The grill smoke stings my nose, but I can't look away from Marcus.
He stands by the patio pillar, a cold beer in hand. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes are anything but. Dark. Hungry. Like a wolf circling a lamb.
He's watching me.
Again.
My dad's best friend. The man everyone calls "Daddy" because he's been around since I took my first wobbly steps. But the way he's looking at me now? It's not familial. It's pure, unadulterated lust.
I shift my weight. My dress is thin silk. Clings to every curve. Shows everything.
He notices. Of course he notices.
A low grunt vibrates in his chest. He takes a sip of his beer. Doesn't break eye contact.
My nipples harden against the fabric. He sees. His jaw tightens.
I've wanted him for years. Stalking him? No. Dreaming of him. Every night. The big, strong man who taught me to throw a football. Now he wants to break me.
Instalove isn't a feeling for me. It's a fact. He's my Daddy. Not in blood. In blood and bone and soul. And today is the day.
"Looks like Marcus finally found something to stare at," my dad booms, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
Marcus turns his head. Just for a second. His gaze flicks to my dad, then back to me. The darkness in his eyes deepens. A promise.
"Marcus knows what he likes," my dad laughs. "Right, buddy?"
"Damn right," Marcus rumbles. His voice is gravel and honey. It goes straight to my pussy.
I flush. Heat crawls up my neck. My cousins giggle. I hate them. I want to hide. But Marcus steps forward.
He moves through the crowd like a shark through water. The guests part for him. Respect. Fear.
He stops right in front of me. Close enough that I can smell him. Sandalwood. Musk. Expensive cologne and pure male.
"You're blushing, sweetheart," he murmurs.
His hand lands on my lower back. Pressing me forward. Into his chest.
Solid. Hard.
I can feel his heart hammering. It matches my own.
"Is it hot?" he asks. His lips brush my ear.
"No," I whisper. My voice betrays me. Shaky. Wet with need.
"Liar."
He pulls back. Just enough to look at my face. His eyes drop to my mouth. Then back to my eyes.
"Tell me you want this," he commands. Not a question. A demand.
My heart stops. The words are there. Screaming to get out.
But my fingers slip.
I turn to grab a platter of burgers from the side table. My hand is slick with sweat. The ceramic clatters to the concrete.
Shards explode outward. Burgers scatter.
"Fuck!" I hiss.
I drop to my knees. Shame burns my cheeks.
"Don't move."
Marcus is there instantly. He drops to his knees beside me.
His thigh presses against mine. Hard. Muscular. The contact sends sparks through my veins.
He reaches for a shard. His hand covers mine.
I freeze.
His skin is rough. Calloused. Warm. He doesn't pull away. He holds my hand. His thumb strokes my knuckles. Slow. Sensual.
"Careful," he murmurs. His gaze locks on mine. "You're so clumsy."
"Sorry," I breathe.
"No." His voice drops an octave. "You're perfect."
He turns my hand over. Presses a kiss to my palm. A claim. A promise.
My pussy clenches. Wetness floods my panties. He feels it. He always feels it.
"You're soaked," he whispers.
"Can't help it," I whimper.
"Good girl."
He stands and pulls me up. His body presses flush against mine. I can feel the hard ridge of his cock straining against his jeans. It presses against my stomach.
I gasp.
He groans. "Fuck. You feel that? You drive me crazy."
"I've wanted you," I confess. The words spill out. Raw. Honest. "Since I was eighteen."
Marcus's eyes flare. A beast is released.
"Good. Because I'm done waiting. You're mine now. Say it."
"I'm yours," I gasp. "All yours."
"Damn right."
He grips my waist. Lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively. He carries me. Striding toward the backyard.
My father's garden shed. The lock is rusted. Marcus kicks the door. It gives way.
He throws me onto a pile of old tarps. He follows. Covering me.
"Mine," he growls.
He tears my dress. Ripping the silk. Exposing my breasts. He groans. "Goddamn. You're beautiful."
He bucks his hips. His cock snaps against my belly. Pre-cum leaks from the tip.
"I need to fuck you," he demands. "Now."
"Yes. Daddy."
I arch into him. He unbuckles his belt. The sound is sharp. He pushes down his jeans. His cock springs free.
Thick. Veiny. Dark head. Aching.
I reach for it. He catches my wrist. "Wait. You take what I give you."
He lines up. His tip presses against my entrance. I'm already dripping. My pussy is a mess of need.
He pushes in. One hard thrust. He breaches me.
"Ah!" I scream.
"Fuck!" He buries himself to the hilt. My walls stretch. He fills me completely.
"You take it so well," he grunts. His hands grip my hips. Fingers digging in. "So tight. So wet."
He starts moving. Hard. Fast. Slapping sounds echo in the shed.
"Slap. Slap. Slap."
He's pounding into me. Deep. Relentless. Hitting my cervix. Making me see stars.
"You like that?" he roars.
"Yes! Marcus! Daddy!"
"Who owns this pussy?" he demands.
"You do! I'm yours!"
"Good girl. Taking my cock like a good breeder."
The word hits me like a drug. Breeder. He wants my babies.
"I want your babies," I sob.
"Cum for me. Now."
His thrusts become erratic. He's close. "Cum for Daddy!"
I shatter. My body convulses. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I scream his name.
He roars. "Fuck! Yes!"
He bottoms out. Groaning. His body shudders. He empties himself inside me. Hot jets of cum. Pumping into my womb.
"Take it all," he growls. "Every drop. I'm breeding you."
I feel it. Warmth flooding me. Claiming me. He stays deep. Rubbing my stomach.
"There. You're pregnant."
"Already?" I whisper.
"Yeah." He kisses me. Hard. Possessive. "You're made for it. You're made for me."
He pulls out. My pussy drips with his cum. He looks at the mess. Smiles. A dark, satisfied smile.
"We're keeping it. You're staying with me. No more hiding."
"I love you," I whisper. The truth.
"I know." He pulls me up. Cradling me in his arms. "I love you too, baby. Forever."
He carries me out of the shed. Into the light. My Daddy. My alpha. My forever.
And my belly is already changing. Just a little. A secret growing.
He claims me. And I am his.