Page 16 of The Alpha Under My Bed (The Chosen #1)

Sixteen

MALCOLM

Ellie was unraveling.

I could see it in the way she sat curled up on my couch, knees drawn to her chest, fingers twitching against the hem of my shirt—my shirt that she hadn’t even realized she was wearing. The weight of exhaustion had settled into her limbs, her body still wrung out from last night. Not that she knew just how much I had wrung her out.

Her phone was still face-down on the table. Powered off.

Good girl.

She hadn’t even noticed me watching her, hadn’t realized that every time her eyes flickered shut, my gaze trailed the soft curve of her throat, lingering on the fresh bite mark she still hadn’t acknowledged. She shifted slightly, and I caught the barest wince, the way her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach for it but stopped herself.

That was new.

I wasn’t supposed to touch her mark yet. Not directly. She still thought she was untethered, still believed she had a choice . But there was a crack in that belief now, and fuck if I wasn’t going to exploit it.

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her fidget.

“You’re going to think yourself into a hole,” I said, keeping my voice light.

Ellie startled, blinking up at me like she had forgotten I was even there. That stung. I didn’t show it.

Her brows pulled together slightly. “I just—” She let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “Everything feels like too much right now.”

I hummed, pushing off the counter and walking toward her, slow and easy. “Then let’s change that.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You need to get out of here. Take a break.” I nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Her lips parted in surprise, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. “Mal, I don’t?—”

“I’m not asking,” I said smoothly, crouching in front of her. My fingers brushed over her ankle, just enough to make her still beneath my touch. “You’ve been locked in your own head since last night. You need something else to focus on. Come with me.”

I could see her hesitation, see the way her mind was already coming up with reasons to say no. I softened my touch, rubbing my thumb along the bone of her ankle in slow, soothing circles. “Just for a little while,” I murmured. “No expectations. No thinking. Just food, fresh air, and me.”

Her lips twitched like she wanted to argue. I waited, patient, watching the conflict play out across her face.

“…Where would we even go?”

My smirk was slow, satisfied.

“Food truck park. You can stuff your face, and I can be a good best friend and look the other way when you add more sugar to your lemonade.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. But the tension in her shoulders had eased, her fingers no longer digging into her own skin.

I had her.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But you’re paying.”

I grinned, standing up and offering my hand. “Always.”

She took it without hesitation.

Ellie stretched, rolling her shoulders as she stood, rubbing the last bits of sleep from her eyes. I watched her carefully, the way she hesitated before heading toward the bathroom to change. She was still on edge, but she wasn’t fighting me. Not yet.

Progress.

I grabbed my jacket from the back of a chair, rolling my shoulders as I listened to her move around in the bathroom. It was funny—she acted like she was sneaky, but I could hear every little shuffle of fabric, every deep breath she took as she debated what to wear.

Like it mattered.

She could walk out in a trash bag, and I’d still think she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.

When she finally emerged, she was wearing a soft sweater tucked into a flowy black skirt, her legs bare except for her usual knee-high socks. It wasn’t a bad choice.

Just not ideal.

I said nothing.

Not yet.

She grabbed her phone off the table—still off like a good girl—and gave me a look. “Alright, let’s go.”

I followed her to the elevator, hands in my pockets as we rode down to the garage. She still hadn’t asked how we were getting there.

Which meant she assumed.

Sure enough, the second we stepped into the underground parking lot, she veered toward my car, her boots clicking against the pavement. I let her get about two steps ahead before grabbing her wrist, pulling her back toward me.

“Uh-uh,” I murmured, shaking my head. “We’re taking the bike.”

Ellie groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “ Mal ! You should have told me before I put on a skirt!”

I grinned, my amusement only growing as she shot me the most betrayed look imaginable.

“You’ll be fine,” I said, plucking the spare helmet from my bike and settling it over her head before she could argue. The way she let me do it so easily, the way she didn’t even hesitate—it made something dark and pleased settle in my chest.

I adjusted the strap under her chin, brushing my thumb against her jaw. “You trust me, don’t you?”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Not the point.”

But she didn’t fight me.

Didn’t push me away.

Didn’t say no.

