The Alpha Daddy Between My Thighs

Rebecca’s POV

​I couldn’t remember a time when I wasn’t obsessed with Enzo. He had always been there.

​When I was little, he carried me on his shoulders during pack festivals because my tiny legs would hurt from walking too much. When I had nightmares, I used to sneak into his room and sleep beside him because his scent made me feel safe. When I turned sixteen and realized the butterflies in my stomach weren’t childish admiration anymore, it was already too late.

​I was hopelessly in love with him.

​The worst part? Enzo noticed. And yet, he always treated me like his little sister.

​“You’re too young for me, little wolf.” That was his favorite excuse.

​Ten years. That was the age gap between us. To him, I was still the Alpha’s spoiled daughter who followed him around like an annoying shadow. But I wasn’t a child anymore. I was twenty. And lately… Enzo had started looking at me differently, too. Like he was beginning to realize that.

​The training grounds were empty except for Enzo, who was punching a bag. The sharp sound of his fists hitting the punching bag echoed through the cool evening air, sweat rolling down his muscular arms. His dark shirt clung tightly to his back, outlining every hard line of his body.

​I smiled softly as I watched him. To the entire pack, Enzo was terrifying—the ruthless Beta, my father’s right hand, the man wolves feared. But to me… he was just Enzo.

​“Are you planning to stare at me all evening?” he asked without turning around.

​“Maybe,” I grinned.

​He snorted quietly before landing another brutal punch against the bag. I walked toward him slowly, my hands clasped behind my back. “You ignored me all day.”

​“I was busy.”

​“You’re always busy.”

​“That’s because unlike you, little wolf, I actually work.”

​I rolled my eyes before moving behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist. Enzo instantly froze. I smiled against his back; no matter how much he pretended, his body always reacted to my touch.

​“Becca,” he warned quietly.

​“What?” I asked innocently, hugging him tighter.

​He sighed heavily before grabbing my wrists and gently pulling my arms away. When he finally turned around, his green eyes narrowed down at me, and my stupid heart skipped. Moon Goddess… this man was beautiful. Dark hair damp with sweat, a strong jaw, and a large body towering over mine. Every woman in the pack wanted him, but I had wanted him since I turned sixteen—or perhaps that was the year I realized what I felt for him was actually love.

​“You need to stop doing that,” he muttered.

​“Doing what?”

​“Hugging me like that.”

​I tilted my head. “Like what?”

​His jaw tightened. “Becca.” His voice dropped lower this time. Rougher. “You’re not a child anymore.”

​Heat instantly rushed to my cheeks, my heart pounding wildly. I stepped closer to him slowly. “So… you finally see me as a woman?”

​Enzo stared at me for a long moment before rolling his eyes and stepping around me. “That’s not what I said.”

​A smile spread across my face anyway. It was the first time he had ever admitted it aloud. Woman. Not child. Not little sister. Woman.

​“You totally meant it that way,” I teased, following him happily.

​“I didn’t.”

​“You did. You’re blushing.”

​“I’m sweaty.”

​I laughed softly while he grabbed a towel and wiped his face roughly, clearly annoyed. But I noticed the slight redness near the tips of his ears, and that tiny detail made my chest flutter.

​“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

​“You love me anyway.”

​That made him pause, just for a second, before he exhaled heavily and looked away. “Go bother your sister, Becca. Or your friends. Or your father.”

​“No,” I replied to each one.

​He gave me a flat look. “You’re a headache.”

​“Your headache,” I corrected, smiling brightly.

​Enzo shook his head as if he were exhausted by me, but I caught the tiny smile threatening to pull at the corner of his lips before he hid it.

​“I’m going to rest,” he finally said, tossing the towel aside.

​“Can I come with you?”

​“No.”

​“Why?”

​“Because I want peace.”

​I gasped dramatically. “Wow. You’re so mean to me.”

​“You’ll survive.”

​I watched him walk away toward the back hall of the pack house, my eyes shamelessly following the broad width of his shoulders. God, I was hopeless. Completely hopeless.

​About twenty minutes later, I skipped down the hallway toward Enzo’s room with a folded love letter in my hands. I had spent hours composing it. It was silly, but maybe if he saw how serious I was, he would finally stop treating me like a little girl.

​When I reached his bedroom, the door was slightly open. “Enzo?” I called softly, pushing it wider.

​Then I froze. The paper slipped from my fingers.

​My hands shook so hard I couldn’t even feel my fingers. I should have turned away. I should have run the moment the door creaked open, but my feet were rooted to the floor, my eyes trapped by a sight that was burning itself into my soul.

​Enzo wasn't alone. He was with Sasha, one of the pack’s lead warriors. She was fierce, seasoned, and exactly his age. Unlike me—ten years his junior and still struggling to find my place.

​I watched him fuck her with a primal, brutal pace that made my stomach do a violent somersault. He had her bent over his heavy oak desk, her hands gripping the wood so hard. Her dress was hiked up to her waist, bunched around her back, revealing the pale curve of her hips.

​Enzo stood behind her, his large, sweat-slicked body towering over her small frame. I saw the flash of the condom wrapped around his cock as it vanished back into her.

​Thwack.

​The sound of his hips slamming against hers was loud in the quiet room—a rhythmic, brutal sound. He didn't look like the Enzo who teased me. He looked like a sex god.

​"Enzo... God, Enzo," Sasha moaned, her voice a broken, breathless moan. She arched her back, her chest pressing against the desk, her eyes fluttering shut in a trance of pure pleasure.

​He didn't answer with words. He answered with a low, guttural growl that vibrated in the air between us. He pulled back, almost entirely out, before lunging forward again. I watched, paralyzed, as he slammed into her with a force that made the heavy desk creak. The sight of him—the raw, unbridled power of his body, the way he dominated her, the way he looked so satisfied—made a sickening heat flare deep in my own belly.

​It was wrong. It was devastating. But as I watched him claim her, a part of me—a part I hated—ached with a desperate, terrifying desire to be the one under his hands.

​Then, his head snapped up. Our eyes met.