Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 118

Damon

Because it’s not just her body I want. It’s not just the way her pussy clenches around me like she was built to trap me inside. It’s not just the way she looks when she comes—mouth open, eyes wild, hands gripping me like I’m the only solid thing she’s ever had to hold on to.

It’s her entirely.

I ran both hands through my hair, dragging my fingers down my face with a growl that got stuck somewhere in my throat.

Fuck.

Am I getting obsessed with her?

Is that what this is?

Because I feel it. That pull. That need. That sick, addictive spiral that’s dragging me deeper every time I hear her say Daddy in that desperate, fucked-out voice.

God, what is she doing to me?

I’ve been with women. Dozens. Maybe more. I’ve fucked harder. I’ve fucked longer. But no one has ever gotten inside my head the way she has. No one’s ever made me feel like this. Like I’d tear down the world just to have five more minutes with her legs wrapped around my waist.

I should be in control.

I’m older. Wiser. I’ve buried men, built empires, destroyed entire lives with a single decision. I’ve tasted blood and power and silence. I’ve been called ruthless. Dangerous. Unforgiving.

But here I am, losing my breath over an eighteen-year-old girl who won’t stop talking, who won’t stop smiling, who won’t stop letting me fuck the softness out of her until she forgets her own name.

What the hell am I becoming?

Am I falling for her?

God, no. That can’t be it.

I’m too smart for that. Too fucking old. I know better. I’ve already done the love thing before.

But this isn’t love.

This is something else.

It’s worse.

And maybe I’ll break her.

Maybe I’m the villain in her story.

But I don’t care.

Because I can’t stop.

I don’t want to stop.

I want her again. Right now. I want to walk out of this bathroom, grab her by the throat, slam her against the wall, and fuck her hard.

I want to keep lying. Just to hold on to this a little longer.

I want to keep pretending she doesn’t deserve better.

I want to keep pretending I can let her go.

But deep down, I know I can’t.

Because I’m not just obsessed with her.

I’m fucking drowning in her.

And as that realization settled into my chest like poison, my phone vibrated.

"Hello?" I said, already knowing. Already dreading. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

And then I heard her voice.

"Hey there, my dear husband. You heard the news—I’m out of the rehab you sent me to."

My entire body went still.

It was like someone had poured ice water into my spine and twisted the world sideways.

Camilla.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

My lips parted, but no words came out. I could feel my heart pounding behind my ribs like it was trying to break out. My skin went hot. My fists clenched around the phone as I forced air into my lungs.

I stepped slowly away from the sink, lowering my voice, dragging the door closed with the toe of my shoe so Lyra wouldn’t hear.

"Camilla," I said, voice taut, barely above a whisper. "Where are you?"

"I’m currently in a hotel," she said softly. "But I’ll book a flight down there tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you, Damon. I’ve missed you. So much."

Fucking lunatic.

I ran a hand over my face, dragging it hard, letting the burn of my own skin remind me to stay grounded, to stay calm, to stay sane. But nothing felt sane anymore. Not this call. Not this day. Not what I just did to Lyra’s body over that fucking chair like she was my last salvation.

"No, Camilla," I snapped, voice hardening as I stepped away from the mirror and paced across the tiled floor. "We are divorced. Remember? Because of your addiction. Because of your lies. Because I couldn’t keep saving a woman who didn’t want to be saved."

Silence again.

Then her voice cracked. Soft. Slippery. Too calm to trust.

"But... I’m clean now, Damon," she whispered. "I promise. I swear it. No pills. No outbursts. The doctors said I made progress. You should’ve seen me at group—"

"I’m not a fucking fool, Camilla."

My voice cut clean through hers.

"I don’t care if you’re clean or not. I don’t care what the doctors said. I honestly don’t want you near me. I don’t want your voice in my house. I don’t want your things here. I don’t want your memories creeping down my hallways again like ghosts. You don’t belong here anymore."

There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the line. The kind that sounded like someone getting ready to scream—or sob. I braced myself, but it wasn’t tears that came next.

It was venom.

"Why are you talking like this?" she spat. "What happened to you, Damon? You were never cruel. You used to love me. You used to fight for me."

"That was before I had to carry your overdose-ridden body into an ER three fucking times," I growled. "Before I had to lock my pills in a safe because you couldn’t be trusted around anything stronger than ibuprofen. Before I watched you sit in your own filth for days because you were too high to stand. That was the woman I married. And I buried her years ago."

She didn’t reply.

And then her voice dropped—low, trembling with rage and desperation.

"You’re fucking someone, aren’t you?" she hissed. "That’s what this is about. You’ve got some young little slut warming your bed while I rot in rehab. Is that it, Damon? Is that why your voice is shaking like you’ve still got someone’s pussy on your cock?"

Fuck.

My stomach twisted.