FATED TABOOS: A Spicy Werewolf Erotica Collection

MY ALPHA FATHER'S BEST FRIEND 4

DAMON

She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through options, leaning against me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I let her, because I’m weak and she feels too good against my side.

We end up ordering from a local grill that delivers to the estate. While we wait, Maya disappears upstairs, calling back that she’s going to “get comfortable.”

That should probably worry me, but I’m too busy trying to calm my wolf down.

The food arrives forty minutes later. Maya comes back down wearing…

Oh, Moon help me.

She’s changed into sleep shorts that are somehow even tinier than the ones before, and an oversized t-shirt that keeps slipping off one shoulder. Still no bra. Her long hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and she looks soft and warm and absolutely edible.

“I’m starving,” she announces, grabbing plates from the cabinet.

We eat at the kitchen island. Or rather, I eat like a normal person while Maya picks at her food and keeps stealing glances at me.

“Not hungry?” I ask.

“I had a late lunch.” She pushes her plate away and props her chin in her hand, watching me. “So… full moon in three days.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to run with the pack?”

I shake my head. “I’ll stay close to the estate. Keep watch.”

“Because of me.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Your dad asked me to keep you safe. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“I can take care of myself, you know. I’ve been training since I was six.”

“I know you can.” And I mean it. I’ve seen her fight. She’s good—better than good. Fast and strong and vicious when she needs to be. “But unmated males on a full moon aren’t rational. They’re driven by instinct. I’m not taking any chances.”

Something flickers in her eyes. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re an unmated male. Won’t you be driven by instinct too?”

The question hangs in the air between us. She knows exactly what she’s asking.

Yes, I want to tell her. Yes, I’ll be driven half-mad wanting you. Yes, it’ll take everything I have not to kick down your door and claim you.

But I don’t say any of that.

“I’ve got more control than most,” I say instead. “Comes with being an Alpha.”

She studies me for a long moment, like she’s trying to read the truth behind my words. Then she slides off her stool and starts clearing the plates.

“I picked out a movie,” she says over her shoulder. “Hope you like horror.”

Oh, hell.

MAYA

The movie is perfect. Lots of jump scares, creepy music, dark scenes that give me an excuse to press closer to Damon.

We’re on the couch in the den—a room my parents barely use but I love because it’s cozy and private and far from where any guards might patrol past the windows.

Damon’s sitting at one end, looking uncomfortable and way too alert for someone who’s supposed to be relaxing. I’m curled up at the other end, waiting for my moment.

Ten minutes in, something crashes on screen and I squeal, only partially fake and scoot closer to him.

“This is really scary,” I say, pressing against his side.

He goes tense immediately. “You picked it.”

“I know, but I thought you’d protect me.” I look up at him through my lashes, letting my hand rest on his thigh.

His muscle jumps under my palm. I can smell his scent shifting, darkening. Arousal mixing with restraint.

Which is good.

“Maya…” There’s a warning in his voice.

I ignore it and grab the throw blanket from the back of the couch, spreading it over both our laps. Then I shift even closer, tucking myself against his side with my head on his shoulder.

He’s so warm. Wolves run hot anyway, but Alphas are like personal furnaces. His heat seeps into me, making my wolf rumble contentedly.

“This okay?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer for a long moment. Then, very carefully, his arm comes around my shoulders.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re fine.”

I smile against his chest.

We sit like that for a while, and I can feel the tension in his body slowly easing. He’s starting to relax, starting to accept my closeness.

Time to push a little more.

When another scary scene starts building tension on screen, I curl my legs up underneath me and shift my weight more fully against him. My hand slides from his thigh to rest on his stomach, feeling the hard muscles there flex under my touch.

“Maya.” My name comes out almost like a growl.

“Hmm?” I press my face against his neck, breathing in his scent. He smells so good—pine and earth and something uniquely him. My wolf is practically purring.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching the movie.”

“Like hell you are.”

I can’t help but smile. He knows exactly what I’m doing.

I tilt my face up to look at him. His jaw is clenched, his eyes dark, and I can see the war happening behind them.