I smirked, grabbing my own helmet and sliding it on. “Then get on.”

Ellie let out a long-suffering sigh before swinging a leg over the seat, shifting uncomfortably as she adjusted her skirt. “I swear, if someone sees my ass, I’m blaming you.”

I snickered, settling onto the seat in front of her, reaching back to grab her hands and wrap them tight around my waist. “Guess you better hold on, then.”

She grumbled something under her breath, but she clung to me anyway.

I revved the engine, feeling the way she instinctively pressed herself closer against my back as the rumble of the bike echoed through the garage.

“Ready?” I called over my shoulder.

Ellie tightened her grip.

“Just don’t kill me,” she muttered.

I smirked, kicking off.

No promises, sweetheart.

The second I pulled onto the road, Ellie clung to me like she was trying to fuse herself to my back.

The warmth of her body seeped through my jacket, her arms tightening around my waist as the wind rushed past us, cool and crisp with the scent of rain from earlier in the day. The hum of the engine vibrated through both of us—steady, rhythmic—the only sound between us besides the occasional shift of her grip or the tiny, involuntary noises she made when we took a turn a little too fast.

She trusted me to keep her safe.

She had no idea how deep that trust had already sunk its teeth into her.

The roads were mostly empty at this hour, the streetlights casting long, golden beams across the pavement, flickering against the dark leather of my gloves. The city around us blurred into moving shadows—neon signs flickering in shop windows, the distant glow of headlights cutting through the night. It smelled like wet pavement, a lingering trace of ozone, and something sugary in the air, probably from a bakery down the street cooling its last batch of pastries for the night.

Ellie shifted against me, adjusting her hold, and her thighs pressed tighter against my hips.

I gritted my teeth, my grip flexing around the handlebars as I forced my focus back on the road.

Not on her scent. Not on her heat-warmed body flush against mine. Not on the fact that under that skirt, my belt was still locked tight around her waist, keeping her stuffed with me .

The idea hit me in the gut like a fist, a dark, possessive wave of satisfaction curling up inside my chest.

Was she still wet?

Still holding on to the last of my release from her heat?

Fuck .

I wanted to take her home.

Lay her out on my bed, spread her open, see for myself . I wanted to know if she’d shudder when she saw the new mess I’d left inside her, if her thighs would tremble when I traced my fingers through it, pushed it back inside her, told her how good she was for keeping it safe for me.

Would she cry?

Would she whimper, embarrassed, as I kissed away her protests and praised her for doing exactly what she was meant to do?

Would she understand?

Would she finally fucking understand?

My jaw ticked as I forced my thoughts into submission, easing up on the throttle as the food truck park came into view ahead.

A cluster of glowing string lights hung overhead, zigzagging between the trucks, illuminating the area in a warm, golden haze. Music drifted from a small live band playing near the seating area—soft guitar, easygoing, something meant to settle people into comfortable conversation.

The scent of food hit me first.

Grilled meat sizzling over open flames, fried dough drenched in sugar, warm spices mingling with the crisp evening air. It was the kind of place that made your stomach growl even if you weren’t hungry, the mix of flavors and heat clinging to your skin the second you stepped into it.

I pulled into a space near the entrance, cutting the engine.

Ellie practically peeled herself off the back of the bike, muttering under her breath as she tugged at her skirt, trying to smooth it down.

“Survive?” I asked, watching her struggle to regain her dignity.

She shot me a withering glare. “Barely.”

I smirked, unbuckling my own helmet. “You’re dramatic.”

“I had to ride in a skirt .”

“And yet,” I gestured to her, grinning, “your ass is still covered. Impressive.”

Ellie groaned, yanking her helmet off and running a hand through her hair, shaking it out. “I’m getting a funnel cake. And if you try to stop me, I’m slashing your tires.”

I chuckled, tucking my gloves into my pocket as I followed her toward the maze of food trucks.

The crowd wasn’t too thick—mostly couples, a few groups of friends, people settling in at picnic tables beneath the string lights, their faces washed in a soft amber glow. The sound of sizzling grills, the chatter of vendors calling out orders, the occasional burst of laughter from someone in the crowd—it all blurred into something easy, something familiar.

