but before a single word could escape, Marcus reached out, his large, calloused hand clamped firmly around the back of my neck.

I gasped as his thick fingers flexed against my skin, gripping me with absolute control, he didn't hurt me, but the pressure was firm, immovable, and instantly overwhelming. He pulled me forward half an inch, forcing my head up so I had no choice but to look directly into his dark, commanding eyes.

"Look at me," Marcus ordered softly.

My breath hitched in my chest, i couldn't look away if I wanted to, the sheer power of his grip sent a hot, liquid heat rushing straight down to my stomach, short-circuiting every instinct I had to fight back.

"You spent three weeks sending me messages, telling me how much you wanted a real man to take control," Marcus murmured, his thumb resting right over the pulsing artery on the side of my neck, he could feel my heart beating like crazy under his skin. "You showed me your body, you asked me what I would do to you if I ever got my hands on you."

"I... I didn't know it was you," I choked out, my hands instinctively rising to lightly grasp his wrist, but I didn't have the strength to push him away, i didn't want to push him away.

"It doesn't matter who I was on that phone," Marcus countered smoothly, his grip tightening just a fraction, asserting his total dominance. "What matters is who I am right now. I'm the man standing in your hallway. I'm the man holding you by the neck and for the next five days, you do not make a single decision without my permission."

My pulse skyrocketed, my whole body felt flushed, a strange mix of deep, agonizing shame and unbearable, thrilling excitement warring inside me.

"Do you understand me?" Marcus asked, his voice low, firm, and dangerous.

I swallowed hard, my knees shaking slightly under my own weight. "Yes," I whispered.

"Yes, what?" Marcus demanded quietly, his dark eyes narrowing as he leaned closer, his chest brushing against mine.

"Yes... DomDaddy," the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, raw and completely exposed.

A dark, satisfied look crossed Marcus's face, he released my neck slowly, his rough fingers sliding down my collarbone before dropping his hand to his side. The sudden absence of his touch left my skin feeling cold and desperate for contact.

"Good boy," Marcus said smoothly, stepping back and picking up his coffee mug once more. "Now go to the kitchen, you're going to make us breakfast, and then we're going to talk about the rules of this house."

I stood there for a second, catching my breath, trying to process the absolute shift in reality. I turned toward the kitchen, my mind reeling.

As I reached the doorway to the kitchen, the phone in my back pocket vibrated with a sharp, heavy buzzing against my hip.

I pulled it out with trembling fingers and looked down at the screen.

Even though he was standing less than ten feet behind me in the hallway, a new notification sat on the display from the app.

Rule Number One: Whenever we are alone in this house, you will not wear a shirt.