Page 7 of Alpha’s Conquest

Casey

Casey

This was Marshall’s dad??

This red-headed brick house of a man was a full head taller than his son, forcing me to crane my head just to meet his eyes. His pants were unzipped and falling open, revealing a thick patch of red hair, the same hair that covered his arms and chest. Staring into his eyes made me feel… dizzy.

If I didn’t know he was Marshall’s father, I would’ve thought he was closer to my age. Only a small amount of wrinkles around his bright green eyes betrayed his age. Every strand of red hair on his body was as bright as his son’s. Dark brown freckles dotted his skin, mixing in with the thick red hairs on his chest and the rough planes of his cheeks.

I took a deep breath, trying to offset the shock, and his scent surged through my nostrils. His Alpha pheromones overpowered me with one inhale. Fuck. I knew some Alphas had more potent scents than most, but his were the strongest I’d ever smelled. They were earthy and alive, as if I were sniffing a potted plant. A second whiff of his scent went straight to my cock, making it throb to life, straining against my pants. Slick pooled in my ass, the intensity of my arousal growing with every second. My knees wobbled, and my pheromones strained against their containment, begging, pleading, needing to be set free.

If Marshall wasn’t in the house…

What was I thinking? Calm down, Casey. You can’t jump your boyfriend’s dad??

But his scent… his thick, muscled chest… those deep green eyes… they called to me, singing a song of desire only I could hear. I’d never been so drawn to an Alpha before, not even with Marshall.

“Dad, this is Casey,” Marshall said, his voice floating somewhere over my head. “He’s my boyfriend.”

A flurry of emotions raced across the older Alpha’s face. Anger. Shock. Desire. Until his expression relaxed and went blank. Erased. As if he felt nothing at all.

“Casey, this is my dad, Adam Wilson.”

Adam. The name seemed to reverberate throughout my body, and I gulped at the thought of speaking it aloud.

“I…” I what? I can’t think because my cock is so hard? I want you to fuck me? No, no. Stop it. This was a fluke. A primal reaction to his scent. I could ignore it. I had to ignore it. “N-nice to ‌meet you, Mr. Wilson.” There. That felt formal enough.

His eyes stared right into mine, the intensity of those green globes making me hot all over. Did he feel the same as me? Was I the only one about to burst with desire? I hoped not. But at the same time, I knew this wasn’t right. I shouldn’t want him like this.

He said nothing else, no social platitudes or niceties. He just watched at me, his eyes pouring right into my soul and leaving me panting for more. That glint in his eye… I knew that look well. He did want me. He wanted to rip my pants off and fuck me against the wall. His eyes gave it all away.

Resist. I had to resist. If he stayed away, I could too.

“Let me help you finish dinner, Marshall,” he finally said with a slight tremor in his deep voice. Mr. Wilson grabbed his shirt from the bed and left with Marshall right behind him.

With them gone, my knees buckled beneath me, leaving me in a breathless puddle on the floor.

What the fuck just happened?

This was insane. I couldn’t be attracted to Marshall’s dad. It was my hormones acting up. Some remnant of my heat. A side effect of my meds. It had to be. It had to be.

I took a few minutes to compose myself, hoping my dick would calm down in the process, but no. I still had a raging boner no matter how long I waited. Great. Standing, I tugged my shirt to hide the bulge in my pants and hoped no one would notice.

The kitchen was oddly quiet when I went down the stairs and peeked my head around the corner. Marshall was opening the oven door, and the warmth spread throughout the room as he checked on our dinner. It smelled delicious. He had always been an excellent chef.

A surge of heat rushed over me when I saw his father again. He was calmly standing at the other end of the counter, as if nothing had happened. I gulped to keep my focus, but not even that was enough to stop myself from staring at him. He poured himself a glass of the wine I spilled on myself. Dirt flecks were visible beneath his fingernails. He had a vine tattoo on the side of his neck and an array of piercings on his right ear. There was a hoop in the middle of the lobe with a chain that connected to an earring, and a metal bar across the top of his ear. I knew I was gaping at him, but it was impossible to look away.

“Almost done. Five more minutes.” Marshall's voice startled me, and I gladly focused on the food that was cooking. Closing the oven door, my boyfriend busied himself with a pan of potatoes on the stove. “If David takes forever to get here, like always, it should be ready by then.”

As if on cue, the front door opened, and another tall, Alpha redhead came inside. He took off his jacket and hung it on a coat rack by the door, toeing his shoes off as he did. David, I was guessing. His jacket had a sheriff badge on the front, and his clothes looked like a uniform. His pheromones joined the scents in the room, a subtle smell of leather and oil. He removed his belt and hung it beside his jacket. It had a pistol, handcuffs, and a radio strapped to it. David was a cop. Great.

“Smells good, Pops,” he said as he walked over to the kitchen.

Mr. Wilson swiped the wine bottle, as if he had already expected David to go straight for it. “Marshall made dinner.”

Marshall left the hot pan of food long enough to give his brother a hug.

“Good to see you, little bro,” David said. “Been too long. Still fixing people at the hospital?”