Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 113

Lyra

I held the photo tighter.

Tighter than I meant to.

My fingers were actually trembling, and not from the sex. Not from the ache in my thighs or the cum still dripping down my leg or the fucking bruises on my hips. This was different. This was rage. This was realization. This was the sick, stupid silence that came with remembering something you should’ve remembered but were too busy getting ruined to think about.

I let out a laugh.

Dry.

Sharp.

"Wow," I muttered, still staring at the photo. "I actually forgot you had a wife."

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

My head snapped up.

"No, really, Damon. I forgot. That’s how far gone I’ve been. That’s how deep in your cock I’ve been. That’s how dumb you’ve made me. I mean—God—I’m here fucking you like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do, like I don’t have a single brain cell left, and all this time you’ve got her—" I held up the frame like it was evidence in court "—sitting right here in a frame beside the goddamn mail. Not hidden. Not stored away. Here."

I tossed it on the floor.

It landed with a thud.

"I mean, what the fuck, Damon? Are you married? Is she dead? Are you divorced? Is this like some psycho grieving widower thing or am I just your little side fuck while she’s in the other room doing yoga and drinking cucumber water?"

He opened his mouth.

I cut him off.

"No. Don’t talk yet. I’m not done."

I stood there, half-naked in his shirt, trembling with leftover pleasure and now very fresh fury.

"You keep calling me good girl, keep whispering all this possessive Daddy shit in my ear, keep filling me up like you own me—but I’m sorry, was that her job first? Is that why you know how to do all this so well? Did she like being pinned down and choked too, Damon? Did she call you Daddy too? Or am I just the new model with less emotional damage and tighter pussy?"

He looked like he wanted to interrupt again.

I didn’t let him.

"Oh no, you don’t get to play silent right now. You don’t get to dominate and disappear when it’s convenient. You fucked me. On the floor. Against the wall. Folded me in half like a fucking paper doll. You told me to take it. And I did. I gave you everything. And now I’m standing here looking at this woman—this woman in pearls and silk and grace—and I’m asking myself what the fuck I am to you. Because I don’t wear pearls. I wear pigtails and lip gloss and call you Daddy while you fuck the sanity out of me."

My chest was heaving.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tasted salt.

"So tell me, Damon. Where is she? Where the fuck is your wife? Because this photo—this perfectly preserved, perfectly folded little photo—it wasn’t shoved away in a drawer. It was sitting right out in the open. Like a goddamn shrine. Like a reminder. Like she still fucking lives here."

He said nothing.

I laughed again.

Louder this time.

"Holy shit. Is she here? Is she fucking here? Are you fucking her too? Is that what this is? You fuck her in your bed like a husband and then you fuck me on the floor like a whore? Do I get the marble and she gets the mattress? Or do you rotate us depending on your mood?"

I took a step toward him.

Then another.

Until I was right in front of him, right in his space, right where he’d just fucked me senseless and now stood there like I wasn’t tearing apart in front of him.

"Because if that’s what this is," I whispered, "if I’m just the fucktoy to your actual wife...tell me now. Tell me before I sink even deeper. Tell me before I lose my whole fucking mind over a man who was never mine to begin with." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

My throat felt like it was closing.

My knees were shaking.

My heart was pounding so hard I felt it in my ears.

"Say something," I choked. "Say anything. Lie to me. Tell me she’s dead. Tell me you left her. Tell me I’m your only one. Just—just fucking say something before I start screaming."

And then I waited.

Staring at him.

Hating him.

Needing him.

Shaking with the kind of emotional whiplash only an eighteen-year-old girl completely consumed by an older man could ever feel.

The silence stretched.

And I swear to God, I was about to scream.

He was still standing there. Watching me. Breathing like a beast. Eyes burning through me like my words had cut him open — and maybe they had, maybe I wanted them to — but fuck, the way he just stood there made something inside me snap.

"You’re not gonna say anything?" I flung my arms out. "You’re just gonna stare at me like I’m crazy when I’m literally trying to make sense of your entire fucking life? You just fucked me so hard I can’t even walk straight, and now I find out there’s a wife involved and you suddenly turn into Mr. Silent and Mysterious like you didn’t just have your cock so deep in me it knocked every goddamn thought out of my brain—"

I didn’t even get to finish.

Because the second those words left my mouth—he moved.

Fast.

So fast I couldn’t even scream.

His hand wrapped around my throat, not choking me, not yet, but firm enough to make me gasp and stumble backward as his other arm snatched me by the waist and slammed me against the wall. My back hit the concrete. My breath left my lungs. And his body was right there—hard, hot, radiating dominance like it was pouring out of his goddamn skin.