The Alpha and Teresa

“Just put it in”. He didn’t make any attempt to move. “Please..Do it. Do it I beg”. She said almost in a whisper. And with a fast reflex he pinned her leg close to her head. He lowered his head to lick her p**** and then he sucked it repeatedly before he delivered his big c*** into her. He caught her off guard. Her heart was beating mad fast. He went all in. Repeatedly. And every time he went out he came in with extra force. Horsepower. Damn hot. Not that he fancied her or considered her as his spec. Smith was on a quest of looking for his mate. Being the only werewolf without a mate sucks. He sometimes hoped he finds love in a human. “Wa—wait”. She struggled to speak “Shhhhh.. Don’t you know what you asked for. He went harder and harder. Almost blinding her sight. She couldn’t contain it. Smith looked at her and smiled darkly. “Say please”. She smiled back. “No”. *** The rain fell in soft whispers, draping the sleepy town in a misty veil. Teresa stood by the window, arms folded across her chest, watching the water trace delicate paths down the glass. Her reflection stared back at her—haunted eyes, a flicker of strength beneath the calm, and a beauty she had never truly acknowledged. The house was quiet, too quiet. Rosa and Miguel, the elderly couple who had taken her in, were already asleep in their room down the hall. They had been kind to her, offering a place to stay when she had nowhere else to go, asking no questions—though she knew they had many. She never spoke of where she came from or what happened to her mother. And they never pried. A soft creak from the old wooden floor pulled her back into the moment. She turned away from the window, brushing a lock of dark hair from her face as she walked back to her bed. It wasn’t much—a small room with hand-me-down furniture and a few books stacked beside a flickering lamp—but it was hers. For now. As she lay down, the faint hum of thunder rolled in the distance. Her fingers unconsciously grazed the silver crescent moon pendant that hung from her neck. It was all she had left of her mother—a woman whose face had started to blur in her memory, even though her death still echoed loudly in Teresa’s heart. Her mother had been someone important. Teresa wasn’t sure how she knew this—only that the fragments of her past whispered it constantly. She had been powerful, respected… and hunted. That night. The memory came in flashes, as it often did when the rain fell. A forest cloaked in shadows. Her mother standing tall, protective, eyes glowing gold. A sharp whistle—then pain. Screams. Blood. And a tattoo. That tattoo haunted her. She had seen it for only a moment, inked onto the hand of the man who delivered the fatal blow. A claw-shaped mark that curled around the wrist like a serpent. She never saw his face, only his rage—and the unmistakable scent of betrayal. Teresa's breath caught in her throat. She turned on her side, squeezing her eyes shut. She had run that night. Or maybe she had been carried. The memories were slippery, like smoke. When she woke up, she was alone in a town she didn’t know, taken in by Rosa and Miguel who said they found her near the river—bloodied, scared, and barely conscious. That was three years ago. Now, she was just weeks away from graduating high school. Just another girl in a small town, blending in, smiling when necessary, keeping to herself. But she wasn’t like the others. Something stirred inside her. Something wild. Something... ancient. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she felt it. A pull beneath her skin. A tremor in her bones. A presence in her dreams. She never told anyone. Who would believe her? That she sometimes woke up with scratches she didn’t remember getting? Or that she could hear whispers in the wind that no one else seemed to notice? No. It was safer this way. But deep down, she knew it couldn’t stay hidden forever. * A howl split through the silence. Teresa bolted upright, heart pounding. Her eyes darted toward the window again. The rain had stopped. The world outside was still, too still. Then she heard it again. A long, sorrowful howl. Not from a dog. No. This was deeper, primal. It stirred something in her. A memory? A warning? She stood slowly, her bare feet touching the cold floor. Pulling on a sweater, she crept toward the window and peeked out. Dark trees lined the edge of the property. The forest beyond them stretched for miles, dense and untamed. She had always avoided going too deep. Something about it unsettled her. Tonight, though, the trees didn’t just loom—they seemed to watch. Another howl. Closer this time. Then silence. Teresa stepped back, her breath uneven. That feeling—the one she buried so often—was rising again. The feeling that she didn’t belong here. That something was coming for her. She clutched the pendant tightly. “I’m not ready,” she whispered to the shadows. But the shadows didn’t care. Some truths demand to be faced. And the past… the past never stays buried. ---