“I’m just sitting here,” I say innocently. “Is that a problem?”

His eyes drop to my mouth. Stay there for a second too long.

“You’re playing with fire, little wolf.”

The nickname makes my stomach flip. He’s never called me that before.

“Maybe I like fire,” I whisper.

For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. His hand tightens on my shoulder, his eyes darken even more, and he leans in just slightly.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He jerks back like he’s been shocked, pulling away from me and grabbing his phone. I watch his face as he reads the message, watch him force himself back under control.

“It’s Derek,” he says, his voice too even. “Checking in about the perimeter.”

“At nine o’clock at night?”

“Security doesn’t take breaks.” He types out a response, still not looking at me. “I need to go do a patrol check. Make sure everything’s secure.”

He’s running. We both know it.

I sit back and watch him stand up, watch him avoid my eyes.

“You don’t have to…”

“Yes, I do.” He finally looks at me, and there’s something almost desperate in his eyes. “Maya, we can’t… this can’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“Because of my dad?” I stand up too, facing him. “I’m eighteen, Damon. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices.”

“You’re his daughter. My best friend’s daughter.”

“So?”

“So…” He runs his hand through his hair, frustrated. “So it’s wrong. You’re off limits.”

“I don’t feel off limits.” I step closer to him. “And I don’t think you think I am either. I can smell it on you, Damon. You want me.”

His eyes flash gold, his wolf rising to the surface. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No. It doesn’t.” He backs toward the door. “I’m going to do a patrol. Lock the doors behind me. Don’t wait up.”

And then he’s gone, practically running out of the house.

I stand there for a moment, frustrated and aroused and determined.

He wants me. He can barely control himself around me. I just need to push him past his breaking point.

And I know exactly how to do it.

I wait until I hear his truck leave the driveway. Then I head upstairs to his room.

The Alpha suite smells like him already—that dark, woody scent that makes my wolf want to roll around and cover herself in it. His duffel is on the bed, still mostly packed.

I know I shouldn’t. I know I’m crossing about a hundred lines.

I do it anyway.

I grab one of his t-shirts from the bag—black, worn soft from use and bring it to my face. It smells so strongly of him that it makes my head spin.

Perfect.

I take it to my room and close the door. Then I strip off my sleep shorts and panties and climb onto my bed with his shirt.

This is crazy. This is probably the definition of pathetic.

But I don’t care.

I press his shirt to my face, breathing in his scent, and slide my hand between my legs.

I’m already wet. I’ve been wet since I jumped into his arms this afternoon. The ache between my thighs is almost painful now.

I circle my c**t with my fingers, slow at first, imagining it’s his hand. Imagining him touching me, those rough callused fingers on my skin.

“Damon,” I whisper into his shirt.

My fingers move faster. I imagine him here, in my bed, those storm-gray eyes dark with lust. Imagine him spreading my legs and putting his mouth on me. Imagine his tongue…

I slip two fingers inside myself, gasping at the intrusion. It feels good but it’s not enough. I want more. Want him.

I f**k myself with my fingers while I rub my c**t with my other hand, his shirt pressed to my face, his scent filling my lungs.

I imagine him inside me. Imagine how big he’d feel, how he’d stretch me. Imagine him pinning me down and claiming me, making me his.

The orgasm builds fast and hard. My hips are moving, riding my own hand, and I’m moaning into his shirt.

“Please,” I whimper. “Damon, please…”

I come with his name on my lips, my whole body shaking. My p***y clenches around my fingers and I can feel wetness coating my hand, probably soaking the sheets.

When I can breathe again, when the aftershocks finally stop, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.

That should have helped. Should have taken the edge off.

But I still want him. I want him even more now.

I look at his shirt, crumpled in my fist and damp from being pressed against my mouth.

An idea forms.

It’s devious. It’s bold. It’s probably going too far.

I grin and wipe my hand on the shirt, spreading my wetness across the fabric. Then I wipe between my legs, making sure it’s thoroughly coated with my scent.

Tomorrow morning, he’ll find this in his bathroom. And he’ll know exactly what I did.