Ellie slowed slightly, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since we’d left the apartment. She scanned the lineup of food trucks, her eyes lighting up when she spotted the funnel cake stand.

“You want one too?” she asked, glancing at me over her shoulder.

I shrugged. “Nah.”

She frowned. “But it’s funnel cake. ”

“I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

She gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “You are so lucky you’re hot. That is a sin .”

I blinked. Then smirked. Oh, sweetheart.

“You find me hot?”

Ellie froze mid-step.

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again like she was trying to find an escape hatch out of her own words. Her face went bright red, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

“I—I mean—” She cleared her throat. “Shut up.”

I grinned. “No, no, please. Continue .”

“Ugh.” She turned on her heel and stormed toward the food truck. “I hate you.”

I followed, barely suppressing my laughter. “You love me.”

“Shut up .”

The guy at the counter watched us with an amused expression as Ellie placed her order, still refusing to look at me.

I leaned against the truck, arms crossed over my chest. “You sure you don’t wanna expand on that last comment?”

Ellie groaned, accepting her paper plate piled high with fried dough and powdered sugar. “If I keep eating, maybe I’ll choke and die and then I won’t have to deal with this conversation.”

I bit back another chuckle. “Dramatic.”

“You make me this way.”

We found a bench near the edge of the seating area, Ellie eagerly tearing into her dessert, a little speck of sugar already clinging to the corner of her lip.

I was staring.

I knew I was staring.

Didn’t fucking care.

She licked a bit of sugar off her thumb, eyes fluttering shut for just a second, and my cock twitched again.

Fucking hell .

“I can feel you judging me,” she said, not even opening her eyes.

I snorted. “I wouldn’t dare.”

She cracked an eye open. “Liar.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Nah. I’m a good best friend. I already promised I’d look the other way when you add more sugar to your lemonade.”

She grinned, kicking my shin lightly under the table. “Damn right you will.”

For a second, it was easy.

For a second, she looked happy.

And I would do anything to keep her that way.

One funnel cake turned into two. Then fries. Then fried Oreos, because Ellie had zero impulse control when it came to sugar, and I wasn’t exactly putting up a fight. Then I made the mistake of letting her talk me into splitting a plate of loaded nachos from a truck that smelled like pure sin.

By the time we were done, we were both wrecked.

Ellie slumped back in her chair, near death, cradling her stomach. “If you make one comment about how much I just ate, I will actually kill you.”

I groaned, shifting in my seat. Fuck, I was full. “Not saying shit.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. “You always have something to say.”

I grabbed another fry, mostly to prove a point. Mistake. My stomach hated me. “Not this time.”

Ellie just stared at me. “Bull. Shit. You probably don’t even feel sick, do you?”

I smirked. “What, you want me to start groaning and clutching my stomach?”

“Yes.” She waved a limp hand at me, suffering. “I want your fake beta ass to suffer.”

I chuckled, stretching my arms over my head. “I feel great.”

Ellie gasped, fully betrayed. “That’s not fair. You should be in just as much pain as me.”

“Maybe you should’ve stopped at one funnel cake.”

Her glare was instant. “First of all, fuck you.”

I grinned, sipping my lemonade. “I mean, I’m just saying.”

“You are the worst influence.”

“Please.” I nudged her knee with mine. “You were gonna get it anyway.”

She didn’t argue. She also didn’t stop me from ordering two large lemonades—one for her, one for me, even though neither of us had any damn business drinking anything at this point.

By the time we made it back to the bike, Ellie swung her leg over, sighing as she adjusted her skirt for what had to be the tenth time since we left.

“Not a single warning,” she grumbled, glaring at me as I handed her the helmet. “You knew I was gonna wear a skirt, and you still pulled this whole let’s-take-the-bike thing.”

I smirked.

Cute .

Like she hadn’t been clutching onto me for dear life an hour ago.

I reached back, grabbed her wrists, and yanked her arms tighter around my waist. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, pressing flush against me.

My grin widened.

Perfect .

I revved the engine, feeling her thighs tense against my hips as I eased us onto the road. The city lights blurred past, the hum of the engine vibrating through us both. The cool night air rushed against my skin, crisp with the scent of pavement, rain, and the distant burn of gasoline.

