Claimed By My Best Friend's Alpha Daddy

Oblivious

Myra's POV

His eyes flicked toward me briefly. A small, distracted nod. “Myra. Sophia’s not back yet?” His voice was deep, professional. Polite. He didn’t even pause, moving to the fridge to grab a bottle of water like I was part of the furniture.

“No, she’s still at the meeting,” I managed, voice steadier than I felt. My n*****s tightened painfully against the hoodie fabric. Up close, I could see the way his throat moved as he drank, the flex of his biceps. 'God, I want that throat under my tongue. Want to feel those arms cage me in while he rams that massive c**k so deep I feel it in my womb.'

He set the bottle down, checking something on his phone again. “Tell her I’ll be in the study if she needs me.” Another polite glance. Distant. No lingering. No flare of recognition in his gaze. To him, I was still the quiet girl who’d been tagging along for years. Harmless and Invisible.

As he turned to leave, my eyes dropped traitorously to his ass, the way his pants hugged those powerful thighs. I imagined dropping to all fours right here, presenting my dripping p***y for him. He’d unzip, free that thick Alpha c**k, veined, heavy, with a c**k that would stretch me to my limits and slam home without warning.

“Take Daddy’s c**k, little Myra,” he’d growl.

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood as he disappeared down the hall. My p***y throbbed, empty and aching. Slick had definitely ruined my shorts now. I shifted my weight, pressing my thighs together for any friction, but it only made it worse.

This was torture. Sweet, filthy torture.

I remembered the summer two years ago when Sophia and I had shifted for a run. David had been supervising from the porch, arms crossed, watching protectively. I’d caught his scent on the wind and nearly lost control mid-shift, my wolf whining pathetically for the dominant male. Later that night, alone in bed, I’d humped my pillow imagining him mounting me in wolf form, his bigger body pinning mine, teeth at my scruff, c**k swelling as he flooded me with potent seed. I’d c*m whispering his name like a prayer.

He never noticed. Not once.

Even last month at Sophia’s birthday dinner, when I wore a dress that hugged my curves and showed a hint of cleavage. David had complimented the food, discussed business with guests, and offered me a polite “You look nice, Myra” without a second glance. Meanwhile, I spent the entire evening clenching around nothing, fantasizing about crawling under the table to suck him off while everyone chatted. Swallowing every drop of his thick c*m like the greedy slut I was in my head.

I wandered into the living room now, curling up on the oversized couch with a book I wasn’t really reading. My mind wouldn’t stop. What if tonight he finally saw me?. What if he caught my sweet, needy omega scent and lost control? Pinned me against the wall, shredded my clothes, and claimed me right here where Sophia could walk in any second. The risk made it hotter. Forbidden. Destructive.

My hand drifted between my thighs under the throw blanket, pressing lightly against my aching c**t through the damp fabric. Just enough pressure to tease. I pictured his face between my legs instead, his tongue lapping greedily at my folds, sucking my c**t while those golden eyes locked on mine.

The sound of footsteps made me yank my hand away, heart racing.

David passed through the open archway toward his study, not even looking in my direction this time. Just a tall, powerful silhouette carrying the weight of his empire on those broad shoulders. He closed the study door with a soft click.

I let out a shaky breath, face burning. Part of me was relieved, he hadn’t smelled my arousal, hadn’t seen the way my n*****s poked obscenely against the hoodie. Another, darker part was devastated. I wanted him to notice me want me and tuin me.

This slow torture had gone on for years. Stolen glances, filthy midnight fantasies, silent orgasms in their guest bed with my face buried in a pillow that carried faint traces of his scent from the laundry. I knew it was wrong.

Sophia would be horrified. The pack would whisper. But my body didn’t care, my wolf didn’t care, every fiber of me screamed for David Thorn to claim me and own me completely.

I picked up my phone, pretending to scroll while my mind replayed every imagined scenario. Him bending me over his massive oak desk in the study. Me riding his thigh while he worked late, soaking his expensive pants. Him waking me in the middle of the night, hand over my mouth to keep me quiet as he f****d me raw and filled me again and again.

The front door opened. Sophia was finally home. I forced a bright smile, pushing down the heat still simmering in my veins.

But as laughter filled the house and my best friend hugged me, my eyes drifted toward the closed study door.

David was in there. Close enough to touch.

Completely unaware of the filthy, desperate omega pining for him just a few rooms away.

And somehow, that only made me want him more.