Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 26.

~~Lyra~

I couldn’t stop staring.

His cock was in his hand. Thick. Pulsing. Leaking like it was already inside me. Like it belonged there. Like my mouth was the only place it was willing to go.

My pussy clenched just looking at it.

God.

The length of it.

The way it hung from his fist, heavy and veined and unforgiving. The head swollen and purple, so wide it looked like it would split my lips in half before it ever made it to my throat. There was no way that would fit. No way it would slide in.

But I wanted it.

I wanted him to force it.

Rip me.

Stretch me.

Crack me open like a virgin sacrifice.

My tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth. My chest heaved. I was soaking the floor. Every inch of me ached like I was in heat and he was the only cure.

He took one step forward.

Held the base.

And slapped it against my cheek.

I moaned.

Fucking moaned.

"Look at you," he said.

His voice was lower than before. Rougher. Like gravel over a flame. It vibrated inside me.

"Drooling for a cock you can’t even take."

My lips parted.

He pushed the head against them.

Not in.

Just there.

Hot. Wet. Massive.

My jaw trembled.

"Open your mouth, little girl," he whispered. "Let me show you what it means to beg."

I opened.

Wide.

Like a good whore.

The head slid in.

Not far. Not deep.

But enough to stretch me.

Enough to make my eyes water.

I whimpered.

And then he pulled back.

Smirked.

"Can’t even get past the tip."

He slapped it on my tongue again. Dragged the head over it. Slow. Filthy. Left a trail of precum across my tastebuds.

"You think this cock’s gonna be gentle just because your little cunt’s untouched?" he growled. "You think I’m gonna kiss your pussy and light candles and ask permission?"

I was panting.

"No," he whispered. "I’m going to make you bleed for it."

Oh God.

"Oh fuck," I breathed.

"You’re going to cry with it inside you. Scream while it rips your virgin hole apart. And still beg me not to stop."

I shook.

"I’m going to split you open so wide you’ll never be tight again."

He dragged it lower.

Across my chin.

My throat.

My heaving tits.

"You’ll leak for days," he said. "You’ll limp. You’ll sob into your pillow and rub your thighs together hoping the pain goes away. But it won’t."

He leaned down.

Put his mouth beside my ear.

"Because you’ll still feel me."

I nearly came.

And then.

BANG. BANG. BANG. Fuck.

My whole body flinched.

I gasped.

He didn’t move.

"Lyra?"

Tasha’s voice.

It was fucking High. Oblivious. Fucking chirpy.

My blood went cold.

"Lyraaaa! Girl, are you in there? It’s time!"

I couldn’t breathe.

Damon didn’t flinch.

Just stared down at me. His cock still hard. Still dripping. Still aimed at the lips I hadn’t even finished licking.

"Get up," he ordered softly.

I tried.

My legs didn’t work.

He bent. Gripped my jaw again.

"You don’t cum tonight."

I whimpered.

"You don’t even touch yourself."

My thighs twitched.

"If I smell slick on your fingers when you get back," he said, mouth at my throat, "I’ll make you regret ever learning how to moan."

Another knock.

Louder.

"Lyra, come on! You’re gonna miss the whole entrance!"

He let go.

His cock was still out.

I scrambled for my shirt. Barely got it on.

My pussy was leaking. My thighs wet. My lips pink and swollen and bruised from not even being kissed.

I opened the door.

Tasha was there, holding glitter heels and a mesh dress.

She blinked at me.

Then smirked. "Did you nap or nut?"

I said nothing.

She held out the clothes. "Come on. Let’s make you look like a whore."

I looked back once.

Damon was still there.

Watching me go.

Still hard.

Still silent.

Still promising hell.

And I knew..tonight wasn’t over.

It hadn’t even fucking started.

Tasha yanked me into her room before I could even catch my breath.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just kicked the door shut with her heel and turned toward the bed like this was just any other party prep.

It wasn’t.

Not for me.

Not after what just happened on the bathroom floor.

My pussy was still throbbing. My throat still wet with the taste of him. My insides were slick and hot and trembling like I’d been dipped in electricity and dragged across tile.

But Tasha had no idea.

She was humming.

Spinning in circles like a little demon fairy, grabbing shoes and gloss and mesh from the chaos of her bed.

And then she turned.

Held the dress up.

It wasn’t a dress.

It was barely a whisper.

Black mesh. Transparent. Stretchy. Sleeveless. Two velvet straps where the cups should be. Slits that cut all the way up to the hip. No lining. No modesty. No mercy.

Her grin was fucking evil.

"This," she said, waving it, "is gonna make the Devil jealous."

My breath hitched.

My thighs squeezed.

I was still dripping.

"You’re wearing this," she continued, "with heels, gloss, no bra, no panties, and zero fucking shame."

I didn’t move.

She raised her brows. "Don’t tell me you’re gonna bitch out now."

I opened my mouth to argue, to say anything, but she didn’t wait.

"Strip."

I blinked.

"What?"

"Strip, baby girl. I’m dressing you up like the forbidden fantasy you are."

My stomach dropped.

I hesitated.

Her eyes narrowed.