Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 135

Lyra

I buried my face in the sheets, panting so hard my chest was heaving. Sweat was sticking to the fur on my stomach, my legs were still shaking, and I could feel his knot still slowly, painfully sliding out of me with a wet, embarrassing pop that made me whimper against the mattress.

There was slick everywhere.

All over my thighs. All over his sheets. Dripping in strings from between my legs like my cunt didn’t get the memo that this was a bad fucking time to be in afterglow mode.

Tasha’s voice was still echoing up the stairs.

She was yelling for her dad to come downstairsAnd me?

I was tied to her dad thirty seconds ago.

And the second that knot came out and the air hit my ruined, swollen cunt, I panicked.

I looked back at Damon, my eyes wide, my heart slamming inside my chest like it was trying to escape through my ribs, and I said the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever said in my life.

"You know what?" I breathed. "Let’s just both go downstairs."

He blinked at me.

"What?"

I was already shifting back. My fur melted back into skin, my hands landed flat on the bed, and the second my human body returned I regretted everything.

I was naked. Still dripping. Still so stretched open I couldn’t feel anything but slick sliding out of me in slow, humiliating pulses. My legs were trembling like I had the flu. My thighs were still twitching from how violently I came.

And my brain?

My brain was holding onto reality with duct tape and prayer.

"We should go," I said again, pulling the sheet under me and trying to wrap it around myself even though I was still panting and shaking like I’d just been fucked into next week. "It’ll look suspicious if you don’t go. Just go first. I’ll come behind you."

Damon looked at me like I was insane. Which, to be fair, I was.

"You can’t walk," he said, and his voice was soft now, still ruined from everything we’d just done. "You’re leaking."

"I’ll figure it out," I whispered. "Just go. Please. I’ll be right behind you."

He sighed.

Ran a hand through his messy, sweaty hair. Walked over and bent down—still naked—and kissed me on the forehead.

And it wrecked me.

Because I was still ruined. Still full. Still his.

And he kissed me like I was something precious.

Then he turned, grabbed a shirt and sweatpants and left.

Just like that.

And I—like the complete, unhinged, freshly-bred disaster of a girl I was—stood up on shaky legs and immediately whimpered.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

That was the first thing I said the second I tried to take a step and realized my legs didn’t work. Like, at all. They were numb, like jelly. Like someone had unplugged all the bones in my body and replaced them with wet noodles and shame. I was still holding the sheet around my body, trying to cover my tits and my thighs even though it didn’t matter—because the real problem wasn’t what I looked like.

It was what I felt like.

My pussy was throbbing.

Not softly. Not sweetly.

It was pulsing like it was still hungry, even after he’d knotted me and filled me with so much cum I was still leaking. I could feel it sliding out of me in slow, sticky drips, slipping down the inside of my thighs with every step I took. It was warm. Wet. Unforgivable.

"Oh fuck," I whispered again, dragging my hand down my face. "I can’t walk properly. I can’t even breathe properly. What the hell did he do to me? Why am I still open? Why is there still cum inside me? Why is my body acting like I didn’t just get turned into a literal Omega fuck toy ten minutes ago?"

My heart was thudding. Not from the orgasm. From the reality. From the danger of what I was about to walk into.

Because downstairs wasn’t empty.

Downstairs was Tasha.

And her voice was still echoing up the stairs, cheerful, fucking oblivious.

"Come on, Dad! You’re taking forever!"

I limped toward the stairs, clutching the banister with one hand, the sheet with the other, and every inch of me was sore. My back ached from the way he bent me over. My hips ached from how wide he stretched me. My inner thighs were raw from how fast I’d run and how hard he’d fucked me. I was still clenching. Still fluttering. Still so goddamn full I felt like I needed to lie down and cry into a pillow for twenty-five hours.

Instead, I took another step.

And another.

Each one slow. Careful. Like if I moved too fast, his cum would actually hit the floor behind me.

I followed him.

Slowly.

Painfully.