Ellie was warm behind me.

Soft.

The perfect weight pressing into me.

And she had no idea what was coming.

I waited until we hit a long stretch of road—street mostly empty, the only sound between us the steady purr of the bike and the occasional rush of wind past my ears.

Then, with the press of a button, I turned the vibrator on.

The belt purred to life beneath her, a soft, barely-there hum pressing against her clit.

Ellie jerked .

A strangled sound tore from her throat, barely muffled by the helmet that obscured her face.

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across mine.

She shifted behind me, probably trying to adjust, desperately seeking any way to ease the mounting pressure. It was futile. Not with how I’d designed it.

Her grip on my jacket tightened, nails digging into the fabric.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” I called over my shoulder, my voice sweet, dripping with feigned concern.

Her breath came in ragged pants, impossibly close. “I-it’s—Mal?—”

Another pulse.

Stronger this time.

Her hands slid under my shirt, fingers digging into the taut muscles of my stomach, nails scratching in a way that made my breath catch.

I bit back a groan, the sensation shooting through me.

Fuck, she was already unraveling.

“Ellie?” I said again, pretending I didn’t know exactly what was happening, feigning confusion. “You okay back there?”

Her voice cracked, a shaky exhale falling from her lips. “M-malfunctioning.”

I couldn’t hide the grin that spread across my face. Oh, baby.

Another pulse.

Longer this time.

Her body froze against me, a shudder running through her as her knees clamped tighter around my hips, her breath shallow and frantic.

“Shit,” she whispered, barely audible.

I chuckled low, enjoying the way she was falling apart. “That bad, huh?”

A tremor racked through her, betraying her struggle to maintain control.

She was fighting it. But I could tell… she was losing.

Trying to resist.

Trying so hard t o hold on.

I let the vibrations ease for a second—just enough to give her a flicker of relief.

Her shoulders slumped.

She thought she had a chance.

Then, I turned it up to the highest setting.

“ Fuck !”

Ellie convulsed behind me, her nails digging into my jacket, her forehead pressing into my back as she fought against it.

I nearly groaned at the way her body reacted , how I could feel every tiny movement, every desperate attempt to keep herself together.

She was losing.

Her arms shook.

Her thighs quivered.

I could feel her breath—hot, uneven—against the back of my neck.

And then…

She broke .

Her entire body went taut , a choked-off cry catching in her throat as she clutched onto me, legs trembling, nails raking down my stomach as the orgasm ripped through her.

I groaned softly, gripping the handlebars too tight as I fought against the urge to pull over, spread her open, and see what a ruined, freshly fucked Ellie looked like.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck .

I let the vibrations ease, setting it to the lowest hum just to keep her twitching. Just enough to remind her?—

She still belonged to me.

Ellie slumped forward, her whole body shaking with aftershocks.

I smirked. “You good back there?”

She didn’t answer.

Her breath was ragged, her grip loose, her body wrecked .

I chuckled. “Guess that’s a yes.”

She hit my shoulder weakly.

I grinned.

Perfect.

Fucking perfect .

The moment I cut the engine, Ellie peeled herself off me, legs shaking as she stumbled onto the pavement. She wobbled slightly, gripping the seat for balance, her breathing still uneven.

I barely bit back a smirk.

She was wrecked.

And trying so hard to pretend she wasn’t.

“Y-you…” Her voice wobbled as she unclasped her helmet with unsteady fingers. “I hate you.”

I chuckled, pulling off my own helmet and running a hand through my hair. “That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago.”

Her face burned.

I let my smirk linger just long enough to watch her squirm before swinging my leg off the bike.

Ellie didn’t wait for me.

She stomped—staggered—toward the building, her skirt still riding high, her thighs still trembling. She looked utterly fucked out and hadn’t even been touched.

I caught up easily, falling into step beside her. “You sure you’re okay, sweetheart? You’re walking a little?—”

“Shut. Up.”

I hummed. “Just checking.”

She let out an exasperated noise, quickening her pace, probably trying to escape me. It was adorable.

But she wasn’t escaping this .

Not the belt.

Not me.